Summary:\u00a0“WHI” for “Vengeance”. What if Adam did not stop Joe from killing Red Twilight? Joe’s quest for vengeance has devastating consequences for his family.<\/p>\n
Rated:\u00a0K+ \u00a0WC 21,000<\/p>\n
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\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Transgressions<\/strong><\/p>\n When he woke up, there was pain and a lot of it. He could feel every bone. He swallowed, and there was blood in his mouth; he had bitten his tongue when he\u2019d fallen. When his eyes finally opened, there was sunlight threaded through the trunks of the pines, and it was rising. The woods were bathed in the golden glow of morning that lit up the world, almost like he had fallen into some kind of dream.<\/p>\n He felt twigs and pine needles etching patterns onto the side of his face, but there was more than that. Something he didn\u2019t understand until he smelled the metallic tang of it and felt it tacky against his skin. He started to push himself up, but his arm wouldn\u2019t work right, and it collapsed in a bloom of pain that was astonishing, and he fell back to the ground. He had forgotten how to breathe. With effort, he forced air into his lungs and let it out again. Struggling to sit up again, this time he tried to avoid putting pressure on the damaged arm. His vision darkened and narrowed, before the world came back into focus.<\/p>\n He was sitting in a clearing in the woods. Ground squirrels chittered past him, as if he was not there, and chickadees fluttered and squabbled in the branches overhead. A light breeze ruffled through the pine needles, and a cone fell from a branch and tumbled to rest near his knee. He looked over his shoulder and saw his horse a distance away, carelessly tethered to a low branch. Familiarity was settling in, and he realized he was still on the Ponderosa and not far off the main road.<\/p>\n What had happened to him? How had he gotten there? He shook his head as if to set his thinking in place. His thoughts were whirling in his head, and he couldn\u2019t make sense of them through the pain he\u2019d woken up to. Bracing himself with his good arm, he looked at the ground around him. What he saw there made him gasp, and it wasn\u2019t from pain this time.<\/p>\n Blood pooled on the ground before him and all across the clearing, seeping through the needles and the duff. It was red against the brown fecundity of the earth. Around the edges, it was already drying. This time he recognized the smell. It was the scent that lingered in the air in the aftermath of a deadly stampede, after brutal Indian raids on family homesteads. It was the smell that settled in a bedroom after a long, bitter battle with disease. It was the smell of death, and it had not come into the woods naturally.<\/p>\n He began to panic. The world began spinning in his panic, until he caught hold of his own emotions and held them steady. He tried to focus on the scene before him, but his thoughts and his breathing were all tangled together. The rise and fall of his chest was ragged and uneven, and his mind cast wildly about for answers but didn\u2019t come up with any.<\/p>\n All that blood could not be coming from his body. Frantically, he took a good look at his right arm. His own clothes were sticky with blood. The sleeve of his jacket and shirt were torn. Blood still drizzled out of a wound under the ripped cloth, but that didn\u2019t explain the amount of it that had soaked across the clearing<\/p>\n He began shivering, and it was not just from the chill of the morning. Trying hard to remember what he had done, he shook his head and the pain of it made him think that something else was wrong. He reached back carefully and touched the side of his head. His hand came away with a smearing of blood across his fingers. There was a sharp outcrop of a rock, close to where his head had been resting. It was webbed with blood. He must have hit his head when he had fallen. With a detachment that he did not understand, he noted the interesting pattern on the rock. A round splatter of red in the center where his head hit hard and then spidery tendrils snaking down.<\/p>\n No memory of what had happened to him came to mind, so he cast his memory back further. It skidded about randomly until it settled on a memory that could not be refused. So vividly, he saw his brother, lying backshot and unconscious on his own bed. This was something he would never forget. He remembered the last time he had seen his brother. He remembered the gray pallor of his skin, the rattle in the giant man\u2019s chest, and the raggedness of his breathing, each breath taken less willingly than the one before it. He remembered, and the memory hurt worse than any pain his body could cause him. Hoss was dying. He was probably already dead.<\/p>\n And Joe Cartwright remembered his promise. He remembered crouching next to Hoss\u2019 bed in the flickering half-light cast by his oil lamp, remembered the fever burning through the damp cloth he pressed against his forehead. It was probably the last time he would see Hoss alive. He knew it then, and he knew it now. He had gazed fervently at the features of his gentle brother\u2019s face and tried to commit them to memory. The image of that face would have to last a lifetime, however short that life might end up being. His promise echoed in his mind.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss I promise you,\u201d he had whispered to his sleeping brother. \u201cI\u2019m going to find the man who did this to you. I\u2019m going to find him, and I\u2019m going to kill him. Before I kill him, I\u2019m going to make him know why. I promise I\u2019m going to make him know why.\u201d<\/p>\n He left Hoss\u2019 bedroom, carrying the lamp with him. He would need its grainy light while packing his belongings. There was so much he needed to get ready to be out of the house before morning. When Joe turned back to look at his brother, the room was already shrouded in shadow.<\/p>\n Now in the clearing, fear began to well up inside his chest, until he didn\u2019t think he could stand it. He had to find out what happened. In his mind, his father\u2019s face came before him, lined with worry and grief. Joe pushed it aside. There was no time for that now. There would be plenty of opportunity to think about it later. He had to get up and start looking for what he had done. He had made his own choice, even though he didn\u2019t remember it. He couldn\u2019t bear the idea of his father bearing the cost of his own transgressions.<\/p>\n Joe pushed himself to stand, and the earth trembled under his feet, but then it held steady. Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to start walking. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, following the blood that blotched across the clearing. There was so much of it. The sight repulsed him, and he fought the sickness that stirred inside.<\/p>\n \u201cKeep walking,\u201d he told himself and was surprised to hear his thoughts spoken out loud. \u201cStop thinking.\u201d<\/p>\n He obeyed his own order and continued walking. He followed a bend in the woods, taking him up almost to the main road. The road to Virginia City. Is that where he\u2019d been heading? Then, just before he climbed the bank to the road, Joe saw him. Propped against the trunk of a tree, as if the man refused to take his demise lying down. Joe\u2019s disordered memory had no problem attaching a name to the man he saw in front of him, although he didn\u2019t remember ever seeing his face before.<\/p>\n Red Twilight, the man whose brother Hoss had accidentally killed, sat gutshot and dead in front of him.<\/p>\n Joe didn\u2019t need to check Red\u2019s pulse to know that he was dead, had probably been dead for some time already. The man was already stiff from the violence of his death, and overhead the scavengers had begun circling.<\/p>\n Red Twilight almost seemed to be smiling, as if his bloodlust had finally been satisfied. His eyes were open, and they appeared to stare at Joe, like he was looking right into his soul. After all, they had so much in common. Both were men who sought and found vengeance. The smile on the dead man\u2019s face seemed to say they were brothers in deed, if not in blood.<\/p>\n Joe recoiled at the sight, his heart and mind revolting. His stomach rebelled as well, and he doubled over, retching with dry heaves until he thought he might do himself some damage. The memory of his own longing for revenge now appalled him. It tasted like gall in the back of his throat. It tasted a lot like sin. For the first time in his life, Joe wished he\u2019d never been born. He had crossed a line his father had drawn for him, since he was a child. He could never be sorry enough to make things right again.<\/p>\n Without fully understanding what he was doing, he turned away from the body and ran. The trees slashed across his path, as if they were determined to slow him down. He found his way back to Cochise, who was grazing nonchalantly, as if the world had not come tumbling down. With his good arm, he pulled himself onto his saddle. Suddenly in panic, he remembered his gun and sighed in relief when his fingers fumbled over it in its holster. He must have put it back without thinking about it. It was one of many things he didn\u2019t remember doing.<\/p>\n Joe didn\u2019t know where he was heading until he got there. Through the blur of the trees, he could begin to make out the familiar slant of the roof. He had ridden back to the house after all, but he was not sure what he had come for. Cochise had taken him around the back way, as if the horse knew they couldn\u2019t really go home again. He dismounted and tethered the pinto to a tree, a short distance away from the main house. He crept along the creek that trailed the back of the house. When he reached the back corner, he heard voices and froze for only a moment. He had used this route to sneak into the house more times than he could remember, after coming home from a late night in Virginia City.<\/p>\n Joe sidled around the corner, until he was close to the front porch. Abruptly, voices broke into his concentration. He realized that Pa and Adam were talking. They were still inside the entryway, but he could hear them clearly with the front door open. The early morning breeze had died out, and the air outside had grown so still and quiet, he could hear every word they said.<\/p>\n \u201cOne boy in trouble is enough,\u201d his father was saying. \u201cFind him. Bring him back here, before he does something he\u2019ll regret for the rest of his life.\u201d<\/p>\n The grief and the pain in his father\u2019s voice were palpable. How could Joe tell him it was already too late? It was too late to be thinking about the rest of his life. He had intended to go home to say goodbye, before turning himself in to the sheriff. But he couldn\u2019t do it. He couldn\u2019t bear the devastation he knew he would find on his pa\u2019s face, when he told him what he had done. He couldn\u2019t subject him to the sight of his youngest son, the baby of the family, swinging from a noose, after a trial that would surely be open and shut.<\/p>\n Suddenly, Joe realized that if he went and told his father he\u2019d taken his revenge on Red Twilight, it might near kill him. Two sons as good as dead and buried in the span of a single week was something he would never get over. Whether it gave out now or in years to come, Ben\u2019s heart would never contain the sorrow that Joe had brought to his family.<\/p>\n Joe Cartwright could never face his father again.<\/p>\n Joe crouched in the shadows of the house, until he was certain Adam was gone. He knew his older brother would first head to Virginia City to look for him. Joe waited until the front door closed, and he skulked along the backside of the house, pausing only when he stood under Hoss\u2019 bedroom window. How tempted he was to climb the roof to that window and say goodbye to the brother who had protected him throughout his life. But he couldn\u2019t risk it. He had brought all this upon himself, and he had to bear it alone. He wasn\u2019t about to bring his guilt to Hoss\u2019 deathbed.<\/p>\n \u201cGoodbye,\u201d he whispered to the house he had been born in.<\/p>\n Steeling himself, Joe made his way back to his horse. His saddlebags and bedroll were already secured from the night before. Late night games of poker had been good to him lately, and he had multiplied his wages over the last couple months. He had squirreled away every cent of his winnings. Only Hoss knew about his gambling and had teased him about it. Asked what he was saving for with all that money, Joe hadn\u2019t known how to answer at the time. There were times in his life he could hardly think a week ahead, let alone plan how to account for his future. He was eighteen, for heaven\u2019s sake! He wasn\u2019t married and already saddled with responsibilities, like some of his boyhood friends. He had all the time in the world to consider where his life might lead him. So when he packed his bags, he had plenty of money stashed away to help him get by. He had packed all of it. When heading out to find Red Twilight, he had thought of everything, it seemed.<\/p>\n He had thought of everything, except what vengeance would cost him. What it would cost his family.<\/p>\n Before mounting, he pulled off his blue jacket and appraised it. Clearly, it was beyond repair. Besides, anyone searching for him would know him by his standard attire. He knew that once Adam found Red Twilight\u2019s body, there\u2019d be a posse searching for him before dusk. Joe didn\u2019t begrudge Adam his moral principles. After all, it was what they\u2019d been taught all of their lives. Right was right, and wrong was wrong. There was a line, and you just didn\u2019t cross it. For the life of him, Joe couldn\u2019t understand what had possessed him to cross that line and forget everything that his father had taught him.<\/p>\n Using his teeth and his good arm, he tore off a strip of the cleanest section of the jacket he could find. In the same way, he struggled to tie it around his arm. Although he had more on his mind than his own wounds, the injury on his arm had not stopped bleeding. He had taken enough of a look at it to know it was caused by a bullet and there were two holes. The bullet had passed clean through. At some point, he would show it to a doctor, if he could find one on the path he was taking. As long as he cleaned it out, any infection it caused was unlikely to kill him. Even if it did, Joe reckoned, he\u2019d be far enough away that it wouldn\u2019t bring more grief to his family.<\/p>\n Joe took the long way around the lake, riding away from Virginia City. At the furthest edge of the Ponderosa, he took one last look back. He looked at the miles of forests that climbed upwards towards the peaks, still glazed with the last winter\u2019s snow. He had known that sight all his life, and it never failed to stir him. Then he turned away and looked towards the mountain pass ahead of him. He had given up the right to his name and its birthright, and the loneliness to come was only what he deserved.<\/p>\n The West had always offered a haven for desperate folks on the run from every kind of sin. There was still plenty of room for a man to lose himself in. They said in the open spaces of the wild, a man could turn into himself and disappear.