The Farm #1

~Taken ~

by jfclover

Springtime made its mark. Tiny blossoms rose up from the earth so rich and fertile that I figured God must be smiling at his creation. I took pride in my home, and I cared for the land as if it were one of my sons. I couldn’t say whether Adam or Little Joe felt as closely tied as I did, but Hoss came alive in the spring. He cherished the land he called home above anything else.

Hoss and I had been on our own for nearly a week. With his brothers away, I helped with the morning and evening chores, which according to Hoss wasn’t necessary, but I enjoyed the one-on-one time with my middle boy. It’s not often a man gets to dote on one son without interruptions from one or more of the others.

Adam took his young brother with him to look at breeding stock, a peace offering of sorts after a row the two had over Joseph continuing his education. It wasn’t a new conversation. We’d discussed the pros and cons before and both boys were adamant.

Adam thought Joe was college material and, of course, Little Joe had different plans for his future. Nothing new there. The two often clashed although this time tempers flared and words were said in anger. Words that couldn’t be dismissed led to hard feelings on both sides. The damage seemed irreversible until Adam proposed the trip to Placerville. Just the two of them and Joseph was ecstatic, and in confidence, I praised my eldest son for his act of kindness. The last thing Adam might do on a whim was to take his fourteen-year-old brother on a horse-buying trip, but he had. And, just like that, the two quarreling siblings were friends once again. Even though the trip was a week away, Joe began packing that first night. His eyes shone with such gratitude that I didn’t dare mention the fact that I hadn’t been asked whether I was for or against my youngest son leaving the ranch without his father along. I’ll admit, I wasn’t keen on the idea, but Adam was the most responsible man I knew, and carrying on like an old mother hen would’ve put us all at odds. I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted my quarreling sons to work out their differences without the old man standing in their way.

Hoss and I made a good team. There were times of complete silence, and others when Hoss became philosophical and our discussions took precedence over mucking or straightening tack. Our days together had been enjoyable until a young man rode into the yard and handed me a telegram from Adam.

“`

Ben Cartwright: Ponderosa Ranch, NV.

Come immediately.

Joe missing.

Adam.

“`

I read the straightforward message three times before I looked up at Hoss. After handing the young rider a coin, he asked if I needed to send a return wire. I said yes, ran inside, and scribbled out a short message.

“`

Adam Cartwright: Placerville, CA.

On our way.

Pa.

“`

Hoss and I rode as fast as we dared without injuring our mounts. Still, it was a two-day trip and we made camp just over the halfway mark. I doubt either of us got much sleep that night and without taking time for breakfast, we rode out before daybreak. Placerville wasn’t much of a town and Adam wouldn’t be hard to find, but my mind buzzed with questions he failed to answer in the wire.

Joe missing. How? Why? What went wrong? How do you lose a fourteen-year-old boy who would’ve been as excited as Adam overseeing new stock? Even at a young age, Joe had commented on every mount we owned and every new horse we brought to the ranch.

“He’ll be a fine one,” he’d say. “A good cutting horse or a good riding horse,” and Joe’s opinions began to matter not long after he turned ten. He had a good eye, which was a valuable asset on a ranch like ours. But what was I to think? Adam wasn’t one to jump the gun. How long had he looked for his brother, and how much had it pained him to send that wire?

“Just ahead, Pa.”

I’ve never been so glad to see the few small structures of Placerville, as I was that afternoon. Weary and saddle sore became the least of my worries. We needed to find Adam, and as we rode down the dusty main street, my eldest stood in front of the sheriff’s office. He stepped forward and waved his hat as soon as he spotted us riding in. Hoss and I dismounted, and I tried to conceal my fears as I tied Buck to the rail.

“Son ….”

Adam shook my hand although he didn’t respond. He looked up at Hoss and then back at me. “Come inside.” We entered the office and were greeted by a tall, thin man wearing a tin badge. He stood from his chair behind the desk.  “Homer Kerrigan.”

The sheriff pointed to a mop of red curls. “Most people just call me Red. You must be the Cartwrights.”

“Ben Cartwright.” I extended my hand. “This is my son, Hoss. Any word on Joseph?”

“No, sir. Not yet.”

I turned to Adam for answers. “Sit down, Pa. I’ll try to explain.”

His story was short and simple. Joe had excused himself from the horse corral and ran into the back of Luke Havens’ main house to use the facilities and was never seen again. The look on my face prompted Adam to keep talking though there wasn’t much else to say. The boy was there one minute and gone the next. “I looked everywhere, Pa. Joe’s horse is still stabled. His saddlebags are still at the hotel.”

“Kidnapped?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“Sheriff?”

“Your son and I have checked every building and merchant in town and a good deal of the outlying area, but as you can see, we haven’t had much luck.”

“Who’d want to take Joseph? None of this makes sense.”

My look of disbelief gave Adam reason to change the subject, and he stepped closer to Hoss and me. “I reserved a suite at the hotel. I’m sure you rode hard and fast so let’s get settled and have a good, hot meal.”

Hoss’s arm swept across my shoulder. “I could use a bite, Pa. We ain’t no good to anyone without something in our bellies.”

My stomach knotted at the thought of food, but I couldn’t deprive my sons. I would keep my despair at bay and pray that Adam knew more than he told in front of the lawman. “You’re right. Where’s the best place to eat, Sheriff?”

“The Lost Wages Saloon. Got the best steaks in town.”

Red seemed like a nice enough fella. He knew all the local haunts and surrounding area, and it seemed like he’d done his best to help Adam, but this business of young men vanishing in broad daylight didn’t sit well when gold-seeking transients made up so much of the population. There’d been talk of young men and women chained and held as slaves in the mines. Could something that despicable happen to one of my sons? My heart skipped a beat.

My sons and I crossed the street to the saloon. I’d taught my boys to care for their horses first, but our mounts would have to wait. I needed to sit with Adam and find out more. What was Joe’s state of mind? Had they argued? Was there any reason the boy would run off? After our meals were ordered, I expressed my concerns, but his answer didn’t confirm my suspicions

“Not at all, Pa. I’ve never seen Joe so happy and relaxed. He was all over the new stock, checking every inch of every horse from head to hoof. Just like a pro. Luke Havens was genuinely impressed with Joe’s sense of good stock. The two of us stood back and watched the kid work.”

“And then he disappeared.”

Adam’s voice was faint, but his words were clear. “I’m sorry, Pa.”

For a man who kept his emotions in check, Adam had a hard time doing so. His glassy eyes told volumes, and I feared as much for him as I did my lost son. A boy didn’t just disappear. There had to be a logical explanation, and I needed my most logical son to stay grounded, but he seemed to be drifting. I’d raised strong sons, and I needed their strength more than ever.

I reached for Adam’s shoulder. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not blaming you. I’m just trying to understand.”

For three long days, we searched abandoned mines, caves, every ranch, and small settlement within a twenty-mile radius of Placerville and found nothing. No sign of Joe and no one who’d seen a boy wandering the countryside alone. At one of the larger ranches, it looked like an entire classroom of boys about Joe’s age working the fields. It seemed odd at the time to see so many children so close in age, but they were all towheads and obviously brothers—Swedish or Norwegian maybe—and we moved on.

The sheriff—Red—stayed in town asking more questions of the locals, but his luck ran as short as ours. No one had seen anything. No one had even noticed Joe and Adam ride into town except the liveryman who’d stabled their mounts.

“Boy about so high,” he said, holding his hand shoulder height. “Nice kid but didn’t give me credit for knowing my trade. Went on and on about his pony,” he chuckled, “like I’d never cared for an animal before. Kinda got a kick out of a kid that young knowing the horse business so well.”

We thanked the man for stabling our mounts and headed down to The Lost Wages for another good steak. As excited as Joe would become over the mention of a fine horse, Hoss generally looked forward to a good meal but not this time. All the talk about Joe and his horse prowess gave us all a sense of dread as we moved silently toward the saloon. No words could describe how my sons and I felt after three days in the saddle and with nothing to show for our efforts.

“What do we do now, Pa?”

“I wish I knew, Son.”

“We going home?”

I looked up when the bartender approached. “What can I get for you fellas?”

“Four steaks.  All the fixin’s.”

“Four?”

“Oh … I’m sorry. Three. I meant three.”

I dropped my head in my hands. Our lives had changed in an instant. We were a family of four. Four steaks. Four places at the table. Four bedrooms. Four of everything. Hoss asked if we were going home, and I had no answer. How could we ride away and leave Joseph behind? Was that even an option?

“Pa? You okay?”

I looked up and gave Hoss a half-smile. “What would you have me do?”

“I don’t rightly know. Adam? What do you think?”

My eldest had become a follower rather than a leader, with no suggestions or alternative actions during the three days we searched for Joseph. His silence had become more disturbing than I cared to admit and if anyone could bring life back to a broken man, it was Hoss. But Adam only shook his head. He had no answers to give.

With my steak only half-eaten, I wiped my mouth and pushed my plate toward Hoss. “You boys stay here. I need one more word with Red before we leave.”

I slid my chair back and left the saloon. Letting my eyes scan the boardwalks of a town that held no answers, I could picture a wild-haired young man excited to accompany his older sibling on the horse-buying trip. I could almost hear the chatter and see his quick step as he tagged alongside his long-legged brother. Not only had he impressed Luke Havens, but the liveryman who remembered the bright youngster who knew everything there was about horses.

With his hands on his hips, Red stood outside the jailhouse and stretched out his back from too many hours behind a desk. He tipped his hat as I approached. “Sure wish I had good news, Mr. Cartwright.”

“I wish you did too.”

“What now?”

“We don’t have much choice, do we?”

“Sir?”

“I have a ranch to run and two other sons to care for.”

“Oh, of course.”

I pulled my hat lower on my forehead. “This isn’t over, Sheriff.”

“I don’t expect it is, Mr. Cartwright, and I’ll do what I can from this end. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”

“I appreciate that.” I pulled a ten-spot from my wallet and handed it to Red. “A little telegraph money. Keep me informed of anything, no matter how insignificant you think it might be.”

“I will, Sir. You have my word.”

*

Chapter 2

Over the next few weeks, months, and eventually years, one or more of us would travel to Placerville and make the rounds. Shop owners and nearby ranchers had come to know the Cartwrights, and we added something new to our list. Since we had no way of knowing if Joe was dead or alive, we checked for freshly dug graves in the local cemetery but so far, there’d been no body to bury, no remnant or reminder of our Little Joe.

I mailed posters within a hundred-mile radius. Using a likeness of Joseph drawn by a newspaperman in Carson City along with a handsome reward, my efforts brought renewed hope and telegrams from Red. Someone had seen the boy, and we raced across rough terrain to look for ourselves. Foolish whims but we had nothing else. Eventually, wires quit coming, and the posters denigrated into trash thrown onto city streets. There was nothing more to do but ask the Lord why, and I did. Many times over.

Life never stays the same. The ranch grew over the years, as had my two remaining sons. Hoss had just turned twenty when we lost Joe, and tonight we would celebrate his twenty-third birthday. Hoping I could bring an evening of cheer was tough. Memories of better days often dampened our celebrations. Without the happy-go-lucky boy who’d made our family whole, we were at a loss.

The boys and I were seated when Hop Sing brought platter after platter of Hoss’ favorites to the table. As far as our cook was concerned, this was #2 son’s special day, and he’d worked since sunup to make the party a success. No one could deny who was Hop Sing’s favorite when it came to setting a table fit for a king, but our little cook had never accepted Joe’s death. The sadness in all our eyes never quite went away.

“Boy still alive,” he would say. “Boy come home when able.”

Tonight, though, it was all about Hoss and a dining experience next to none. Platters were passed and plates were filled. Laughter came slowly but we managed enough lighthearted banter that I felt the night proved worthy. After the candlelit cake had been cleared from the table, I handed Hoss a gift I bought months ago. As he pulled on the knotted twine, a vigorous knock sounded at the front door.

“You know something I don’t, Pa?”

“I’m sorry, Son, but your guess is as good as mine.”

Before Hoss had crossed the room, Roy Coffee—our newly elected sheriff—burst through the front door. “Ben. Ben Cartwright.”

Adam and I pushed to our feet, and I steadied the shoulders of the wild-eyed sheriff. “What in the world?  I take it this isn’t a social call.” The town sheriff, still breathless from a hard ride, shoved an envelope in my hand. “What’s this?”

“Just read it, Ben.”

I hadn’t known the sheriff long, but he’d made a good impression on the town, and I respected him. If he rode all the way out on a Saturday night, he thought the wire was urgent. I ripped the missive open and read lines that would change our lives forever.

“`

Ben Cartwright, Ponderosa Ranch

Come at once.

Joseph is alive.

Sheriff “Red” Kerrigan.

“`

“Pa?” Hoss grabbed my arm. “What is it, Pa? You’re white as a ghost.” I handed him the wire. “He’s alive?”

“What?” Adam snatched the thin paper from Hoss’s hand. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Ain’t had time to check for details. Wire just come in tonight. I thought you’d want to know.”

“I … I better sit down.”

“Come on, Pa.” Hoss led me to the closest seat, Adam’s chair at the table, and before I could grasp the concept in full, Hop Sing pushed a glass of brandy into my hand.

“You drink. You bring Little Joe back home.”

Adam knelt down in front of me. “We’ll ride at first light.”