<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n Adam could not remember riding any faster. The road to Virginia City had certainly never seemed any longer. It was a bitter ride he was facing, and his own words flew back at him, along with the dust kicked up by his horse.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019ll get over it,\u201d he remembered saying the night before, tapping his father on the stomach with his folded newspaper. \u201cYou know how he is.\u201d<\/p>\n They all knew how Joe was, but Adam had hardly believed his own words, and he didn\u2019t think he convinced his father one bit. Everyone knew how the boy felt about Hoss. Seeing Hoss lying face down in the dirt with a bullet hole in his back had awakened a rage in Joe that Adam hadn\u2019t seen in his kid brother before. He honestly didn\u2019t know what Joe would do with all that anger.<\/p>\n Earlier that morning, his stomach had lurched when he looked into Joe\u2019s empty bedroom, after his father asked him to wake the boy up for breakfast. The room looked like it had been stripped, the bed obviously not slept in, his nightshirt unworn and hung over the back of the chair. Adam steeled himself against his sense of foreboding, chiding himself that Joe was simply up early to get a start on the day.<\/p>\n When Adam strode out to the barn and swung open the door, his unease quickly turned to panic. The morning was just dawning, but already the light fell brittle across the empty stall and cast the barn into shadows. He and his father could tell each other stories all day long, but they\u2019d be kidding themselves. Joe and his horse were long gone, and there was no doubt where the boy was heading. Joe had gone to hunt down and kill Red Twilight. He had gone off looking for vengeance for his brother. And Adam clamped down on his fear. He had to go back into the house, and he owed it to his father to at least sound calm when he told him that Little Joe was gone. But this time he did not take his time making his way back inside. He ran.<\/p>\n It was this same fear that pushed Adam into riding much harder than his common sense would normally allow. But his horse was already getting tired. He sighed and pulled back on the reins. There was no point in getting the animal winded at such a distance from Virginia City. He wouldn\u2019t be helping his brother by causing a good horse to founder. Adam reminded himself to think clearly and to slow things down.<\/p>\n At a steadier pace, he could afford to take a look around at the woods that lined the road. It was a perfect fall morning, bracing and cool, with a soft breeze that hummed through the pine needles. He allowed himself to take a look around, at the ripples of trees leaning aslant in the breeze.<\/p>\n In a windstorm, he had seen those same pines bow dramatically, sometimes all the way to the ground. You could stand in a windstorm and be astonished at the currents of light and shadow and sound that would transform the forest, the wind speeding through the bending pines from hill to hill. Adam had never seen a tree snap in such a storm, but occasionally it happened. Sometimes, a tree was diseased at the core, the evidence of it insidious and undetectable in its outward appearance. Such a tree would always snap under tremendous pressure. There was no way to save it. Nature seemed to know this as well, and used its storms to ensure that only healthy specimens would survive, only those trees that could endure their trial without breaking.<\/p>\n For now, the wind was light and gentle, and it stirred up the scent of cedar and pine. Adam looked across the woods, at the light glancing off the tips of the trees and rippling aslant between their branches. Then from the road, he saw something move, and he wasn\u2019t sure what it was.<\/p>\n Adam reined his horse to a stop at the side of the road and looked more intently between the trees. He knew he had seen something. He waited a moment, willed his horse to stay still, before he saw it again. He saw a saddled bay, weaving in and out of the pines, looking a patch of grass for better grazing. Adam swung down and approached the animal cautiously, but the horse seemed nonplussed by his presence. With saddlebags and a bedroll still tied to the saddle, the horse looked like he had been geared up for a full day\u2019s ride. Adam had to ask himself the question. Where was the rider?<\/p>\n The bay allowed him to come along side and he ran his hand along the animal\u2019s withers. It had been some time since he had been ridden. Adam tied the gelding\u2019s reins to a tree near a patch of grass and turned to consider the forest. With the horse meandering so close to the side of the road, it was most likely that the rider was nearby as well. His gaze rested on the saddlebags, securely tied and fastened, and he wondered if he should take a look through them. He had no right to look through another man\u2019s belongings, but Adam rationalized to himself that someone out there might need help. He ruffled through the first saddlebag, careful not to disturb its contents. He fingered past a tan shirt, some tobacco, and a folded bundle of jerky. Then his hands brushed a piece of paper, and he pulled it out and unfolded it.<\/p>\n When Adam considered the piece of paper he was holding, he knew right away what it was. Knew the disaster it had brought upon his family, and his hands began shaking. A standard missive from any telegraph office, this one was from Virginia City, and it was addressed to Red Twilight. Adam didn\u2019t need to read it to know what it said. He knew that he was holding the telegram from Roy Coffee written to Red Twilight, informing the man of his brother\u2019s death. It was the piece of paper that sent the man on a quest to avenge his brother\u2019s death.<\/p>\n Willie Twilight\u2019s funeral came back to him in every grim detail. He would never forget the melancholy service, Willie\u2019s girl Mary sobbing into her handkerchief, the Reverend\u2019s attempt to instill meaning into a life over too soon. More than anything, Adam would remember his brother Hoss, standing over the coffin, his massive shoulders bent with grief and guilt that none of them had found a way to assuage.<\/p>\n Hoss was a good man, the best man that Adam had been privileged to know. Adam was proud to call that good man his brother. Yet it was his very goodness that proved his undoing, left his heart open to self-loathing and condemnation. How quick he was to blame himself for Willie\u2019s death! Once convinced, it was impossible to dissuade him. Hoss\u2019 guilt ate away at him, drove him further and further away from his family, until it culminated in that one long night when he didn\u2019t come home at all.<\/p>\n Adam spent a sleepless night in his room, lying on his bed and listening for the steady gait of Hoss\u2019 giant horse loping into the barn. But Hoss never came home, and Adam rose early, determined to go find his brother. His father had ordered that they leave Hoss be, give him time to get over his own guilt, in his own way. Adam had no problem ignoring that order. At this stage in his life, he only deferred to his father\u2019s authority when it suited him to do so. He let his father believe otherwise, but it had been many, many years since he had felt any guilt over defying his father. After all, they were both grown men. Even Ben Cartwright was only human and made his share of mistakes. Adam was sure that he was doing the right thing. Hoss needed someone to knock some sense in him, to pull him out from underneath the burden of guilt he had laid on his own shoulders.<\/p>\n So he did not try to be all that quiet as he saddled his horse, in the earliest hours of the morning. He was ready to ride when Joe crept into the barn, nervously glancing over his shoulder to ensure he had not been followed. Adam smiled, despite himself. Joe was still so young, still subject to his father\u2019s authority. Even at eighteen, he still felt compelled to sneak off when disobeying his father. When Adam came up behind him, the hostility rolled off the boy in waves. He fully expected Adam to tell their father what he was heading off to do.<\/p>\n Then Adam stepped forward with his saddled horse and told him, \u201cHe\u2019s my brother too. Come on.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s expression immediately shifted from hostility to pleasure, his grin lighting up his face. Adam found his brother\u2019s reaction unexpectedly gratifying. It was Joe at his best, enthusiastic and full of passion. It was impossible not to smile back at him. Joe had lived a charmed life, that was for certain. It was no wonder that the pretty girls in town became so distracted when his little brother passed by. The kid lived his life in a way that was hard to ignore.<\/p>\n Adam could have easily grown up resenting his youngest brother. Joe\u2019s boyhood had been so different from his own difficult childhood, as he made his way out west with his father. Joe had never known hunger, had never faced the uncertainty of going without his basic needs being met. Life and all its joys had come easily to the boy, and Joe had thrown himself at it with unbridled passion. It was hard to hold it against him, however; it was just the way he was. His moods in a single day could span every range of emotion. His loves were fierce and his rages even fiercer. Adam tried to moderate Joe\u2019s wild moods and often failed miserably. His father took a sterner approach, coming alongside of his youngest and most volatile son to try and rein him in. Often, he was successful. However, there was only so much a father could do. There came a time when even the most dutiful son had to make up his own mind about the path he was going to follow.<\/p>\n Adam clenched his teeth and told himself again to stop thinking about what was already done. He couldn\u2019t do anything about the past; he needed to find Joe, before he got himself into something that his family couldn\u2019t get him out of.<\/p>\n Adam walked further into the woods. He didn\u2019t know what he was looking for, just that he had to keep looking. Everything was as it always was. The Ponderosa was so beautiful in the cusp of autumn. A man could breathe in its loveliness like it was air. It was almost enough to live on.<\/p>\n He pushed through a bramble of manzanita and almost stumbled into a clearing. Immediately, the loveliness of the forest was completely forgotten.<\/p>\n For a long moment that felt more like an eternity, Adam Cartwright forgot how to breathe. The air seemed to pool in his lungs, as if it were trapped there. Vertigo passed over him in a dizzying wave, and he held onto a branch just to remain standing. He didn\u2019t know if he could speak and when he tried, the word that emerged was only a whisper.<\/p>\n \u201cJoe,\u201d he said so quietly, he wasn\u2019t sure a living soul could hear it. Yet just looking at the ground let him know that any souls around were not likely among the living. Adam found his voice and with it, he began running.<\/p>\n \u201cJoe,\u201d he shouted as loudly as his wheezing lungs would allow. \u201cLittle Joe! Joe! Can you hear me?\u201d<\/p>\n He ran awkwardly, off kilter, like a man who had been in the saddle for weeks, instead of hours. The forest no longer seemed lovely. It was malevolent, even in the morning, lurking with shadows and omens. And there was blood. Blood everywhere. Adam continued running, not knowing where the blood might take him.<\/p>\n The blood led him toward a grouping of trees near the main road, just a short distance away from where he had tethered his horse. He had been so close by but could easily have ridden by without seeing it. The body. A man, shot in the stomach, so close to Willie Twilight in appearance that Adam didn\u2019t need any identification to tell him that the man was Willie\u2019s brother.<\/p>\n Adam took off his hat, not out of respect for the dead, but out of deference for the desperate turn their lives had taken. He looked at the dead man only a moment. He\u2019d seen fatal gunshots before. He knew the bullet had been lethal and the man\u2019s life had run out quickly. When he looked at the dead man\u2019s body, he knew it for sure. That bullet had ruined more than one life.<\/p>\n Adam turned around and started running back to his horse. He didn\u2019t stop to decide where he was heading. Later, he would realize that he should have gone to the sheriff to file a report. But he just couldn\u2019t do it. His brother\u2019s smiling face kept coming before him, and Adam didn\u2019t have the heart to push the image aside.<\/p>\n For just a moment, when Adam first looked at the body, the thought came to mind to just get rid of it. He could drag it deep into the forest and bury it there. He could put an end to the bitter legacy of the Twilight family once and for all. But he just couldn\u2019t do it. Not even for Little Joe. Not even for his father, whose reaction to all this, Adam could hardly bear to think about. He tried to think of what his father would do, what his father would have him do. Adam was Ben Cartwright\u2019s son, a man after his father\u2019s heart. He needed to tell his father what he saw. Couldn\u2019t let him hear it from anyone else. So he returned to the ranch.<\/p>\n He rode back at a fast gallop. This time, his horse was hardly winded by the pace he had set. Making good time, he reached the clearing outside the ranch house, and it did not surprise him that his father was waiting on the front porch for his return. Adam dismounted and approached, gingerly, reluctantly. He would have asked how Hoss was doing, but he couldn\u2019t get the words out. There was only so much bad news a man could handle. He could hardly look into his father\u2019s face.<\/p>\n \u201cSon,\u201d Ben said and grasped Adam\u2019s shoulders. There was a question in the word, and he didn\u2019t know how to begin to answer. Right then, Adam didn\u2019t feel much like a man at all. He felt like a boy and wanted to collapse into his father\u2019s arms and disappear. Forget about what he had seen and what needed to be done.<\/p>\n \u201cOh Pa,\u201d Adam managed and cursed at the catch in his voice. It told more than he had intended to give away.<\/p>\n \u201cTell me,\u201d Ben commanded, his own voice holding steady. \u201cLittle Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n So Adam told him. Told him everything he saw, even though he knew what the words cost both of them. When he was done, Adam watched helplessly as his father seemed to age before him, his shoulders collapsing inward. Then, Ben took a deep breath and seemed to settle on some sort of resolution. Watching his father, Adam had no idea where he found his strength. As for himself, he felt adrift in the world, adrift in that terrible morning.<\/p>\n After bowing his head for just a moment, Ben looked up and stared directly into Adam\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cTake me,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cPa, let me handle it,\u201d Adam protested. \u201cI can go to the sheriff.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTake me now, Adam,\u201d his father said.<\/p>\n \u201cLook Pa, someone needs to stay with Hoss.\u201d<\/p>\n But Ben Cartwright had made up his mind. \u201cHop Sing can stay with Hoss. He\u2019s doing much better this morning. He\u2019ll be all right until we return. Adam, I need to go see\u2026 I need to see for myself what my boy has done\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n There was nothing left to say. Ben saddled his horse, with the stoicism of a man facing his imminent execution. Adam fed and watered his own horse, preparing the animal for another grim sojourn. They rode away from the ranch house together in silence.