I couldn’t get my thoughts straight. I acknowledged his words and threw out an answer that would satisfy me. “Yes. First light.” How I’d longed to hear those words.

“Joseph is alive.” But now that I had, my heart raced with anticipation, and an overwhelming sense of dread. “Where? Where had he been and why now?”

Hoss knelt down next to Adam. “It doesn’t matter none, Pa. Little Joe’s alive.”

Before I could gather my thoughts, Adam voiced my concerns. “It matters a great deal, Hoss.”

Realizing Roy Coffee still stood by the door, I pulled myself together and crossed the room. “I’m a little taken aback but I appreciate you riding out. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Just doing my job, Ben.”

“Yes, well, I’d consider this over and above, but I’ll thank you again. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“That’s why I come. Knew you’d want to head out as soon as possible.”

As Roy closed the front door behind him, I turned to my sons. “Joseph is alive.” Though I spoke the words aloud, I was too overwhelmed to say more. Nearly three years had passed. Could it really be true?

“Best birthday present I ever got, Pa.”

I smiled and moved toward Hoss. “All our birthdays rolled into one.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Let’s get to bed. We’ll make an early start in the morning.”

The two-day ride was grueling. None of us slept the night before, and we didn’t sleep much when we settled in for the night on the trail. When we tied our mounts in front of Red’s jailhouse, we were near exhaustion, but adrenalin kept us moving forward. The sheriff must have heard our horses galloping down the main street. He stepped outside his office to greet us.

“Wasn’t expecting you so soon. You made good time.”

I reached out and shook Red’s hand. “Where’s my boy?”

“It’s quite a story, Mr. Cartwright. Come inside, and I’ll fill you in on what I know so far.”

As we entered Red’s office, that urgent sense of dread returned, and I tamped it down to a minimum. Joe had been found. Joe was alive. I’d repeated those thoughts for two days now. I should be happy, but I was afraid of what I might hear.

“Coffee? Just made a fresh pot.”

“Please,” I said, and my sons each nodded their heads. I took the chair in front of Red’s desk and my boys stood on either side. “What’s this all about, Sheriff?”

After sitting behind his desk, he held his tin cup with both hands. “Avery Jenkins, one of the locals, spotted your boy and five others about the same age walking down the road to town three days ago. Realizing he’d seen them before, he pulled his wagon to a stop and offered up a ride.”

“Seen them before? I don’t understand.”

Red raised his hand to shut me up. “A man named Carl Johansson had a farm just west of here.”

“Johansson. Yes,” I said. “I know the name. My sons and I talked to him on several occasions.”

“He leased the place that housed all them white-haired boys. For the last four years, they took young men right off the street and hauled them out to the farm.”

“How could this happen and no one be aware?”

“From what I can gather so far, Johansson had enlisted in the army over ten years ago. He weren’t a fighting man though; he did experiments. The housekeeper called him a research scientist.”

“These experiments …”

“I’m getting to that, but that’s where it gets tricky. Doc Hershey has been with the boys since they were brought here to town, but all the young men seem hesitant to talk. Mostly, they huddle together in a group and won’t answer questions. Doc says it’s something akin to being captured by the enemy; you know, a prisoner of war.”

“You mean my boy lived on that ranch for three years, and no one figured things out until now?’

“As far as anyone knew, them boys were his sons. No one, including me, had reason to question him or his wife.”

I thought back to the group of boys I’d seen plowing and working the fields. The first thing that came to mind was their striking-white hair. “There’s one thing you haven’t considered, Sheriff.”

“What’s that?”

“Joseph has dark hair. All the boys we saw were blonde.”

“Yep. You have a point. What I ain’t had time to tell you is that Johansson wasn’t stupid. He dyed their hair white, and he dressed them all in the same kind of clothes. You gotta admit one thing, Mr. Cartwright. He made them boys unrecognizable to anyone who passed by.

I stood from my chair. “I want to see my son.”

“Can’t let you do that.”

My blood boiled. “We’ll see about that.”

Red stood up too. “Doc asked to see you first. We can do that here or over to the hotel or saloon. You wanna get settled in first?”

I sighed heavily. “We’ll stable our mounts and go to our room. I expect to see you and the doctor no later than a half hour from now at the hotel.”

“We’ll be there.”

I tried not to storm out of the office although that’s the impression I gave. My boy was somewhere in Placerville and I wasn’t allowed to see him. The wire indicated Joseph would be waiting for us to arrive. Now, I didn’t know what to think.

“Will you two stable the horses while I check in?”

“Yessir.”

As I reached for my saddlebags, exhaustion claimed me, and I leaned heavily against Buck. Held captive for three years. I could barely comprehend, but how was the army involved?

When the two men arrived, Red introduced me to Ezra Hershey, the town doctor. I shook the man’s hand and offered him a seat at a small, round table at the end of our suite. Adam and Hoss entered the room shortly after and remained standing.

“What’s this all about, Doctor? Why can’t I see my boy?”

“It’s complicated, Mr. Cartwright.”

Some would call me an ungracious host. I had no refreshments to offer the men until Adam pulled a bottle of whiskey from his saddlebag. He grabbed glasses from a nearby shelf and set them on the table. I poured.

“Your son was kept on the farm with five other boys approximately the same age. Their hair was dyed blonde and their original clothing was exchanged for a uniform as such, a white shirt, black pants, and suspenders.

They all looked the same from a distance and no one ever suspected they were anything but Johansson’s own boys. In fact, he was envied by many for having so many near-grown sons helping him work the farm.”

“So they were taken because the man needed slave labor?”

“Not exactly although they worked the farm as part of the experiment.”

Experiment. There was that word again but what did it mean? “What’s this all about, Doctor?”

“As far as I can tell, Johansson ran endurance tests that revolved around life’s necessities such as a fair amount of food and a fair amount of sleep; in other words, he gaged the boy’s endurance when they were starved and/or sleep deprived. We got that much out of his housekeeper, but after Johansson died unexpectedly from a seizure, she seemed willing to talk.

“The experiments were staggered in precise rotations. Three boys would go without food or sleep for a three-day period. They were only given water, but they were still forced to work the farm. They each had a counterpart— a boy similar in height and weight—who was given normal rations and a decent amount of sleep. Three boys on and three off you might

say. Food and sleep were reintroduced to the starving boys. Sometimes a full meal. Sometimes a crust of bread or hardtack. The results of the tests were recorded and then analyzed by an army doctor who visited the farm regularly.

“It’s a basic test of endurance, Mr. Cartwright. How long could a man—a would-be soldier—remain on his feet and do the work without sleep or provisions? How long could he continue fighting if rations were cut off or they’d become overly fatigued when engaged in battle?”

“But Joseph is only a boy.”