<\/p>\n When they arrived at the spot where Adam found the body, he was astounded to see two horses and a wagon, tied by the side of the road. Immediately he recognized the sheriff\u2019s horse along with a couple other horses that weren\u2019t familiar. He traded an alarmed look with his father and dismounted, only to be met by Roy Coffee who had just climbed up the embankment. He was followed by his deputy and by a woman that Adam recognized immediately as Willie Twilight\u2019s girl.<\/p>\n \u201cBen!\u201d the lawman exclaimed, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for them to be greeting each other this early in the morning, on the side of the road, next to a scene of carnage. \u201cI was just coming to see you. Little Joe all right? Are you sending for a doctor?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben and Adam were speechless for a moment.<\/p>\n Then Ben managed, \u201cRoy, I don\u2019t know what you\u2019re talking about. We were coming to see\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot much to see here,\u201d Roy gestured casually into the woods. \u201cRed Twilight\u2019s dead. From the looks of things, he\u2019s been dead for a while. And from what Mary tells me, it was pretty much cut and dried. A clear case of self-defense. With an eyewitness, I don\u2019t imagine Little Joe will have much trouble clearing his name. He did what anyone would have done. Having an eyewitness saves us the trouble of a trial, anyhow. But how\u2019s the boy\u2019s arm, Ben? Mary here tells me that Little Joe was unconscious, when she left him. She rode all the way to Virginia City to get help.\u201d<\/p>\n His father stared at his old friend in utter confusion, so Adam spoke up instead.<\/p>\n \u201cRoy,\u201d he said. \u201cWe haven\u2019t seen Little Joe since last night. Perhaps, you better fill us in on what you\u2019re talking about.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d the sheriff drawled. \u201cI imagine Mary here would do a better job at that than I would. After all, she saw the whole thing. Mary, you know the Cartwrights\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n And Mary began her story. She had been up before sunrise, on her way to see Hoss and to tell him the truth about Willie. About the fact that Willie had a ruined heart and that he couldn\u2019t see his own death come too quickly. She wanted to tell Hoss that he was not guilty in Willie\u2019s death. It had taken her some time, but he had wanted to let Hoss know the truth. And to warn him about Red\u2026<\/p>\n By the side of the road, Red was waiting. Mary did not know if he was waiting for her or someone else. He forced his horse in front of her wagon, sending it almost off the road. Pulling her off the seat of her rig, he dragged her into the woods. She screamed and did what she could to fight him off, but alone in the woods, her struggle did little to stop him. He seemed to know where she was heading, and he intended to stop her from talking. As his hand tightened its grasp around her throat, she felt her life slipping away and prepared to die. Neither she nor Red heard the footsteps walking through the forest.<\/p>\n \u201cLet go of her.\u201d The voice was soft but full of venom.<\/p>\n Red let go of Mary, and she collapsed to the ground. Lying on the duff of fallen needles and bark, Mary lifted her head to see Joe Cartwright, standing at the edge of the clearing, his gun drawn.<\/p>\n \u201cNow lay down your gun,\u201d Joe said.<\/p>\n It occurred to Mary then that she had never thought of the youngest Cartwright boy as being particularly dangerous. He always seemed to be walking down the streets of Virginia City with an easy smile and a pretty girl on his arm. Even though she was desperately relieved to see him, something in his eyes scared her. Red Twilight must have sensed the same thing. With alacrity that made her scream, Red reached for his gun and aimed it at the boy. But Joe was faster, had always been fast, ever since he learned how to use a gun. And his gun was already drawn.<\/p>\n His bullet hit Red right in the center of the man\u2019s gut. Although Mary had been in the line of fire, she knew she was in no danger. Joe was a remarkably good shot. But as he slowly dropped to the ground, Red\u2019s finger found the trigger of his own gun. Mary screamed and buried her face, as the gun recoiled and the smell of gunpowder wafted through the air. When she dared to lift her head, Red Twilight was crawling across the clearing toward the main road. There was blood everywhere. It was streaming out of the man\u2019s wound, soaking into the ground. She watched Red disappear into the trees. And then she saw him.<\/p>\n Joe Cartwright lay in front of her, his gun in his hand, blood flowing freely from his head and his arm.<\/p>\n Mary tried to wake him. Nothing seemed to do any good. She needed to bring back help. On her way to the road, she passed Red Twilight, already dead. She tried not to look into his death-stare. There was something in his open eyes that shook her deeply. It would revisit her in nightmares, for many years to come. In death, the little man looked satisfied, as if he had gotten all the revenge anyone could want in one lifetime.<\/p>\n When she finished her story, she looked up into the faces of two very quiet men. Adam could barely make sense of her story. It was as if the entire world had fallen apart and been put back together, in the span of a single morning. He just couldn\u2019t shake the feeling it had been put back together wrong.<\/p>\n He tried to rouse himself out of his stupor, and he looked at his father. Ben also seemed lost in the woman\u2019s revelation.<\/p>\n Adam rested his hand on his father\u2019s shoulder. \u201cPa, there was no sign of Little Joe or his horse. He had to have left, on his own. If he\u2019s hurt, we\u2019ve got to find him.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben seemed to come back to himself, and he stared at his oldest son with dawning understanding. Relief and dread warred in his eyes and neither seemed to achieve dominance. There was hope after all, but it was still so confusing. He shook off Adam\u2019s hand and slid and staggered down the bank, into the forest. Adam followed. Neither spared a glance for Red Twilight\u2019s stiffening body. The man had brought more than enough grief to their family.<\/p>\n Adam came alongside and gestured towards the clearing. They fought their way into it, through the tangled mass of undergrowth. The dirt of the clearing was still desecrated with blood, which was quickly darkening. Ben looked at the ground; some of that blood belonged to his son. He cupped his hands around his mouth. Adam resisted the temptation to put his hands over his ears. He wanted to escape the pain in his father\u2019s voice, yet there was no escaping from it.<\/p>\n \u201cJoseph,\u201d Ben shouted, and his voice echoed in the forest. \u201cLittle Joe! Where are you? You can come out! We\u2019re here!\u201d<\/p>\n Overhead, a squirrel sputtered and leapt to a higher branch. His flash of motion was inconsequential to the two men below and their worries, yet they could not help glancing up, all the same. The tiny animal perched above them, crouched over his plunder of nuts and seeds. He peered down at the father and son on the ground, seemingly with pity, before chattering away to branches above to secure his bounty for the winter that was surely coming.<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n The horse threw him before he could brace for it. He fell hard onto the churned up mud of the corral. Off to the side, he could see a couple of ranch hands hooting and hollering and waving their hats in the air.<\/p>\n Joe managed a rueful smile and reached for his own hat, which had flown off in the fall. He should have known better than to have taken on that last horse. He had already broken many horses since the start of the morning, and his body had taken about as much punishment as it would put up with. He was aching in places he\u2019d never thought of. Not that it mattered much. He wanted to wear his body out past exhaustion. A tired body meant he could sink into a dreamless sleep that kept all his demons at a safe distance.<\/p>\n When he dreamed, he was running through the woods and the ground was bleeding and Red Twilight\u2019s face stared at him until it was laughing. The face would fade away and be replaced by the face of his middle brother. On Hoss\u2019 face, he could make out disappointment so profound, Joe would wake up gasping. So it was that an exhausted body was a blessing. These days, all he asked out of life was that it let him sleep through until morning.<\/p>\n A ranch hand reached out to help him over the fence, but he didn\u2019t need any assistance. The other men meant well, called him \u201ckid\u201d in the friendliest way, and continued to invite him to the consolation of cards and whiskey in the bunkhouse after supper. But Joe wasn\u2019t interested in making friends. Even after almost three months of working at the ranch, he could have passed them by in town, without recognizing their faces.<\/p>\n The past month had brought nothing but rain falling without abatement. The winter had turned into an overcast and grey series of storms that turned the brown hills green and the ground below into a warm sludge of mud. He knew snow would be falling over the mountain passes in the Sierras. The newest string of horses still needed to be broken, a job made more hazardous by the rain. But Joe didn\u2019t mind the additional risk. What did he have to lose anyways? Everything he could possibly lose was lost to him already.<\/p>\n When Joe rode away from the Ponderosa over three months earlier, he planned to make his way to San Francisco, to board a ship when he arrived, and to set sail from there to anywhere else. It was the least he could do for his family, he told himself. His pa and Adam would have a lifetime of grief as it was, and he was lost to them anyway. Joe figured he was just sparing them the agony of a trial. His arm had healed nicely without the help of a doctor, just as he suspected it would. In his eighteen years of life, he had seen enough gunshot wounds to know that this injury would not prove much of a problem to him. He had always healed quickly.<\/p>\n He had ridden over the miles of mountains and foothills, taking the familiar route through Sacramento, and ferrying across the delta. As he passed the familiar terrain, the memories of past trips haunted him. It brought an ache to the back of his eyes that was almost unendurable. He had ridden the ferry with his family many times on route to San Francisco. The memories assailed him. With every bend the steamboat followed through the winding paths of the delta, a new memory came to take a hold of his mind.<\/p>\n It seemed like just yesterday, when Hoss had leaned over the railing and pointed out a particularly attractive patch of shoreline in between the rippling reeds and grasses.<\/p>\n \u201cOne of these days Little Joe,\u201d Hoss had told him. \u201cYou and me\u2019s going to come back here, when we\u2019re not in such a dadburn hurry. We\u2019re gonna find our way right back to that pretty little spot, and we\u2019re gonna catch us a mess of crawdads that I reckon we could live off for a week.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss slapped his hand against the railing of the ferry and looked so pleased with the notion that Joe had to laugh.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss,\u201d he said and leaned over to pull his brother\u2019s hat down over his eyes. \u201cYou don\u2019t even like crawdads! How are you fixing to live off them for a week?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere\u2019s your spirit of adventure, Joseph?\u201d Hoss had admonished, tilting back his hat and staring across the swamp, with a pleased smile wide across his face. \u201cYou and me could have a fine time, without those two always hurrying us along.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss gestured toward Pa and Adam, who were huddled over their ledgers with their backs to the sun and weren\u2019t paying them any mind. The two grinned at each other. One thing that was for certain, Hoss and Little Joe Cartwright knew how to have a good time.<\/p>\n There was a time when Joe would have smiled over that memory. Yet, it was like he had been a boy for all of his eighteen years, and overnight he had grown up into the wrong kind of man. Losing Hoss wasn\u2019t something he would ever get over. All the rage he\u2019d experienced when his brother was shot had faded away. Taking his revenge on Red Twilight had accomplished nothing. It had not brought him a moment\u2019s peace or satisfaction. His nightmares made it clear that his act of vengeance was the last thing that Hoss would have ever wanted carried out in his name.<\/p>\n By the time Joe arrived at the port of Martinez, he had decided to change his plans. He needed to head somewhere that held no memory of his family. He mounted Cochise and considered where he should go. In the distance, he saw the looming mass of Mount Diablo, glowing pink from the sun setting in the west. It couldn\u2019t compete with the dramatic mountain ranges of the Sierras, but here the mountain dominated the valley. The sight triggered a memory from the previous year. He remembered Adam reading an article in the newspaper about the recent discovery of coal in the small town of Clayton. In his head, his brother\u2019s voice narrated the discovery with fine baritone detail. Joe almost smiled to hear it again. Adam would have never dreamed his younger brother had actually been listening.<\/p>\n Nestled in the base of the foothills that surrounded the peak of Mount Diablo, the first mining operations had hoped to find silver and gold and had been sorely disappointed. Finding coal instead had given the little town new life. When Adam read the article, Joe had little reason to be interested about the resurgence of life in Clayton. After all, the news didn\u2019t affect him, and Joe liked news he had a stake in.<\/p>\n Mounted on his horse, trying to figure which direction to head, Joe decided the clamor of a new mining town could provide just the place to disappear until the winter had passed and he could decide where to head next. So he made his way southeast, towards the newly teeming town of Clayton.<\/p>\n After a few hours ride, he found himself on Clayton\u2019s bustling main street. It was easy to find the town\u2019s only saloon. A steady stream of prospectors, cowhands, and settlers flowed in and out of its swinging doors. A shot rang out from around the corner, and he could hear raucous laughter.<\/p>\n A drunken miner stumbled by and said \u201cGood day,\u201d to him, with slurred courtliness. Joe sighed, tipped his hat to the man, and dismounted. It reminded him of the birth of Virginia City. The early years of a mining town were never boring.<\/p>\n The little saloon turned out to have more to offer than Joe had anticipated. The beer wasn\u2019t too warm, the girls were prettier than could be expected, and the other occupants knew how to mind their own business. After a few friendly inquiries were met by Joe\u2019s icy stare, anyone paying attention knew to back off and let well enough alone. The kid looked innocent enough, but there was also something about him that looked like trouble, and it was easy enough in this life to find trouble without going looking for it.