“In your eyes, he’s a boy, but for the army, he’s only a year or so shy of volunteering for active duty, and that’s why the tests are run on youngsters his age. Are they resilient enough to bounce back after certain hardships? How much stress can a man take before he collapses or gives up the fight? Five out of eight boys proved they were worthy of battle. Three of the eight young men didn’t survive the experiments and are buried in unmarked graves on the farm. Joseph is one of the lucky ones.

“That’s all I know so far, Mr. Cartwright. The boys refuse to talk, which tells me they were taught to keep silent if captured. Severe tactics are often used by the enemy to gain information. Perhaps beatings. Perhaps other forms of punishment and at this point, we’re seen as the enemy. No matter how cruelly they were treated, they’ve remained loyal to Johansson. It might sound harsh and it might sound unbelievable, but the boys counted on him for everything, and they followed his commands like any young private would obey his commanding officer.”

“Not Joseph. I’m sorry, Doctor, but I can’t believe Joe would rather live with a man and woman who mistreated him than with his brothers and me.”

“Let me continue then.” I stood from my chair. “I’ve heard enough. Please take me to my son.”

“Pa.” Adam stepped forward. “Let the doctor

finish.”

My eyes narrowed. Adam had no right.

“Just let me say this.” The doctor stood and matched my prolonged stare. “What I haven’t mentioned is how the boys were praised for their mastery of prolonged hardships. Like a father would praise his son for good grades or clever ingenuity when completing a difficult task.

“You have to understand that during the first few weeks of captivity, these boys were conditioned to believe that their new surroundings were the only home they’d ever known. Mind games, Mr. Cartwright. Memories they thought were valid were replaced with lies and deception of what they thought was true. Their past soon became a mythical dream, and memories of a previous life  vanished forever.”

“I think you’re wrong about Joseph but until I see for myself, I won’t know for sure, will I?”

The meeting wouldn’t take place until morning. Somehow, the doctor convinced me the five young men needed their sleep and that Joe might be more receptive during daylight hours. I conceded to his wishes. Tomorrow at nine o’clock at the Widow Brockton’s boarding house located on 4th and Main, I’d finally be reunited with my son.

“I’ll be there,” I’d said.

After a quiet dinner, the boys and I went back to the suite I thought the four of us would occupy that night. We’d ridden hard to Placerville and been bogged down by the Doctor’s one-sided conversation. I knew my son, and Joseph would never turn against his brothers and me. We were his family, not some man and woman pretending to be loving parents while they tortured and stripped my son of his dignity.

“It just don’t seem possible, Pa.”

“What’s that, Son?”

“All that doctor said about them boys. Little Joe’s a smart kid. He’d never accept another family as his own, would he?”

“It’s called conditioning,” Adam said before I could answer.

“I still don’t get it.”

“It’s not much different than breaking a horse. Eventually, the horse gives in. He’s gentled to the point that he’ll let a man strap on a heavy saddle and climb on his back. It’s not the life he was born to, but it’s the life he’s been made to endure.”

“You’re comparing Joe to a horse?”

“Okay, try this. A slave owner conditions healthy men and women to work for him without pay or a chance at freedom. As time passes, the slave becomes accustomed to his new life. His choices become evident. Work for the landowner or die trying to escape.”

Hoss looked to me for a different scenario although I was beginning to realize the difficulty of the situation after Adam explained his theory of conditioning. The doctor had offered information, but Adam had brought it home.

*

Chapter 3

The following morning, my sons were dressed and anxious to see their brother, but I asked that they stay behind. “I’ve thought this over, and maybe I should see Joseph alone. If everything the doctor said is true, I don’t want Joe overwhelmed by a bunch of strangers staring at him. And, if all goes well, I’ll bring Joseph back to the hotel, and we can all visit without interruption. Do you understand my thinking? Will you stay here till I get back?”

“If that’s what you want,” Adam said. And though his face was etched with sadness, Hoss would do as I asked without question. I pressed my hat firmly on my head but left my gun belt behind. When I heard movement behind me, I turned to find Hoss standing behind me. “Remember one thing, Pa. Just ‘cause a horse is broke don’t mean he’s lost his spirit.”

“I’ll remember that, Son.” No one could put life into perspective as well as my middle boy. He had a worldly sense about him that he might not share often but when he did, he was right on the mark.

During my walk to the boarding house, I fought back the urge to grab Joseph and run. Maybe that was a father’s instinct. Maybe it was fear of the unknown. Even though butterflies ripped through me, I kept my pace steady and focused on seeing my boy after three long years. How would he look? How much had he grown?

No longer a child who begged to be freed from the confines of a classroom had he stepped into a world he never knew existed. I’d been in the dark when it came to the United States Army. How could they justify their actions to families of the children they snatched off the street and put in labor camps where sustenance and God knows what else was taken away. How long had this been going on? These boys weren’t the first to endure such trauma.

There had to be more. I’d read horror stories of needless surgeries performed on unsuspecting slaves in the southern states. Without their consent, of course, doctors often used men and women as pawns under the guise of scientific research. Each act of brutality made my stomach turn, but it wasn’t that far removed from the army taking innocent young men and putting them through hell. A wooden shingle swung on a post alongside the boardwalk.

Brockton’s Boarding House. This was it. The time and place was now, and I climbed the porch steps. A gray-haired woman answered the door and asked my business.

“I’m Ben Cartwright, Joseph’s father.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. There’s no Joseph here.”

“But the doctor said …”

The old woman strained to look past me, and I turned to find Dr. Hershey heading up the walkway toward the house. With a short wave, he assured the woman of my identity.

“It’s all right, Margaret. Mr. Cartwright had come to see his son.”

The old woman backed away from the door. “My apologies if you will. You see, Mr. Cartwright,” she said in a lilting voice, “I don’t want no more harm coming to these boys. They’ve been through enough, and right under our noses. Dirty, rotten shame it is.”

Mrs. Brockton stepped farther to the right and showed us to her parlor. Crammed into the small space was enough seating for ten or more guests. No clutter and no little knickknacks gave the room a woman’s touch, but it was far from bare. It appeared more like an intimate conference room than an old woman’s parlor.

“Take a seat,” the doctor urged, “but I’ll warn you straight away. Joseph might be hesitant to see you.”

“Just bring the boy down.”

“May I offer you a cup of tea while you wait?”

“No thank you, Ma’am. I’m fine.”

Nerves got in the way of enjoying my breakfast, but I drank too much coffee. I woke early, as did my sons, and the wait seemed interminable. Cup after cup I drank and every inch of my body jittered in anticipation. It wasn’t only the coffee, though. I’d waited years for this day to arrive, three. Hellish years without Joseph.