<\/p>\n On his third beer, Joe overheard that the Miller ranch was looking for men who could handle a rifle to shoot mountain lions that prowled the foothills. It seemed the lions preyed on the cattle herds during the cold months. Winter was on its way. Pay wasn\u2019t bad, one man insisted, thirty-five dollars a month for the right man, along with food and lodging. Joe tossed his money on the bar and headed out the swinging doors. He still had money left from his poker winnings, but it wouldn\u2019t last forever. He wasn\u2019t interested in bunking with a bunch of cowhands, but he did need to eat, and he was a good shot. Good as anyone, some might say.<\/p>\n Joe ran a hand over his eyes. Being a good shot had helped lead him down his broken road, but all the same, it was an asset, and Joe wasn\u2019t afraid to use it.<\/p>\n In short order, he found his way to the Miller ranch, easily the biggest spread east of San Francisco. He proved his shooting prowess with several cans balanced on a split rail fence and when that proved too easy, a bottle thrown in the air and hit before it reached the ground told the ranch foreman everything he needed to know. Joe was hired, on the spot, and when he refused the offer of lodging, the foreman hardly raised an eyebrow.<\/p>\n \u201cHave it your way, kid,\u201d he had said. \u201cHotel\u2019s on Oak Street if you\u2019re wanting to live high on the hog. It\u2019s your paycheck, I reckon. Say, what did you say your last name was, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t say,\u201d Joe replied, tightening the cinch of his saddle, as he prepared for the ride back to town.<\/p>\n \u201cIffen a man works here, he\u2019s got to have two names,\u201d the man replied evenly.<\/p>\n \u201cThen I don\u2019t work here,\u201d Joe said. He checked his canteens for water and aimed a cool gaze at the man. \u201cMy name\u2019s Joe. If that ain\u2019t good enough, I figure there are other ranches that\u2019ll hire me. It\u2019s all the same to me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right kid,\u201d the man replied, taking off his hat and running his fingers through graying hair. \u201cNo need to get riled up. I reckon one name will do.\u201d<\/p>\n And it was settled. Joe started work the next morning, rising at dawn to ride across the foothills that surrounded the mountain. Autumn was slipping away, and a chill made the air brittle against his exposed face and hands, but he didn\u2019t mind the work. It was lonely and beautiful, riding through the drying grasses of rolling hills and valleys, spotted with live oaks. From a distance, it looked like the hills were made of spun gold and not coal.<\/p>\n He earned his keep. He proved a good shot, his aim was true, and he didn\u2019t have to talk to anyone all day if he didn\u2019t want to. Little Joe Cartwright, who had rarely kept a thought to himself, was turning into a quiet man.<\/p>\n His predilection for solitude was interrupted a month into his stay. It ended the day he watched a young cowhand mistreat a nervous palamino, who had resisted many efforts to break him. Joe had finished his day\u2019s work and had felt satisfied after managing to shoot an especially wily mountain lion that had been picking off the herd by Mount Diablo Creek. He rode back to the ranch to turn in his rifle for the day and stood off to the side, watching the young fool ruin a horse that had so much promise.<\/p>\n Joe did not realize that his hands were clenched into fists, as he watched the cowhand thrash at the beautiful animal. It made him so angry, the unnecessary use of violence as a tool, the needless destruction of all that potential. He knew he could handle the wildness in the gelding, had seen many others just like him back on the Ponderosa. Just thinking of his home made the back of his throat feel tight, but he pushed that feeling away, along with all the others. He had had his chance at living the life that was intended for him, and he had thrown it all away. He tried not to think of his pa and Adam at home, going through the motions of attending to the ranch. The pain of Hoss\u2019 death and the pain he had caused them would be a heartache that would not wear away.<\/p>\n \u201cYou think you can do better?\u201d The voice was quiet by his side. Joe had not heard anyone approach and was startled. He glanced sharply at the old wrangler who stood next to him. Jake Collins had been described to him as a legend in his time, when he worked at spreads between Sacramento and Stockton. A miracle worker with a horse, they said, he used to ride like an angel while sitting a saddle. No one was better at working with horses. Now Joe appraised him, unimpressed. The old man\u2019s hands had long been gnarled into uselessness, and his back was bent and arthritic. The time had long since passed, Joe figured, since Jake Collins was good for much of anything other than passing along his own opinion. Yet the foreman of the ranch seemed to have confidence in him; the ranch had employed Collins for nearly five years to do just that.<\/p>\n \u201cI reckon I could do better,\u201d Joe replied, turning back to the horse, barely able to suppress his own indignation at the travesty inside the coral. \u201cThat kid has no business being near a horse.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat horse is a handful,\u201d Collins told him, scratching the uneven gray and silver bristles that protruded from his chin. \u201cThree of our best riders already had a go at him. Need to break him. Otherwise he\u2019s not worth his feed. You seem to think you could do better? Tell me son. What gives you such a high opinion of yourself anyhow?\u201d<\/p>\n Joe looked over at the wrangler and hooked his thumbs over his gun belt.<\/p>\n \u201cExperience,\u201d he replied. \u201cThat and maybe some talent. Something that fool over there is lacking on all accounts.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSon, you look too young to me to have much experience or talent. You want to try your hand\u2026 well son, your mount\u2019s waiting. How old are you anyhow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOlder than I look,\u201d Joe said and straddled the fence without waiting for a second invitation. More than he cared to admit, he wanted to have a go at that horse.<\/p>\n Collins gestured for the other cowhand to leave the corral. The young man spit on the ground and regarded the old wrangler with such a look of rancor that Joe was somewhat taken aback. Later, he would think of the man\u2019s squinty face, the pinched look about the corners of his lips, so out of place in a fellow so young. There was something about the man that was unsettling, but Joe pushed the worry away. After all, a fine horse was waiting.<\/p>\n Joe regarded the horse inside the corral. He was tired and achy from his long day in the saddle. When riding back to the ranch, he had looked forward to getting back to town, having a beer and a bowl of hash, and going upstairs to the tiny room he couldn\u2019t bring himself to call home. Breaking a horse was the last thing on his mind. But Joe knew he had little choice. His father had always taught him to do the right thing despite any inconvenience to himself. He had broken his father\u2019s most serious commandment. Joe figured the least he could do was to get the little things right.<\/p>\n The palomino was blowing and stomping nervously. Joe knew that the horse was not completely wild; he had already been broken to a saddle, although none too successfully. Joe had never been intimidated by the prospect of gentling a difficult horse. Adam always said that it took a wild thing to know one, but Joe tried to pay his brother\u2019s voice no mind. Lately, he seemed to hear Adam talking in his head, and his words were often laden with accusations. Adam had always felt the need to be Joe\u2019s conscience. Joe resented it at the time, but now desperately wished his oldest brother had caught him the night he set out to hunt for Red Twilight. He shook the thought out of his head. Joe couldn\u2019t think about Adam right now. He needed to focus on the horse.<\/p>\n Joe approached the gelding slowly, with his shoulders drawn forward and his head tilted to one side, careful not to make eye contact with the frightened animal. When he was close enough, he held out his hand and brushed it against the horse\u2019s neck. To his gratification, the horse seemed to quiet under his touch. Hoss always said that it was a miracle that with all Joe\u2019s jumpiness, there was just no one better at gentling a horse. Hoss said his little brother was born to it. A natural, Hoss always said. Joe shook his head. There was something about the inside of that corral that was bringing the Ponderosa back into his head.<\/p>\n Joe took the reins and led the horse to stand against the fence, where he could mount without the palomino spooking away from him. No swing mount, this time. In one fluid movement, Joe mounted the gelding swiftly, so the animal would not have the chance to bolt away. Joe tried to sit deep in the saddle, to sit quiet, to let the horse know he meant him no harm.<\/p>\n The horse\u2019s reaction was less violent than anyone watching would have expected. Sure, he pitched and began to spin, but didn\u2019t seem to have the heart to throw off his rider. With one last lurch and plunge, the horse seemed to settle underneath him. He quieted down, and Joe dismounted, rubbing his hand up and down the gelding\u2019s neck.<\/p>\n \u201cThere now,\u201d he murmured, aware that he had a stunned audience straddling the fence. He tried not to think back to all the times his brothers watched him work a horse, cheering him on and hooting gleefully when he landed on his face in the dust. \u201cThat wasn\u2019t so bad. You just needed to be with someone who knew what you were up to.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe handed the reins over to a waiting cowhand and swung over the fence to stand next to the old wrangler. Collins had been watching his ride, with a thoughtful expression coming to light over his leathered features.<\/p>\n The old man was quiet for a spell and then finally said, \u201cYou got yourself a job, son.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe worked at hooking his gun belt back around his hips and did not look up.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t need one. I got a job that suits me fine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh I don\u2019t think so,\u201d Collins drawled and waited, until Joe met his eyes. \u201cI reckon you\u2019re more suited to settling wild things down than killing them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat I\u2019m suited for might surprise you,\u201d Joe snapped and tugged his hat low over his eyes. He didn\u2019t like the tone the old man had taken. It was almost like he knew some things about Joe that he shouldn\u2019t. But there was no use in arguing. They had watched him ride and, it had already been decided for him. He would take the job. Joe preferred to work alone and had enjoyed his time riding the foothills, but some things, it seemed, were meant to happen.<\/p>\n So Joe stayed on, breaking horses and getting paid handsomely for it. As the months passed, some small part of him allowed himself a small amount of pride that he had finally established a reputation for himself that had nothing to do with the name that he\u2019d been born to. Proving himself apart from his family was something he had always wanted. But he missed that name. Missed being a Cartwright so badly sometimes the longing seemed to be its own form of justice. When he was a boy, his father used to say that he always prayed his sons would get caught in their infractions. Although he had avoided the gallows, he was well aware that he hadn\u2019t gotten away with much of anything. Justice demanded restitution, and Joe was still paying the price.<\/p>\n Autumn passed into winter, and Christmas approached without Joe referring to it by name. However, on Christmas Eve, he stood outside the telegraph office, longing to send a wire to let his father know he was all right. For the past few weeks, it had taken all the self-control he could muster to stay away from that office. But he knew that a telegram would set his father up with a terrible dilemma. If he wired his family, even from a nearby town, the telegram would lead them right to him. Would Ben Cartwright be able to let his son get away with killing a man or would he wire the local authorities and turn him in? Joe could not bear to force his father into making that sort of decision. He turned away from the telegraph office and returned to his room to spend Christmas alone.<\/p>\n January passed in much the same way. It was a rare sunny afternoon, when Joe found himself lying in the mud of the corral, after being thrown from the last horse of the day. The month had brought days of rain and a grey sky that hung low over the mountain. Dripping with mud, he realized he should probably clean up before heading back to town. He eyed the water pump and started toward it but then gazed off in the distance towards Mitchell creek. The winter air was bracing, but the sun was bright, and washing at the creek would be a fine end for his day.<\/p>\n The ranch had been built close to the creek, and Joe was familiar with its meanderings. Although it couldn\u2019t compare to the spectacular vistas of the Ponderosa, Joe had grown fond of the pretty terrain that surrounded Mount Diablo, the valleys of rolling hills and gorges, dotted with ancient oaks. The brown grass of summer had already greened, seemingly overnight, and a single day of sunshine did wonders to diminish the standing water that had pooled in every ridge and rut. Joe rode down the slope that was already flush with upstart grass, past the wide-branching oaks that lined the creek. He dismounted at his favorite spot, under an especially majestic tree. He ducked under a low branch and climbed down until he reached his favorite place to sit and think. After taking off his shirt and splashing water over his face and arms, he sat on a flat rock at the edge and watched the creek, which was running higher and faster than usual from all the recent rain.<\/p>\n Before him, the creek sprayed over an outcropping of rocks and boulders, the water reflecting the mottled lattice of light shining through the leaves. The sight stirred something in him, brought him back to the pleasure that he always had for quiet places. Hoss would love this spot, he reflected and the thought of his brother drew tears from his eyes. Joe swiped them away with the back of his hand in disgust. He was absolutely alone in the world, and it was high time he got used the idea of it.<\/p>\n Lost in his thoughts and listening to the gurgle and spray of the creek, he did not hear Jake Collins ride up behind him. He did not hear the old man\u2019s uneven footsteps as he made his way down to the water.<\/p>\n \u201cCome springtime, that creek\u2019ll be running with salmon so thick, all a fellow needs to do is reach in and pull one out.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe almost jumped out of his skin. His hand flew for his gun, before he got hold of himself and put it away. Without comment, the old wrangler came alongside Joe and sat beside him on the rock. Breathing hard, Joe gave the man an exasperated scowl.