I turned and stared out the front window. Spring flowers bloomed and buds on the trees were just beginning to open. The spring cattle drive was scheduled for a month from today. Our busiest time of the year was upon us, and I wanted Joe to be part of that life but was that even an option? After all, he’d been through, could he switch back to the dynamic boy he’d once been, excited to work with his brothers and eager to show that he could do the job as well as any other man on the ranch?

When the doctor cleared his throat, I turned my head and studied the white-haired boy standing beside him. His curls looked familiar, but it took a minute to register that it really could be Joe under that disguise. My boy was no longer a fourteen-year-old kid. He was seventeen now, and he’d grown a couple of inches though he was smaller in stature than a full-grown man. Thin but muscular. Not an ounce of fat. He stood with his hands to his sides and his eyes straight ahead, as though looking right through me. He didn’t move a muscle.

“Hello, Joseph.”

“Sir.”

Tears welled in my eyes. I wasn’t sure what to think or do. Would I frighten him if I stepped forward? Did he see me as the enemy? “It’s been a long time, Son.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The doctor stood next to Joe and my eyes met his. He gave a curt nod and I moved forward.

“Would you mind if we sat and talked for a while? Would you like that?”

“That’s a fine idea,” said the doctor. “You sit here, Joseph. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me, but you’ll be fine here with Mr. Cartwright.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I moved within a couple of feet of my son. “Mind if I sit beside you?”

There wasn’t an answer, but there wasn’t a protest either, and after Joe sat down, I did the same. “Your brothers, Hoss and Adam, are waiting back at the hotel.” With his eyes, still looking passed me, set on some inanimate object, I found myself rambling. “I’m sure you remember your brother, Adam. He brought you on the horse-buying trip to Placerville. He’s the last person you saw before …

“If that wasn’t a stupid thing to say. “And Hoss. Hoss hasn’t stopped smiling since we heard you were still alive. Would you like to see your brothers? They’re very anxious to see you.”

Again, no answer but Joe’s watery green eyes told me he remembered his life before captivity. What had he been told about his birth family and how did he think about us now? “I assure you, Little Joe” —maybe the nickname Hoss had given him at birth would strike a chord— “your brothers and I mean you no harm.”

Though I wanted to grab Joseph in a bear hug and never let go, I knelt down on one knee instead and reached for his hands. I’d never felt so unsure of myself before. Was it wrong to want to touch him, to hold him in my arms and tell him how much he meant to me and how I’d longed for this day, a momentous day marked with so much happiness, I felt giddy and it wasn’t just the coffee. It was a day of miracles.

Ezra Hershey had been eavesdropping. He leaned against the doorframe behind Joe, and a hearty smile widened his facial features when Joe hadn’t pushed me away. He happily patted the door jamb before leaving us alone once again.

“Would you like to see your brothers?”

Joe nodded and pushed up from his chair. Knowing our meeting could’ve taken a different direction; Joseph’s slight act of enthusiasm overwhelmed me. I stood and called for the doctor.

“Joe would like to visit with his brothers,” I said when Ezra rushed in from the kitchen. His furrowed brow and look of uncertainty took me by surprise.

“Do you think that’s wise?”

“I do.”

“Will you be back?”

“I can’t say.”

“All right. I’m here if you need me.”

I held out my hand. “Thank you for everything, Doctor.”

I followed Joe out the door to the front porch where he held his face toward the sun and breathed in deeply. I wasn’t sure what it meant and I didn’t ask. There would be plenty of time for questions after we got him settled and he was able to speak freely.

“Should we go? The hotel is just down the street on the corner.”

Joe didn’t walk beside me. He followed in step behind and again, I didn’t ask why. Politeness and following orders, and Adam’s word conditioning came back to haunt me. How much army regiment had been instilled in my son?

Whether he’d been beaten into submission, starved, or plagued by sleepless nights, I didn’t have all the answers. All I could do was count my blessings. My boy was alive and well, and we could deal with the consequences of his captivity later.

Hoss and Adam stood outside the hotel. The wait had been hard for them, but they’d done as I asked and stayed put. I could see hope in their eyes but a sense of worry took over as I approached. Not until I stopped and stepped aside did they notice their young brother standing behind me.

Hoss was the first to speak. “Hey, Big Shorty!

It’s good to see you.”

Joe forced a smile. I could tell he was unsure but did his best to please.

“It’s been a long time.” Adam’s deep baritone held sadness. He blamed himself for Joe’s disappearance, and guilt wore at him like a splinter lodged deep under the skin. “It’s good to have you back.”

Joe acknowledged his brothers with a curt nod before dipping his chin to his chest and clasping his hands behind his back. Could he possibly feel inferior? Had his value as a strong but sensitive human being been stripped from him until he was unable to think or do for himself without asking permission?

Did we mean anything to him? Could he even remember how things were before Johansson? We’d missed so many years together. He’d been a child when Adam brought him on the trip—a trip of a lifetime for Joe—so excited by the prospect of helping his big brother pick new stock for the ranch. My elder sons and I returned home empty-handed after Joe’s disappearance. Luke Havens’ fine horses had lost their importance.

“Okay, let’s go upstairs and get comfortable.” 

After unlocking the door to our suite, I let Joseph enter first. “Take it slow,” I whispered to my elder sons. “Give him time to adjust.”

We stood just inside the door and watched as Joe ran his fingertips along the satin spread before clutching the upright at the foot of the bed. He scanned all four walls, each chair and picture, the fireplace, and bedrooms beyond his sight. Even the carpet on the floor where he slid the sole of his boot back and forth appeared to have special meaning. He walked toward the window and looked at the street below. Everything he touched and everything he looked at seemed to pique his interest. He turned and stared at the three of us still standing like intruding spectators by the hotel door.

“Let’s sit down. We have a lot of catching up to do.” Again, Joe hesitated.  “Over here, Son. Any chair you wish.”

When he didn’t move, I crossed the room and gently touched my hand to his back. I guided him to one of the brocade chairs and took the matching one next to him. He seemed fine with me so far, and I didn’t want him overwhelmed or intimidated by his two much larger brothers. Adam and Hoss chose the settee across from us, but silence filled the room until Hoss asked the first question. “You remember Cochise, don’t you, Little Joe? I have been grooming him all this time and Adam rode him some, but he ain’t the same as when you’re there feeding him bits of sugar and carrots from Hop Sing’s garden.”

Joseph smiled, and I wanted to praise Hoss for knowing just what to say to break the ice. The situation felt awkward. The time apart changed us in ways we wouldn’t have noticed had we been together. Adam and Hoss were men and Joseph—the boy—was no longer. At seventeen, he’d come into his own, the cusp of manhood, which made it difficult to move the conversation forward. I’d lost three years of his life. How could I reacquaint myself to the man he’d become?