<\/p>\n \u201cIf you value your life, you might give a fellow some warning,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cNo salmon right now,\u201d Collins continued, as if Joe hadn\u2019t spoken. \u201cBut plenty of other fish with all this rain. What do you say you and me go fishing come Sunday? I figured you might have some time. You don\u2019t strike me as a church-going man.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe snorted despite himself, thinking of all of the Sunday mornings his brothers had dragged him out of bed at the stern admonition of his father. He had attended church nearly every Sunday of his life. However, he had not set foot in a church, since leaving the Ponderosa and had no intention of doing so.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t fish,\u201d Joe said at last, trying not to think of Hoss and how his brother would have loved to go fishing at this creek. He picked up a pebble and tossed it, watching it bounce against a rock before it tumbled in.<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t fish?\u201d the wrangler asked, slapping his hand against his knee in disbelief. \u201cNow that strikes me as mighty strange. Most folks around here learn to hold a fishing pole before they can walk. Now what kind of people you come from that they never taught you to fish?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood people,\u201d Joe answered immediately, frowning at the question. \u201cThey taught me everything I needed to know. I didn\u2019t always listen\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d imagine that\u2019s truth, I surely do,\u201d Jake said, plucking a blade of grass and chewing on its tip. \u201cI reckoned you had family behind you. A boy like you doesn\u2019t just leak out of the landscape.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d Joe asked, despite himself. He should have just let the old man\u2019s comment slide by, but his natural curiosity got the best of him.<\/p>\n \u201cYou just strike me as the sort who comes from good people, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFor all the good I did with it,\u201d Joe muttered.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean by that, son?\u201d Collins picked up a pebble and skipped it, whistling when it bounced a few times before disappearing into the swirling water.<\/p>\n \u201cI mean I\u2019ve made a real mess of things,\u201d Joe replied and shook his head at his lack of discretion. He\u2019d already said more than he intended, but once he\u2019d started talking, he didn\u2019t seem to be able to stop. \u201cI\u2019ve done things that I can\u2019t take back. Things that can\u2019t be forgiven.\u201d<\/p>\n The old wrangler was quiet for a while, before he spoke again. When he did, his voice was barely audible over the rush of the water. Joe had to strain to hear him.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know son, I\u2019ve lived a long time. My cinch is getting mighty frayed, you could say. But one thing I\u2019ve learned from all that living. There\u2019s a lot more to a man than the worst thing he\u2019s ever done.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe stared at the man intently. Jake Collins\u2019 words dug deep into a part of his heart he didn\u2019t want to expose. Yet there was something about the man\u2019s last statement that confused him, that seemed to fly in the face of what he\u2019d been taught before.<\/p>\n After giving it some thought, Joe said, \u201cMy pa always taught me that a man\u2019s life could be judged by the sum of his actions. That he had to make the right choices, to live up to his name.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell I\u2019d expect your pa\u2019s right, up to a point,\u201d the wrangler said. \u201cBut every man has his share of sins. You so special you come up with any new ones?\u201d<\/p>\n Joe smiled at that but then remembered his particular transgression.<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t have any idea what I\u2019ve done,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cOh I expect I do,\u201d Collins replied. \u201cI reckon you turned left when you should have turned right.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe looked at the old wrangler with genuine curiosity, but the man had already turned away. What the man said grabbed hold of him. It wasn\u2019t like the man\u2019s words were anything he hadn\u2019t heard before. It was just that they had slipped his mind.<\/p>\n He took a pebble and skipped it across the water, just the way Adam had taught him. It bounced several times and seemed to float on the surface for a breath-holding moment. Then it stalled and vanished in the shadowed water.<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n Ben stared out the window, at snow falling upon snow, and wondered if he had lost his faith.<\/p>\n The bleak light of winter was strangely satisfying to him. Normally, he was a man who longed to be outdoors, who thrilled to the prospect of a fine, sunny day. Even at his age, his body was muscled and strong, better suited to moving through wide-open spaces than to be sitting inside and waiting. Winter had always made him uneasy, a fact that he had never admitted to his sons. Ben had always harbored an irrational fear that once snow started falling it would never stop again. He was a man of action. He had never been good at waiting.<\/p>\n And the snow kept falling. The darkening days on either side of the winter solstice matched the state of Ben\u2019s soul, like a glove. Winter had never been his season, but this year he didn\u2019t know if there would be an end to it.<\/p>\n During the first terrible days after Joe went missing, the weather was cloudless and lovely, as if mocking all of them for their trivial concerns. How could anyone know despair on such a beautiful day?<\/p>\n Of course, there had been blessings, even during those first days. Ben was not such an old fool that he could forget what he had to be thankful for. Willie\u2019s girl Mary had come to the Ponderosa the morning Joe disappeared and told Hoss the truth about Willie\u2019s death. Although his gentle-hearted son barely roused in his bed while she spoke, later that night he awakened and seemed to understand what she had tried to tell him.<\/p>\n \u201cPa,\u201d Hoss whispered and accepted a sip of water. \u201cWhat she said\u2026 Was she telling the truth Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe was telling the truth son,\u201d Ben said, with a smile of relief. Hoss already looked so much better. The doctor had been by that evening and confirmed that by all indications, Hoss had turned a corner and would fully recover.<\/p>\n \u201cPa\u2026\u201d Hoss said, his eyes barely open. He was already slipping back into sleep. \u201cSomething else bothers me. Don\u2019t let Little Joe\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss\u2019 voice faded into sleep, but his father knew exactly what he wanted to say. And Ben Cartwright\u2019s heart broke again. He kept vigil at Hoss\u2019 side for rest of that night and watched his middle son sleep. He had learned long ago that it took more than a heart breaking to kill you.<\/p>\n So he kept on living, as they all did.<\/p>\n Adam was gone for the rest of that terrible day and the one after that as well. He rode into Virginia City with Roy Coffee and wired every nearby town to be on the lookout for a boy with a wounded arm who was riding a pinto. Sheriff Coffee even sent authorization to hold Joe in jail until help arrived. He didn\u2019t specify what Joe was being charged with. As far as the law was concerned, the boy wasn\u2019t guilty of anything. Adam rode to Carson City and then all the way to Truckee. The answer was the same. No one had seen his brother. That afternoon, Hop Sing found the remains of Joe\u2019s jacket on the trail behind the house. Blood splattered the sleeve, and a strip had been torn from it. It was clear that Joe had been by the house after he was shot. Where he was headed and why he ran, no one could say.<\/p>\n When Hoss recovered enough to be left alone with Hop Sing, Ben and Adam left the Ponderosa to search through towns that Joe had been familiar with. They searched for weeks until the bright snap of autumn turned downright brittle, and clouds gathered and darkened over the mountains. Winter was coming their way, and neither could afford to be away from home when it came.<\/p>\n Whatever it takes, the two men told each other when they started to search, but in the end it wasn\u2019t enough. Joe had disappeared into the dust of the earth, as if he\u2019d never been born. When winter arrived early that year, it came at them with a vengeance that Ben took personally. The mountain passes were covered with snow after the first storm. No more searching would be feasible until spring.<\/p>\n And Ben Cartwright was an angry man. Sometimes, he directed his anger at Joseph, sometimes at God. Some days, he was mad at everyone, and every hand on the Ponderosa knew on those days to steer clear of him.<\/p>\n If the truth be known, his anger was born of confusion. The boundaries Ben had always set for his life had always been so well defined. He was a moral man, a good man; few who knew him would disagree. He had always instructed his sons that there was a right way and a wrong way to everything. He couldn\u2019t comprehend how his youngest son had gotten it so wrong. Why had he run? After all, the boy had acted in self-defense, would never be charged with any crime. Hoss had never needed his younger brother more desperately. How could the boy have turned his back on his family?<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s disappearance hit Hoss hard, slowed his recovery, even the doctor had to admit it. Although he finally understood he had not caused Willie\u2019s death, Hoss felt he was somehow responsible for causing Joe to run away. None of them could make sense of it, but they all knew that Joe had believed he had reason to run and keep running.<\/p>\n Raising Joe had not been an easy task. Ben had sometimes joked that his youngest son had been born as God\u2019s way of teaching him humility. But the roughest roads seemed to be behind them. Emerging from his somewhat wild boyhood, Joe had matured into a charming, hard working young man. Although he was a bit freer with the ladies than a father would have liked, everything seemed to indicate that he was Ben Cartwright\u2019s son and was growing into the sort of man who put the needs of others before his own.<\/p>\n If he was being honest, Ben could not say who had disappointed him the most, himself or his son. He couldn\u2019t understand how it had all fallen apart. All his hopes and dreams for each of his boys. Their future together on the Ponderosa. Their closeness was what distinguished them as a family, not their wealth or their land. But with one member missing, the others seemed at loose ends. The endless snowbound days gave each of them too much time to think about what had gone wrong.<\/p>\n Even Adam, the only son not physically injured by Red Twilight, was nursing his own wounds. Adam concealed his pain well, as he always had since he was a boy, but there were some hurts that couldn\u2019t stay hidden.<\/p>\n One night at dinner, when Hoss was finally recovered enough to join them at the table, the three remaining Cartwrights ate the dinner Hop Sing had prepared for them. They briefly discussed the condition of the fences in the south pasture and considered buying a stallion that could improve the bloodlines from an especially promising mare. With the business of the Ponderosa accounted for, they ate in silence, each man keeping his own counsel. Suddenly the whole table shook, as Adam pounded his fist against it.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat the hell was I thinking?\u201d Adam asked, ignoring the shocked glances of his father and brother. \u201cI fell asleep that night! How could I have fallen asleep with Hoss in such bad shape and Joe in the state he was in? I knew how upset Joe was. I should have stayed up and listened for him. I should have known he\u2019d go after Red Twilight!\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss put down his fork, his appetite gone. Ben looked at his two sons; he saw the toll the past months had taken on his family. How long had it been since the house had known any laughter? Joe had made the decision to leave, but they were all paying for it dearly. Ben felt determination to set things right rising in his chest, pooling there until he felt that it might overflow, if he didn\u2019t speak his peace. He reached across and placed one hand over Adam\u2019s and one over Hoss\u2019 as well.<\/p>\n \u201cNow you listen to me,\u201d he said to his older sons. \u201cYour brother made his own choice. He chose to leave this house and go after that man. He chose to leave the Ponderosa. I don\u2019t know why. If I know your younger brother at all, he must have felt he had his reasons. But it was his choice. We can\u2019t blame ourselves for the choices he made. We can only pray that he comes to his senses and makes the choice to come home. He\u2019s a grown man, and none of us bear the blame for his decisions.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben Cartwright spoke the words confidently and sounded like he believed them. If nothing else, they seemed to provide comfort to his oldest sons. Yet he didn\u2019t absolve himself so easily. The nagging suspicion that he had failed as a father had taken hold of his heart.<\/p>\n When Christmas arrived, Ben\u2019s melancholy reached fruition. Until the holiday passed without a word, he hadn\u2019t fully realized that he had been setting his hopes on the possibility of the sound of familiar hoof beats riding hard from the main road or at the very least, a telegram arriving from town. When the day ended as it began, Ben began to seriously question whether he would see his youngest son again.<\/p>\n He knew the mountain roads were impassable from the latest series of storms, but that had never stopped Joseph before. That boy of his would do anything he set his mind to. Calling a task impossible only made it more likely he\u2019d give it a try. He smiled a bit when he thought of the boy\u2019s stubbornness. Having survived many run-ins with that willfulness, Ben felt uniquely qualified to testify to Joe\u2019s implacability in the face of a challenge. Sometimes, Ben felt he had indulged that stubbornness more than he should. He remembered the many times he had watched his boy race his pinto. The father\u2019s stomach would lurch as he watched youth, abandon, and a fast horse twine together and send the boy flying across meadows and ravines. He should have stopped him, should have told him not to take so many chances, but it was so wonderful when the boy smiled that Ben hadn\u2019t the heart to slow him down.<\/p>\n Ben stood at the window. He looked at the snow falling aslant over the world, his world, the one he had built as a legacy. He had done everything possible to build a kingdom that would stand, but it was easy to forget that he was a father and not a king. A father could only do so much. There were limits to his authority. His sons were grown men and were entitled to their own mistakes. Joseph had always made more than his share, it was true, but maybe the lessons simply took longer to take hold.<\/p>\n Ben had always told his boys not to waste suffering when it came to them, to pay attention to the lessons that sorrow and pain could teach a man. With typical stubbornness, he had neglected to heed his own advice.<\/p>\n So he stayed by the window and waited and tried to pray. He resolved not to waste his own suffering. And it seemed to him that the answers would lie in the waiting.<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n Joe dismounted and followed Jake Collins into the saloon. It was already late, but the room clamored with the high spirits of men who had a week\u2019s pay burning holes in their pockets. It had been a long day, that was for sure, but he had almost finished breaking the newest string of horses. His hard work would bring a decent profit to the ranch. Despite himself, Joe felt a peculiar satisfaction over the role he had played in that venture. The foreman had protested that the horses were too high-strung to justify their purchase, but Joe had argued his point succinctly, had won Collins to his side, and in the end managed to prove that even the most ill-tempered horse could be broken, with the right handling.<\/p>\n \u201cA beer for my friend and some tarantula juice for myself,\u201d Collins was telling the barkeep.<\/p>\n Joe raised an eyebrow at the man, but the old wrangler just laughed.<\/p>\n \u201cA boy without a last name ain\u2019t old enough for anything stronger than a beer,\u201d he needled Joe. \u201cYou tell me your full name, and I\u2019ll buy you that whiskey.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd why in tarnation do you need to know my name?\u201d Joe asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI reckon,\u201d Collins said. \u201cA man can leave home in such a hurry he forgets to take his right name with him \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n His good mood somewhat soured, Joe rolled his eyes and took a sip of his beer. He studied the dullness of the scratched glass he was holding. He had always been easy to provoke, a fact his brothers often used to their advantage. However, Joe was determined not to let Collins get a rise out of him. Despite his irritation, the beer went down easy, and he felt himself relaxing into his evening.<\/p>\n He looked around the saloon that had become so familiar over the past several months. Sally, a girl he had passed time with, looked up from a table of new prospectors and gave him a wink and a smile. He smiled back and then quickly looked away. He was becoming comfortable in this new life, and that bothered him. His transgressions had not been forgotten. Joe had been raised to believe in justice and knew that wrongs would be made right in the end. His day of judgment just hadn\u2019t come yet.<\/p>\n The time he had set for himself to leave Clayton had already come and gone. The rain was easing up, and waves of mustard, lupine and poppies were blooming in the valleys. The snow on the mountain passes would be melting soon.<\/p>\n All the same, he couldn\u2019t bring himself to move on. He still kept a good distance from the other men, but lately he had taken to sitting with Collins at the end of the week, over a few drinks and an occasional game of cards. Joe didn\u2019t know why he felt so comfortable around him. Didn\u2019t understand what distinguished this one old man from all the others. It wasn\u2019t like Joe had been giving his secrets away to anyone. But somehow, it was like Collins already knew what Joe had done. It was like Joe had already repented, confessed, and been forgiven.<\/p>\n Late into the night, they\u2019d taken to talking. It didn\u2019t add up to much. Just easy talk really, about horses and poker and women. As the evening wore on and they\u2019d been through a few rounds, they\u2019d talk about life and what it had cost them. Sometimes, they didn\u2019t talk at all. In this way, the man reminded him of Hoss and the comfortable silence that could settle between them.<\/p>\n After a stretch of this kind of silence, Joe decided to voice his thoughts. \u201cI\u2019ll be moving on soon.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou going home.\u201d It really wasn\u2019t a question, but Joe treated it like it was.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u201cI reckon there\u2019s places left that I\u2019ve been meaning to see. Been saving my money. I figure I can get a ways on what I\u2019ve earned so far. I don\u2019t need much to get by, and besides I don\u2019t eat much.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, if that ain\u2019t the truth,\u201d Collins chortled, and they both laughed. Joe\u2019s lack of appetite had already been noted at the ranch. For a young man who put in such a hard day\u2019s work, he sure didn\u2019t need much food to keep him going. Joe couldn\u2019t tell anyone, that after losing Hoss and his family, food didn\u2019t taste like it used to.<\/p>\n Then a serious look passed over Collin\u2019s face, and he leaned forward on his elbows. His mouth flattened into a line, the creases around his eyes becoming pronounced and determined. Immediately, Joe felt a tickle at the back of his throat and tried to swallow. He had a bad feeling that the conversation was heading down a road he wasn\u2019t prepared to follow.<\/p>\n Collins took in the expression on his young friend\u2019s face, and he laughed. \u201cNow don\u2019t you start worrying. I ain\u2019t about to start lecturing you. That\u2019s not my way. I believe every man has the right to live his own life. I just want you to think on one thing. I\u2019ve been watching you since you came, and I\u2019ve never met anyone who took things harder than you. You\u2019re always looking over your shoulder, like you\u2019re half-expecting someone to be coming after you. I reckon you\u2019ve got some things to make right, before you move on. A man that looks over his shoulder at every piece of straight road ain\u2019t been living a straight life. It\u2019s never too late to do what you know you ought to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow you sound like my pa,\u201d Joe said, almost to himself. He took a long draw from his beer and smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cThen your pa\u2019s a man that should be listened to,\u201d Collins replied. He smiled back and rubbed at his eyes, red rimmed and crinkling from years riding under the sun.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd just so you know, that was a lecture,\u201d Joe said and set down his glass. \u201cTrust me, I\u2019ve been at the receiving end of enough lectures to know one when I hear it.\u201d<\/p>\n They both laughed. And Collins paid for the last round of drinks and headed out the door to retrieve their horses from the livery. A few weeks earlier, Joe had moved out of his paid room in town and into the bunkhouse. He justified the move by telling himself that he needed to save every cent for the next stretch of his journey.<\/p>\n Joe waited in front of the saloon for a while, buttoning his coat against the bite of the wind that swept down from the mountain. Spring was on its way, but as Collins had been saying for weeks, it was likely to take its own sweet time in arriving. In the valley around the mountain, a chill could linger in the air until early summer. Joe wondered what was taking his friend so long. It was late, he felt the day\u2019s work as heaviness in his bones, and he was ready to get home. He was so impatient in the waiting that he didn\u2019t realize he had started to think of the ranch as home.<\/p>\n Fighting back a yawn, he set after his friend. Like all mining towns, the main street was more alive during the night than the day. Drunken miners hung out of second story windows, laughing and haranguing their friends down on the street. The lilt of a piano player tinkled merrily from behind the saloon doors. And beyond the town, the mountain loomed, ghostly and glowing under the moon. The street and the slants of the rough framed buildings were robed in moonlight, and the stars paraded across the whole of the sky. It was beautiful. Joe stopped a moment and closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time when a beautiful sight made him feel so settled inside.<\/p>\n He was still standing there in the street, when the shot was fired. At first Joe figured the gunshot for some drunken cowboys having fun. Miners and cowhands from the outlying ranches often fired their guns in the air, often late into the night. But something wasn\u2019t right. He only heard one shot, and it wasn\u2019t followed by laughter. An uneasy feeling came over him, and he started towards the alley behind the livery.<\/p>\n Rounding the corner, Joe half collided with another man who ran from the other direction. At first, the man\u2019s face was obscured in the murk of the alley, but as he tried to shove past Joe, a swathe of moonlight slashed across his face. As if the heavens themselves were determined to reveal the man, Joe got a good look at his face. He immediately recognized the face of the ranch hand that had thrashed that poor horse so many months earlier, before Joe had stepped in. Joe hadn\u2019t seen the man in months, because Collins had fired him the following day. The old wrangler had said that the man was incompetent and had a bad attitude to boot. Joe had reckoned that the young man would have found a new spread with a fresh supply of good horses to ruin by this time.<\/p>\n As if suspended in mutual recognition, the two stared at each other for a long spell, although it was probably only a few seconds. Startled, Joe realized the ranch hand was probably the same age as he was. What Joe had mistaken for youth and inexperience was something else entirely. The young man knew exactly what he had been doing to that horse, and he just didn\u2019t care.<\/p>\n The man stared at Joe with his lidded eyes and smiled. The smile struck Joe as vaguely reptilian; he had seen a similar smile before. A previously forgotten memory came upon him. He remembered Red Twilight\u2019s face as he reached for his gun, smiling even as he pulled the trigger. Joe had not known that a smile could be so hateful until then.<\/p>\n Joe blinked in confusion. Up to that moment, he had remembered nothing of what had happened in the clearing, only the terrible awakening to that nightmare of blood. He shook his head, as if to clear it, and Red\u2019s face faded, and the face of the ranch hand reappeared in its place.<\/p>\n The man smirked, tipped his hat to Joe, and disappeared around the bend into the waiting darkness. For a moment, Joe considered giving chase, but a groan carried around the corner. A familiar smell carried with it. He wondered that he didn\u2019t notice it before. The vestiges of gunpowder wafted in the air, along with something else, something he had tried to forget.<\/p>\n More images clouded his mind. He saw his brother Hoss lying in the dirt. He remembered the rush of his anger, so visceral it was more a thing than a feeling. It had form; it had substance. He could wrap his fingers around it. His anger had a life of its own.<\/p>\n He remembered Red Twilight\u2019s face, a smile in the shadows between the trees. He remembered the bullet\u2019s violence surprising him with pain, racing down his arm. He saw Red Twilight falling to the ground, blood pouring out of his gut. He remembered the pine trees veiled in red haze, as if blood had changed the color of the landscape. He remembered falling, his own blood spilling onto the ground. He remembered the memories with all of his senses, but they didn\u2019t make any sense. It was as if they belonged to someone else, and he shook his head to try to free himself from them.<\/p>\n And then he remembered where he was. And he started to run.<\/p>\n It didn\u2019t take long to find what he was looking for. Joe tore around the corner and immediately fell over a figure writhing on the ground. Joe reached out frantically, feeling the dirt sticky underneath his hands. He knew what he was feeling, before his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he felt the life breath of the man fading away, felt the warm tide of blood ebbing and flowing under his fingers.<\/p>\n \u201cJake,\u201d Joe whispered, trying to find the source of the blood, in the dark. \u201cI\u2019m here. You\u2019ll be all right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGutshot,\u201d the old wrangler gasped, as if every word cost him. \u201cAin\u2019t nothing to be done. It\u2019s over, boy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Joe said, reaching for the man\u2019s hand. His own hands were covered with blood, but there was no stopping it. And he was so sorry. The old man had always seemed to understand Joe\u2019s need for absolution.<\/p>\n Collins whispered, \u201cIt ain\u2019t never too late to do the right thing. Tell me you\u2019ll do it\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll do it,\u201d Joe said, not fully understanding his promise, but he had been taught to take his promises seriously. It was a promise to his brother that had led him down this road. Collins\u2019 breathing began to gurgle in the dark. Joe knew what that meant. He had heard that sound before. His friend was drowning in his own blood.<\/p>\n Jake Collins choked and gasped for another breath, and Joe felt the man\u2019s heart stop beating beneath his hands.<\/p>\n Joe cried for just a minute, before he felt the grief seep away. Immediately, rage surged in to take its place. He felt it fount out of the darkness inside of his soul that he had believed was long gone. Then Joe knew the truth, and the certainty was his accuser, made him feel ill and trembling inside.<\/p>\n His capacity for violence was not dead; it had simply been lying in wait and biding its time.<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s heart pounded in his chest, and he felt his hand brush against the handle of his gun, even before he knew what he was thinking about doing. It was all coming back to him, the torrent of grief, the rising desperation, and the hunger for vengeance. He remembered Hoss lying face down in the dirt, the life pulsing out the wound with every beat of his heart. The shooter so close at hand and getting away, his impotent fury as he rode for a doctor, instead of tracking him down like he had wanted. Pa and Adam\u2019s infuriating composure, in the face of his brother\u2019s impending death.<\/p>\n But your brother\u2019s not dead,<\/em>a voice inside him said. The voice sounded so much like Jake Collins that Joe had to touch the body lying in front of him to be certain the man was really dead. For a moment, he considered the words, before pushing them away as hope talking. His friend was dead, and his brother had most likely been dead for several months now. In his eighteen years of life, Joe had seen enough death to be glutted with it. But he had made a promise. He didn\u2019t know where he was heading.<\/p>\n Joe walked back across the town. Oddly, he wasn\u2019t in a hurry. Adam would have said he was in shock, but Joe was thinking quite clearly. He\u2019d always been good when it came to tracking things down. He walked past an old pepper tree that stood in front of the hotel. The branches above shivered and rattled in the breeze. He could hear the fallen peppercorns crunching under his boots. They had fallen off too early. Against the dim flicker of an oil lamp, he could see the outlines of bats flitting and fluttering out of the eaves of the mercantile. Even with the moonlight, it was such a dark night.