The boys and I made small talk hoping Joe might join in. We talked about the ranch and about the upcoming drive. How we still hadn’t hired drovers and should get that done as soon as we returned home. Hoss mentioned Hop Sing’s good cooking and how he’d convinced him to man the chuckwagon this year, but nothing seemed to phase Joe. He listened but never added to the conversation.

I decided he’d heard enough of our ramblings about things that seemed foreign to him. “How about lunch?” I’d skipped breakfast and hunger had set in. “Anyone hungry?”

“I could use a bite,” Adam said.

“Me too.” I glanced sideways at Hoss. No matter what time of day, Hoss was game for a good hot meal.

“Can you eat something, Joe?”

“Yes, Sir.”

We gathered our gun belts and hats, and then I wondered if Joe’s “yes” had been truthful or just the right thing to say. I couldn’t read my son’s curt answers. “Yes, Sir. No, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” The formality was overwhelming.  We walked toward The Lost Wages Saloon. “We had supper here last night. Good food.”

After finding an empty table, I took the liberty of ordering. “Four nice thick steaks and all the fixin’s.”

“Comin’ right up.”

“Oh, and four cold beers.” When our drinks arrived, Hoss and Adam and I drank heartily but not Joe. He stared at the frothy mug and up at me. “Try it, Son.”

I hoped by ordering an alcoholic beverage, Joe felt that I considered him as much of a man as his brothers, and when he lifted the glass to his lips and sipped the golden ale, a small line of foam lingered on his upper lip.

“Good,” he said. “Thank you, Sir.”

As far as I knew, Joe had never been inside a saloon, and he’d never tasted alcohol. This was a first for him. A step into manhood whether he was ready or not. To my knowledge, he’d never been allowed to leave Johansson’s farm. The boys were held captive, prisoners, cheap labor for a man who tried to drive his son to the brink. Whatever else took place, I wanted to keep hidden away, but I had to know the truth before I could have my son whole again.

The plates were delivered, one for each of us and Hoss dug right in. Adam picked up his knife and fork but studied his young brother who’d kept his hands in his lap as though he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Go ahead, Son. Try your steak.”

A clear picture was beginning to form. Ask permission first. Don’t think for yourself or take initiative of any kind. Obey orders or pay the consequences. Joe had been forced to live like an animal, unthinking and unfeeling. Not a prized stallion, but a lowly swaybacked mare that could easily be discarded and replaced by another.

We had a lot of work ahead of us. Conditioning. I’d grown to hate that word, but if Joe had been conditioned to that kind of life, he could be conditioned back into our world too. A man with confidence. A man who held his head high. A man who called himself Cartwright. That was my Little Joe, and I vowed to bring him back.

Leaving Placerville would count as the first day of Joseph’s future. With a family that loved and nurtured him, it wouldn’t take long before Joe’s old self returned. When suppertime rolled around, we had food delivered to our room, and what we noticed after two meals with Joe, was how his appetite for good, healthy food seemed lacking. He barely touched his lunch; he’d moved more food around on his plate than he put in his mouth, and the same thing happened at supper. I ordered four servings of beef stew and a full loaf of bread. He devoured the crusty bread but offered his stew to Hoss. It made me wonder if the boys had survived mainly on army rations of jerky and hardtack rather than substantial meals of vegetables and meat.

All things in time. My questions would have to wait. Soon after supper, I showed Joe which bed he could use. “This okay or would you rather sleep in the other room?”

“Sir?”

“Which bed, Son?” Joe shook his head. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Panic filled his eyes and I didn’t know why. “I thought you’d stay here with your brothers and me tonight rather than the boardinghouse with the other boys. Is that a problem?”

Joe fell to his knees and after wrapping his arms around his mid-section, he rocked back and forth. I knelt down beside him. “Tell me, Joe. Tell me what’s wrong.” Violently, he shook his head. He laced his fingers together as if to pray. When I reached for his shoulders, he jerked forward and collapsed into a tight ball of flesh and bone.

“I’m sorry, Son. What did I do? What did I say?”

Adam and Hoss stood in the doorway watching Joe’s bizarre behavior. I looked at them both and realized they knew nothing more than their brother had become fearful and afraid of my touch. Again, I was at a loss.

“Joseph? Can you hear me, Boy?”

“I’ll go back.  I’ll go back.”

“With the boys?”

He nodded and nearly knocked my elder sons down when he stood and dashed toward the hotel door.

“Joe! Wait!” With fever-red cheeks, drops of sweat dotted his forehead. He’d lost all control of his breathing. “Are you afraid? Again, his head bobbed up and down. “Are you afraid of me?”  No answer.  “Afraid to be away from the other boys?”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I won’t do it again.”

I moved toward the door but stopped short of touching the frightened little boy my son had become. “Won’t do what, Joseph?”

“Please, Sir.”

“What is it, Son?”

“I will obey. I will obey. I will obey.”

When Joe collapsed to the floor and covered his white-blonde hair with both hands, I glanced at my elder sons before kneeling down on one knee.

“I’d never hurt you, Joseph. Never.”

The faint sound of Joe’s sobs shattered my heart in ways I hadn’t felt since the day we’d left Placerville without him nearly three years ago. My boy had been broken. Whether he’d been shamed or beaten only time and deep conversation would tell, but I needed something now, some way of proving he was safe with me.

“Johansson is dead, Joseph. He can’t punish you ever again.” I had to get through. I had to make him understand. “Your brothers and I are here to protect you. No one can hurt you now.”

The sobs that racked his body softened, but his tortured soul kept him balled in a fetal position. His hands slid down from his head and he clasped them just under his chin as if the god of his youth might help, but God had let him down. The god I prayed to every night for his return had turned his back on Joe Cartwright.

“I want to help you, Son. I want to make you feel whole again.” Slowly, he rose, but the defeated look on his face broke my heart once again. “It’s been a long day, Joseph. You’re exhausted.”

His red-rimmed eyes glistened as he tried to look me straight on. So slight in stature, so tired and thin, that a good gust of wind could have carried him off to the next county. I guided him into the bedroom and pulled back the blanket so he could crawl in. When he kicked off his boots and slipped under the covers fully dressed, I wished I’d brought a nightshirt, but that was one more item— insignificant at this stage—he’d probably lived without. I turned the wick down low, said goodnight, and met with my elder sons in the drawing room. Mentally, I was drained.

“You okay, Pa?”

“I don’t know, Hoss. I honestly don’t know.”

“Remember what you told Hoss and me earlier.” I looked up at Adam. “You asked us to take it slow.”

“He seems so lost and afraid.”

“I’m sure he is. This is all new to him. He’s been under a watchful eye for so long,  everyone he comes in contact with poses a potential threat.”

“You think I’m a threat to my own son?”