<\/p>\n Joe walked until he found him. Found the fool tightening the cinch of his saddle in front of the tavern, as if he had all the time in the world. Joe stared from the shadows and watched him.<\/p>\n That\u2019s what killers have in common,<\/em> he thought, they just don\u2019t think ahead. If you\u2019re going to murder a man, you should at least think about how you\u2019re going to get away with it. <\/em><\/p>\n His thoughts seemed to rise out of a different part of his mind, a way of thinking he didn\u2019t fully recognize.<\/p>\n Silently, Joe drew his gun. He had always been fast. Folks used to say he was the fastest draw in Virginia City. A natural, born to it, they said. He held the gun steady and waited. He wondered what he would do. The answer, it seemed, would lie in the waiting.<\/p>\n As he waited, he heard his father\u2019s voice out of the darkness, calling him to come home. He couldn\u2019t understand what his father was trying to tell him, but he knew it was time to listen. A man\u2019s life could be judged by the sum of his actions, but he was worth more than the worst thing he had ever done. It was time to consider his choices. It was time to decide what kind of man he would become.<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s voice, once he found it, was quiet and strong.<\/p>\n Without wavering, he said, \u201cTurn around, and put down your gun.\u201d<\/p>\n The young man turned quickly and smiled, when he saw Joe\u2019s aimed gun.<\/p>\n \u201cI wondered when you\u2019d show up,\u201d he said. \u201cYou\u2019re probably upset right now. I expect you and old man Collins got right close, while I was gone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m taking you to the sheriff,\u201d Joe said.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d have thought you\u2019d be wanting to settle things between us,\u201d the young man hissed. \u201cYou don\u2019t strike me as the sort that puts too much stock in the law.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m taking you in.\u201d Joe heard doors swinging open, was aware of men and women gathering at the edge of the road. For the size of the audience that was growing, the night was absolutely still. An owl hooted from the eaves of the livery, the only creature that dared upset the silence. Everyone was intent on watching the show unfold.<\/p>\n The young man moved so fast Joe barely had time to react, but of course he did. The bullet that was fired bit into the ground at Joe\u2019s feet. Dust and gravel sprayed into his face, making his eyes sting, and the smell of gunpowder once again filled the air. The young man had been faster than he looked, but he wasn\u2019t as fast as Joe. He sunk to his knees, stared at Joe in disbelief, and collapsed, dead before he hit the ground.<\/p>\n The onlookers had scattered when the shots were fired, and Joe found himself alone on the street. He looked at the gun warming his hand, and considered that justice had chased him down, after all. He was tired of holding a gun in his hand, tired of being the reason for so much blood. It was time to put an end to it. He was late to learn what his family had tried to teach him, but it was never too late to do the right thing.<\/p>\n With resolution, he walked towards the jail down the main street. The sheriff was already stumbling out the door, his shirt half-buttoned and his gun drawn. Joe stood before him and thought to himself that he had a kind face; he was the good sort of man who had become a lawmaker because he believed in the difference between right and wrong. It was good to surrender to such a man. The sheriff frowned, as Joe held out his gun.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s this all about?\u201d the sheriff asked, taking the proffered weapon, while keeping his own steady. \u201cWhat was all that shooting?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m here to turn myself in,\u201d Joe said. A sense of peace washed over him, made him feel glad inside. It was time to stop running. Time to hold fast to his right name. \u201cI\u2019m guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n The sheriff\u2019s forehead furrowed in confusion. He looked at the young man, a kid really, standing before him with his bloodied hands raised up. He had a strange, sad smile across his face.<\/p>\n \u201cYoung fellow, can you tell me your name?\u201d he asked. \u201cTell me who you are, before we talk about whether or not you\u2019re guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe only had to consider his answer for a minute. Jake Collin\u2019s words still echoed in his head.<\/p>\n A man can leave home in such a hurry he forgets to take his right name with him \u2026<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m Ben Cartwright\u2019s son,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n ********** Hoss lifted the axe and winced at the ache in his back. The pain from the bullet had faded over the past couple months. It bothered him mostly in the morning, when he pulled himself out of bed, after sleeping on it all night. Then if felt crabby and hot, as if the wound was resurrecting itself. But even that was fading. Doc Martin said the human body had a mind of its own and would heal when it was good and ready. Hoss always had a great deal of faith in doctors and took the doctor\u2019s words as truth.<\/p>\n He knew his body would heal in time, but there were other kinds of pain that showed no signs of getting better. The pain from the bullet wound was nothing compared to the pain of finding out his little brother had disappeared. For the first few weeks, guilt welled up all over again and even threatened his recovery, until he realized it was his own guilt that set off the whole tragic set of events in the first place.<\/p>\n Hoss Cartwright was a humble man, and he believed that things happened for purposes that he couldn\u2019t understand. When all was said and done, Hoss couldn\u2019t bring himself to believe that he alone was responsible for the decisions of other men. It was a bitter pill to take, but some things were simply beyond his control.<\/p>\n He hadn\u2019t healed enough along to ride with his pa and Adam while they searched for Joe across the territory. They didn\u2019t return to the Ponderosa, until the snow made searching right near impossible. So Hoss stayed home through the remainder of fall and the winter. He worked around the ranch, and he healed, and he waited. They all waited, with varying degrees of patience.<\/p>\n Even after a series of winter blizzards made riding dangerous, Adam rigged up the sleigh and continued his forays into Virginia City. He wired the sheriffs in town after town, but he received few replies. Nobody had seen a brown-haired boy with a slight build, wearing a left-handed holster low on his hips, who rode a pinto fast when he should have gone slow. Besides, the law had better ways to spend its time than keeping an eye out for some rich man\u2019s kid.<\/p>\n His pa and Adam were still convinced they would find him, as soon as the snow melted enough to make traveling easier. However, Hoss had few illusions. Little Joe had thrown himself into the open spaces of the West. Hoss knew his little brother. It made him sad to think about it, but he knew Little Joe would come home only if he was ready. If he wasn\u2019t already dead\u2026<\/p>\n Hoss was blessed with a temperament that allowed him to tolerate waiting easier than the rest of his family. They were all men who far preferred taking action over waiting around to see what life would bring to their doorstep. Hoss wanted to find Joe just as bad as they did, but there was little any of them could do. Besides, the Ponderosa demanded its fair share of attention and would not be put off indefinitely. With solemn hearts, the three remaining Cartwrights returned to the work of running the ranch. And they waited.<\/p>\n Hoss lifted the axe and split the wood in two. Each half fell apart in perfect symmetry and he was admiring his neat handiwork, when he first heard it. He heard a sound that sounded like far away thunder, but there weren\u2019t any clouds over the lake. The sky was blue and brilliant, a jewel of a day. The sun glinted against the snow and made it sparkle like it was freshly fallen. Hoss tried to love all the seasons equally, but he had always set a special place in his heart for early spring.<\/p>\n The sound was getting louder, and Hoss set down his axe. It almost sounded like hoof-fall, but nobody rode his horse like that. A feeling came over him then, and before he could push it away, it took root and flowered in his mind. He was so sure of his newfound conviction he\u2019d stake his life on it coming to pass.<\/p>\n Hoss was all finished with waiting. As it turned out, he wasn\u2019t that patient after all.<\/p>\n \u201cPa! Adam!\u201d he yelled as loud as he could. But he wasn\u2019t waiting for either of them to come out of the house. Hoss was running up the main road as fast as he knew how to meet up with his little brother.<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n Joe had been riding hard and fast. When he reached the turn-off that led to the house, he reined to a stop and caught his breath. Joe sat quiet in the saddle and surveyed the Ponderosa. From his vantage point near the crest of the hill, he could see across the arc of mountains covered with snow, the miles of forested ridges impossibly bright underneath the full sun. For the first time in months, he felt like he could breathe deeply. The air was full of perfume. It smelled like his boyhood, like warm summer afternoons tromping through the woods after his brothers. The scent of the pine forests filled his lungs, and he felt drunk with it. If he could just hold on to the moment, he was sure it would be enough to sustain him for the rest of his life, no matter how short that life might be. He was glad he had returned home to say goodbye.<\/p>\n It would take a measure of strength he wasn\u2019t sure he had, but Joe was determined to see his pa and Adam one last time before he turned himself in to Sheriff Coffee. His attempt to surrender to Clayton\u2019s sheriff had not gone as he planned. Each eyewitness to the shooting insisted that Joe had fired in self-defense. His protests that he was in fact guilty had pretty much been ignored.<\/p>\n Joe tried to explain to the sheriff that he was wanted in Virginia City for killing a man. Insisted the lawman search through his records and see for himself what he was accused of. With a bemused expression, the man had sorted through stacks of posters and telegrams, with Joe looking over his shoulder impatiently.<\/p>\n Finally the sheriff rested his hands flat on his desk and said, \u201cI can\u2019t find anything that tells me you\u2019re wanted for anything in Virginia City or anywhere else! It\u2019s not for lack of trying neither! I\u2019ve looked through my records for the past year and can\u2019t find a thing. You say you killed a man, and you\u2019re on the run. You don\u2019t look like the kind of boy that would lie about a thing like that, but I\u2019m afraid I can\u2019t arrest you without someone telling me you\u2019re accused of something. You want to turn yourself in, I expect you\u2019d better go back to Virginia City and surrender to the folks who are looking for you.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe had grabbed his hat off the chair and fumed out the door. Once outside, he threw it to the ground in disgust and wondered what he should do. As he stared down the street, his gaze fell upon the doctor\u2019s office where he had brought Jake Collins\u2019 body. It wasn\u2019t like the doctor could do anything for the man. Joe figured he owed it to his friend, not to leave him lying in the alley.<\/p>\n He had tried to do the right thing, had tried to turn himself in, but it seemed that the town of Clayton was not interested in demanding justice from him. He knew what he had to do, although it killed him inside to do it. He needed to go home to the Ponderosa to seek forgiveness for what he had done. After that, Roy Coffee\u2019s jail and the gallows would be waiting for him in Virginia City.<\/p>\n Once he made his decision, he left the town quickly, returning to Miller Ranch long enough to collect his pay and his few belongings. He would need his coat for the long ride home, through the treacherous mountain passes.<\/p>\n In some ways, Joe found the returning more trying than the leaving. The days stretched out in front of him as he rode across mile after mile of snow-covered mountains so steep he was sure his horse would lose his footing. There were days he didn\u2019t know if he would make it home. He had barely packed enough food for the trip, and the trails were slushy and treacherous in the melting snow. But he couldn\u2019t bring himself to make any more stops than were absolutely necessary. Once he had his heart set on home, Joe determined that nothing was going to stop him. He was stubborn that way. Pa always said so.<\/p>\n When the trails were easier and his mind was freed to think about more than surviving, he started to worry about what he would say once he got back to the Ponderosa. As he rode over the final ridge that separated him from the lake, whispers and accusations began to crowd into his mind. He remembered the last time he had ridden through the pines. He still could remember only bits and pieces of the morning he shot Red Twilight. It was like an especially complicated dream, with images that had been run through a sieve. He could feel the blood on his hands, see Red Twilight\u2019s smiling face, but after that the vision fractured, and he could barely make sense of it.<\/p>\n Joe forced his breathing to steady and hoped his thoughts would sort themselves out as well. He tried to smooth his wild hair under his hat and straighten out the folds of his coat. He was hardly presentable, and he wondered if he was already too ruined to stand before his father one last time.<\/p>\n In his mind, he rehearsed his apology. It was always the same. Nothing came to mind that could justify what he had done. He tried to find a way to say it that his father would understand, some way to ask for forgiveness for transgressions that couldn\u2019t be forgiven. During the whole of the long ride, he searched for eloquence and never found it. Instead the same simple words rose up again and again in his mind.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Pa. Thank you for being my father. I\u2019m sorry I let you down.\u201d<\/p>\n It wasn\u2019t much, but it was all he had. Usually, when Joe felt troubled, he tried to think ahead to the future, to the plans and the dreams he set store by. He would imagine a pretty girl he would meet someday and marry, a house built by a creek in the center of a flowered valley. Children running wild through fields and forests, just like he had done when he was young. He\u2019d spend his evenings teaching his own children what his father had tried to teach him. But now his future held nothing but regrets. Joe\u2019s hope lay in seeking forgiveness and then stepping forward to make right what he\u2019d done.<\/p>\n At the end of his journey, he waited on the crest of the hill that led to the house. He couldn\u2019t be any closer, without being in sight of the house. All his reservations seemed to sift away, like chaff in the wind. He didn\u2019t know what was in store. He just wanted to be home again.<\/p>\n Joe flicked the reins and started to ride forward. As he did, an apparition seemed to come roaring out of the landscape at him with such force Joe almost fell out of the saddle. As it was, he only stayed sitting by holding onto the neck of his horse. He didn\u2019t trust his eyes; they were aching from the journey and the brightness of the snow, and he didn\u2019t think they were working right. He rubbed at them roughly to be certain. The apparition was yelling and hollering and raising such a ruckus that Joe couldn\u2019t hardly believe could come from a spirit. The size and the voice and the hat were all like he remembered. They tricked through his disordered mind and teased it into believing this ghost was real. Joe slid down from his horse, his legs feeling boneless and wobbly like a newborn colt. He heard his name being shouted, but he could hardly make sense of it.<\/p>\n When Hoss reached for him, Joe stuck his hand out first, almost expecting it to pass through vapors. He almost expected Hoss\u2019 body to turn into flickering fog and wishful thinking. But his hand reached out and bumped into a shoulder that felt all too real. Like a man groping in the dark, Joe couldn\u2019t stop himself, touching and feeling for muscle and joints and skin.<\/p>\n Then Hoss was yelling and throwing his hat off his head and lifting Joe and swinging him around, until Joe\u2019s hat flew into the air. So strong. Joe had forgotten that Hoss was so strong. He was the only man Joe knew who could lift him like it was nothing. They stood in the road taking each other in. Joe couldn\u2019t trust himself to speak. He would gladly turn himself in to Sheriff Coffee. His brother was alive, and he\u2019d been given the chance to see him. It was so much more than he had allowed himself to hope for, certainly more than he\u2019d ever deserved.<\/p>\n Finally, he got the words out. They did not come easily.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re alive,\u201d Joe said, barely trusting his voice to assert itself. \u201cHoss, I was sure you were dead.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss laughed and cuffed him on the arm. \u201cNah. It takes more than a little ol\u2019 bullet to kill me. Besides, I couldn\u2019t die with you gone who knows where, scaring everybody to death.\u201d<\/p>\n His voice grew suddenly serious and he asked, \u201cWhy\u2019d you go, Little Joe? We\u2019ve been awfully worried.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe had started to open his mouth to answer, when a shout and a flurry of commotion rose up behind him. He had just turned around, when he was pulled almost off his feet into familiar, strong arms. And his father was hugging the breath out him, holding him like he couldn\u2019t get close enough to believe his son was alive. Joe knew enough about ghosts to reassure his father.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s me, Pa,\u201d he mumbled, inhaling the familiar blend of leather and pipe tobacco that always accompanied his father. He didn\u2019t want to pull away, but he needed to meet his pa\u2019s eyes. \u201cI came back. I made it home.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe looked and through his own tears, it almost looked like his father was crying. Ben Cartwright never cried. Joe wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and looked again. He tried to bring the world back into focus.<\/p>\n \u201cThank God,\u201d Ben was saying. \u201cThank you God. Thank God.\u201d<\/p>\n Then he held his youngest son at arm\u2019s length, keeping a hand anchored on his shoulder, as if he needed to keep touching Joe to ensure he wouldn\u2019t disappear again.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s get a look at you,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Joe knew what his father was seeing. He knew his unkempt hair curled over his collar, he had a week\u2019s growth unshaved from his chin, and he knew that he looked too thin for a father\u2019s critical eye. Yet the real changes that had taken place over the past several months couldn\u2019t be seen so easily. His father couldn\u2019t see the muscles that had developed from putting in long days at the ranch. His youngest son was growing into his man\u2019s body at last. His father couldn\u2019t see the stillness that had settled within him, the result of months spent living quietly on his own. But most of all, his father couldn\u2019t know that he had changed inside, that the anger inside him still lived, but he had learned to live with it. He would no longer cover himself with violence. He had learned to live up to his name.<\/p>\n Joe covered his pa\u2019s hand with his own.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m fine, Pa,\u201d he said. \u201cJust fine.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben cleared his throat. \u201cYou must be tired. Let\u2019s get you into the house.\u201d<\/p>\n He started to pull Joe along with him, but Joe grabbed his arm and held it.<\/p>\n \u201cNo Pa,\u201d he said. \u201cI can\u2019t go back with you. I can\u2019t go into the house. I just came back to\u2026 to tell you I was sorry\u2026 to ask for forgiveness. Oh Pa, I\u2019m so sorry. I just came back to say goodbye. I\u2019m going to turn myself in to Sheriff Coffee.\u201d<\/p>\n And Joe was crying all over again. He could remain standing only because his father had taken hold of his shoulders and then the sides of his face. Gently, Ben lifted his son\u2019s face until he had no choice but to meet his eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cSon,\u201d Ben said. \u201cLittle Joe. Won\u2019t you tell me what it is you think you\u2019ve done?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPa, I killed a man,\u201d Joe whispered and tried to stop crying. Struggled to confess like the man he was trying to be. \u201cI went after Willie Twilight\u2019s brother, and I killed him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoseph, listen to me. I need you to stop crying and listen. Can you do that, boy?\u201d Ben\u2019s voice was soft but firm, and Joe had no choice but to defer to it. He had forgotten how much he missed his father\u2019s authority. It made sense out of the world, made it seem like things could never really fall apart.<\/p>\n Joe nodded and said, \u201cI\u2019ll try, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben kept one hand cupped against Joe\u2019s face and tucked back his son\u2019s curls with the other. \u201cNow Joseph, I don\u2019t know what it is that you\u2019re thinking or why you went away. I don\u2019t know where you\u2019ve been. We can talk about that later. Let\u2019s get right to the heart of it. You did kill Red Twilight. But you killed him in self-defense. Willie\u2019s friend Mary was there when it happened. She told us the whole thing. You were protecting her, son. Willie drew first. You had no choice but to shoot him.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe stared into his pa\u2019s eyes, his chest throbbing, wanting desperately to believe what he said. It seemed too wonderful to be true, and yet Ben Cartwright had never lied to him. He looked from his father back to Hoss, and it was too much to take in. His mind couldn\u2019t make its peace with it. It was as though he had passed from death to life, in the blink of an eye.<\/p>\n Finally Joe told them, \u201cI couldn\u2019t remember what happened. I woke up, and I was bleeding, and I found his body. I couldn\u2019t remember anything, except that I\u2019d gone looking for him that night.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou went looking for him to kill him.\u201d<\/p>\n The voice surprised him, but it wasn\u2019t unexpected. Joe turned, and there was Adam. He had walked down the road, stealthy as a cat, and was watching the scene unfolding with a wariness that Joe recognized right away. Adam\u2019s comment wasn\u2019t a question, but Joe chose to answer it that way. He could see the accusation bright in his oldest brother\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d he said. \u201cI went looking for Red Twilight to kill him.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe stared evenly at his family. He figured each of them must have known it, but hearing it put plain like that was a hard kind of truth. It wouldn\u2019t go down easy. They all looked older and wearier than he had remembered. His sojourn had cost his family dearly, in ways he couldn\u2019t begin to understand.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd then you ran?\u201d Adam continued. \u201cYou thought you murdered a man and you ran away? You ran without telling us where you were going?\u201d<\/p>\n Joe didn\u2019t shirk from his testimony. It was hard to admit what he had done, but it needed to be said. It was never too late to make a wrong right again.<\/p>\n \u201cI ran. I knew it would hurt you, but I ran anyways. I thought it would save Pa from\u2026 from a trial and what would come from it\u2026. The truth is I just couldn\u2019t face you cause of what I\u2019d done. I can\u2019t blame you if you can\u2019t forgive me. I don\u2019t deserve it. I needed to come home to tell you what I\u2019d done. To say I was sorry. I just wanted to see all of you, one more time.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe stood back away from them and waited. He didn\u2019t know exactly what was being decided, just that it was his family\u2019s decision to make.<\/p>\n Finally his father stepped forward and rested his hand on the back of Joe\u2019s neck.<\/p>\n \u201cSon, it takes a special sort of man to admit he was wrong. It took a lot of courage to come back here and confess to it, knowing what it could cost you.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss leaned forward and cuffed Joe on the arm. Joe noted that his brother\u2019s eyes were watering, like he\u2019d been staring at the snow too long. \u201cBesides, we couldn\u2019t let you go to jail looking like that. You\u2019re nothing but skin and bones. There wouldn\u2019t be enough of you left to hang.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe smiled at Hoss, still hardly believing that he was alive, and then he turned to look at Adam. His brother still stood at a distance, his arms folded tightly against his chest. Joe understood then how badly Adam had been hurt by the events that Joe had set in place. He couldn\u2019t imagine how he would ever begin to atone for the pain he had caused his family.<\/p>\n At last Adam smiled. It wasn\u2019t much of a smile, just a slight quirk of his lips, but Joe latched on to it gratefully and met his brother\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n Adam said, \u201cWell, as always, you have impeccable timing. Hop Sing just sent me to say dinner was ready. The way I hear it, he\u2019s preparing the fatted calf as we speak.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe wrinkled his forehead in confusion, before a smile spread slowly across his face. The memory of the old Biblical story of the prodigal son and his father came back to him then, and he grinned at his brother with rueful understanding. Adam leaned forward and ruffled his prodigal brother\u2019s hair.<\/p>\n \u201cHop Sing says to come home right now. He says dinner\u2019s getting cold.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam smiled, easier this time, and took the reins of Joe\u2019s horse to lead him back to the barn. Joe looked at his oldest brother\u2019s back before he disappeared over the hill and then at his pa and Hoss. It wasn\u2019t over. What he had squandered wouldn\u2019t be restored that easily. But he was forgiven and he was home. The rest would fall into place, given enough time. That\u2019s how it was with a family like theirs. Everything they had belonged to each other, including forgiveness.<\/p>\n \u201cCome on Joseph,\u201d Ben said, placing his hand on Joe\u2019s back. \u201cHoss is right. You don\u2019t look like you\u2019ve eaten in a week. Let\u2019s go have that dinner. Everything else will wait.\u201d<\/p>\n As they crested the hill, Hoss slung an arm over Joe\u2019s shoulders and said, \u201cLittle brother, you missed a mighty long winter. When all this snow melts, you and me are gonna go and do some fishing. I hear the trout are so big and dumb this year you could just pull them out of the water\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n For a wistful moment, Joe remembered the last time he heard that sort of claim. Then he pulled himself away from it, laughed, and replied, \u201cThe way I hear it older brother, there ain\u2019t nothing that makes a fish bigger than almost getting caught.\u201d<\/p>\n They were still laughing at each other, as they disappeared over the hill and down the road that led to home.<\/p>\n The End<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n Summary:\u00a0“WHI” for “Vengeance”. What if Adam did not stop Joe from killing Red Twilight? Joe’s quest for vengeance has devastating consequences for his family. \u00a0<\/p>\n Rated:\u00a0K+ \u00a0WC 21,000<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":49,"featured_media":378,"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_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_members_access_role":[],"_members_access_error":""},"categories":[23,27],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-998","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","category-whi","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-27-id"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/bonanza-1.jpg?fit=193%2C140&ssl=1","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/998","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/49"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=998"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/998\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/378"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=998"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=998"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=998"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/strong>
\n*A \u201cWhat Happened Instead\u201d story for the episode \u201cVengeance\u201d.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nPerhaps he should have been more severe with Joe. He remembered that after Marie\u2019s death, the scolds in Virginia City whispered that Ben Cartwright was letting his youngest son run wild. Over the years, Adam had said the same thing, but at least he had the decency to say it to his face. He supposed they were all right in a way, and yet Ben still didn\u2019t know if he\u2019d do it differently, even with what he knew now.<\/p>\n
\nHoss stood next to the woodpile, his axe poised to strike a piece of kindling, when he heard the geese flying overhead. He lowered the axe to the ground and watched in amazement, as they flew low over the house. With a single-minded sense of purpose, their calls rang through the air. They flew so low he could hear their wings flapping like a windstorm in the forest. With breathtaking speed, they angled in formation, and dove down past the tree line and out of sight. Hoss knew they were heading back to the lake, but it made no sense. The snow still sloshed brown and grey on the ground. It was too early to call it spring. He had never known the flock to return so early. He crinkled his nose and shrugged. It was time to give his attention to the task at hand.<\/p>\n