“That’s not what I said but put yourself in Joe’s shoes. The man he looked to for his continued existence is dead. Whether we want to face it or not, Joe counted on that man for food, for the nights they let him sleep, and for things we may never know about. He had a connection with Johansson and the connection between you and Hoss and me has been lost.”

“I understand that, Adam, and I’ve tried everything to get him to trust me again, but I’m failing to get through. I failed him when I let him go on that horse-buying trip. I should’ve known he was too young to be away from home and yet I let him go.”  Without another word, Adam stood, strapped on his gun belt, and picked up his hat. “Where do you think you’re going?

“Three years ago, I said I was sorry. I’ll always be sorry. Joe was my responsibility and your roundabout way of blaming yourself only makes it harder to forget that I’m the guilty party. I’m done here, Pa. I’ve had enough.”

The hotel door slammed in our faces. “Adam! Wait!”

“It’s too late, Pa.”

One son found, another one gone. “I never blamed Adam. Not once. I don’t understand why he brought this up now.”

Leaning forward in his chair, Hoss’s hands fell between his knees. He rubbed his palms together and stared at the carpeted floor. “I think I do.”

“Then please inform your father.”

Hoss stood from his chair. “Adam’s been carrying a heavy load, Pa. For three years, he’s blamed hisself and maybe … just maybe it’s all come to a head.”

“I never blamed him for Joe’s disappearance.”

“Maybe not in words but deep down, he don’t see it like that. No matter what was said, he feels he’s the guilty party.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

*

Chapter 4

Since I didn’t want Joseph awakened by Hoss’s cantankerous snores, I’d been forced to share a bed with my overgrown son. Adam would’ve shared Joe’s bed, but Joe slept alone. Being his first night back, maybe that was for the best.

With the sun barely skimming the horizon, Hoss woke early without my knowing. When I swung my feet to the floor, I noticed he’d dressed and stood in the doorway.

 “We got problems, Pa.”

“It’s too early for problems.” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and pushed up from the bed. “What is it, Son?”

“Little Joe ain’t here.”

“Ain’t here?”

“I checked everywhere and he ain’t here. He’s gone.”

I sighed overloud, rubbed my face again, and looked toward Hoss. “I need to shave and dress and … and see if we can find one or both of your brothers. Maybe you can check the livery. See if Sport is still stabled.”

“Will do.”

Nightmares come in all shapes and sizes, but this nightmare was real. Two missing sons. Their reasons for running were different although they stemmed from that same awful day. A family disrupted by my own country’s greed for answers. A young man was tortured in the name of science; his sibling was tortured by guilt.

When Hoss returned to the suite, I had just finished my morning ritual and was ready to head out. “What did you find?”

“His horse is still there.”

“Good.

“I found out something else too.”

“Oh?” My eldest stepped through the doorway. “Adam.” I moved closer and rested my hands on his shoulders like I used to with Joe when I wanted him to pay close attention. When he didn’t shrug me off, I took it as a good sign. “If I ever implied that you were to blame, it wasn’t my intention.”

Adam took a step back and my arms fell to my sides. “Joe was my responsibility. I let him slip away. It is what it is, Pa.”

“You’re wrong, Son. You told me he went to the outhouse, which was behind the main house. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“Then how were you to know? Use your head, Adam. The same thing would’ve happened to Hoss or to me. Am I right?”

“Perhaps.”

“You know I’m right, and it’s time you changed your thinking. You’re not to blame. No one’s to blame but Johansson.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so. Now, we have to find Joseph. Did Hoss tell you?”

“He did.”

“Then let’s go.”

“No need, Pa.”

My hands flew to my hips. “What?”

“He’s back at the boarding house. I watched him go inside around midnight.”

“Why would he do that? Why would he leave?”

“I don’t have all the answers, but my guess is that Joe thinks that’s where he belongs.”

What in God’s name had those boys been through? What had they been told? “Okay.  Let’s head back to the boardinghouse.”

The three of us marched down the street, and I knocked on the front door. To my surprise, Dr. Hershey answered and waved us in. “I guess you figured out where Joseph was.” I nodded. “The boys are still in their rooms. Let’s sit in the kitchen so we’re not overheard.”

After taking seats at one end of the long table, the widow brought coffee and cups and set them next to the doctor. He poured before he talked.

“Well?” I said. “I suppose you have all the answers.” Realizing how gruff I sounded, I changed the tone of my voice. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long night.”

“I understand, but there are things you need to know before you press on, Mr. Cartwright.”

“I’m listening.”

“I may not have all the answers, but I’ve seen this type of behavior before. I hate to use the word acclimatized, but it fits this type of situation. The boys were trained to behave. Step out of line and face the consequences. I doubt you had a chance to see your son’s wrists or ankles, am I right?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“He still wears scars where iron cuffs were attached to keep him in line. I don’t know all the details. I’ve had less than a week with the boys, and I’m just beginning to get answers to my questions. There was a penalty for any type of disruption in the project and several forms of punishment I didn’t mention earlier. The cuffs were mainly used when the boys were first taken although … a defiant child wore them longer than most. The boys were often beaten into submission. Initially, food and sleep were withheld. It didn’t take long for most of the young men to become fevered and delirious. At that point, Johansson introduced hot broth and sips of cool water back into their diet. The boys were so grateful for anything he gave them, they soon realized it was to their benefit to do as he or the woman instructed.”

Without comment, my sons and I soaked in everything the doctor said. I had a question, though. “What about this woman? She was his housekeeper, right?”

“The sheriff said she’d been hired on as a housekeeper and cook after he signed a five-year lease on the ranch that old man Carter owned but let me get back to the boys.”

Did I want to hear all the graphic details? For the sake of Joe’s recovery, I had no choice but to say, “Go on.”

“The boys worked the farm from sunup to sundown. During the winter months, they chopped enough wood for an army, tended the few animals on the place, and were taught to survive under grueling conditions. How well could they withstand frigid temperatures if stripped of their clothing and forced to remain chained outside overnight? It’s a common tactic used by the Plains Indians. In the summer months, the boys were stripped and staked to the ground in sweltering conditions. Anything and everything was used for the project and recorded for the army doctor to evaluate.

“They were grouped in sets of two. Joseph and Andy McDaniel have become closer than brothers. They care a great deal for each other. You see, Mr. Cartwright, while one suffered through endless hours of … say … chopping wood, chained outdoors, and starved, the other boy was well fed, had eight hours of sleep, and was given light duties such as toting water for the woman or helping to prepare meals, a degrading form of women’s work but not life-threatening.

“The boys were nothing but experimental bodies of mind and flesh. Carl Johansson noted in well-kept journals how the boys reacted to stimuli—lack of food, sleep, or severe weather conditions, which would benefit the army by knowing just how far they could push their troops before delirium or death sent them to an early grave.”

“I’ve never heard of anything so wretched and deprived in all my years. Young men,” I said. “Who gave Johansson the right to abuse my son or any other boy he captured, restrained, and treated worse than an animal?”

“The U.S. Army. Johansson wasn’t a fraud. He had a job to do, and orders to carry out. He did what his commanding officer instructed him to do.”

I heard too much. The mental picture had become too hard to swallow. I tried to keep my sons safe and I failed. Could we make up for lost time or was Joseph damaged for life? “What do we do now? Why did Joseph leave the suite and run back to the boardinghouse last night?”

“As I tried to explain, Joseph has been linked to Andy for three years. They’ve become brothers in a sense. One looks after the other. They care about each other. They fight for each other. They’re a team.”

“And if we break up the team?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I feel that’s why Joseph returned last night. To make sure his “brother” was safe.”

“May we see him?”

“Of course. Why don’t you move into the parlor and I’ll bring him down.” My sons and I rose from the table. Hoss had tears in his eyes, but Adam was livid. His jaw muscles worked feverishly though he kept his thoughts to himself. In fact, none of us spoke.

We moved into the parlor as instructed. No questions asked. Is that how Joe had reacted to the orders given by Johansson or had he been chained and beaten every day? Joe was an easy-going child, but an inborn defiance of rules had plagued him since birth.

The three of us stood when Joseph entered the room. His chin fell to his chest and he clasped his hands behind his back as if submitting to a wrongdoing. Did he think I would punish him for leaving the hotel? Is that what ran through his mind?

“Good morning, Son.”

“Morning, Sir.”

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

“No, Sir.”

“Neither have we. What say we go grab a bite?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you think Andy would like to come with us?”

Joe’s head popped up and a smile made his high cheekbones come to life. “Yes, Sir.”

“Tell him to hurry up. I can’t hold Hoss off much longer.”

As Joe raced up the stairs to their room, there was a brief reminiscence of the Joe I used to know. A happy child. A child so full of pent-up energy, I never thought he’d slow down. I flashed a smile at my elder sons.

“Good thinking, Pa. Guess we’ll get to meet Joe’s other brother.”

I chuckled at Hoss’s ease over a tragic situation. It felt good to let down my guard if only for a minute. After the five of us stepped outside the boardinghouse, Adam pointed to a small café halfway down the block. I turned toward my youngest son. “Will this be all right, Joseph?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Similar in height and weight, the two white-headed boys picked one side of the table, and my sons and I took seats directly across. If nothing else, I wanted to study the boys and see how they interacted with each other. The big difference between yesterday and today was noting the smile on Joe’s face, Andy’s too. There were more similarities. Both boys had curly hair and pearl-white teeth. Each had broad shoulders and slim waists. If they wore the same size boots, I wouldn’t be surprised. They could easily pass for brothers.

I didn’t know which boy was taken first, but I realized that a second young man with similar attributes was essential for Johansson’s research. And, if they’d been inseparable for three years, who was I to change things up now?

Hoss and Adam’s eyes remained glued to the boys also. Joe and Andy fed off each other, and almost complimented each other, in ways I didn’t understand. As if we were nowhere in sight, they played by a set of rules that was foreign to me. They talked in code, a reserved form of prattle they’d developed over their years in captivity.

Maybe I was losing my mind, but different scenarios began running through my head. Had Andy been taken from parents who loved him or had he been left to his own devices by some unforeseen event? There were questions to be asked and answered before I let my thinking travel down a path I’d have to discuss with my elder sons before saying anything to Joe and his friend.

With breakfast finished, I asked the boys if they’d like a new set of clothes. “Your choice,” I said. “I’m buying.” Between the white hair and the stark black and white uniforms they were forced to wear, they stood out in a crowd like circus performers.

“You mean it, Sir? Me and Andy both?”

“You bet I do, Son. Let’s get to shopping.”

I stepped between the two young men, draped my arms across their shoulders, and marched them straight to the mercantile. I let them rummage through the stacks of shirts and pants alone but they each picked out the same outfits, gray shirts, tan pants, and black boots.

“Perhaps you should get a couple of each.” I held up different colored shirts, but they weren’t interested in my selections. They each grabbed another gray shirt and a second pair of tan pants. Not wanting to rock the boat, I picked up four pairs of socks and long johns and reached for my wallet.

“Will that be all, Sir?”

When I glanced over my shoulder at the boys, they stood in front of a looking glass trying on hats. “Not quite.” I leaned my back against the counter and watched the interaction.

Again came the whispered talk, but with a hint of laughter this time. “You boys find what you need?”

They placed the hats back on the pile and stepped forward. “Yes, Sir.”

“Don’t you boys need hats?”

Joe’s smile lit up his face, and he pulled Andy back to the stack where each boy picked out a black hat and centered it over their dominant eye, Joe’s slightly to the left and Andy’s to the right, the only real difference between them. Whether they wanted to look alike or assumed they had to, I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to dampen the mood with fatherly suggestions. There’d be time for that later.

Adam and Hoss had wandered out to the boardwalk while the boys shopped. There’d be much to discuss that evening but for now, I just wanted to see Joseph happy. I wanted to see him smile and know he was free to do as he pleased.

“I have an errand to run,” I said after stepping outside. Four sets of eyes looked my way. “Think you can find something to do for an hour or so?”

“I think we can manage, Pa.” I could always count on Adam. Maybe he already knew what I had in mind. My eldest was intuitive that way.

“I’ll meet you in front of The Lost Wages in an hour.”

“Good enough, Pa.”

I patted Hoss’s shoulder. “Thank you, Son.”

I hurried back to the boardinghouse to speak to the doctor. I needed to know my options before I spoke to my sons. Margaret Brockton let me inside. “Is the doctor still here?”

“We just sat down for coffee and cake. Come along, Mr. Cartwright. There’s plenty for all.”

“Back so soon, Mr. Cartwright?”

“Call me Ben, Doctor.”

“Ben.”

I pulled out a chair and was served coffee and cake before I had a chance to refuse the offer. “I’m curious about Andy.”

“He’s a fine boy, Ben. Polite … well, they’re all polite. Drilled into them for years, but what’s your question?”

“Does he have parents to go home to?”

“The sheriff sent telegrams to all the folks who’d contacted him after their sons went missing, but I’m afraid he only received three return wires. From what I gather from Andy, he ran away from an abusive father about six or eight months before Johansson found him and hauled him out to the farm. Red couldn’t find an address for the boy’s father, and I seriously doubt he’d want to go back anyway. Why do you ask?”

I leaned forward and laced my fingers on top of the table. “There’s a definite connection between Joe and Andy and I thought … well, maybe if I kept them together for a while, the transition back to the Ponderosa might be easier for my son.”

“You make a good point, Ben. You’re probably right, but what happens to Andy when the transition is complete? Will you send him packing?”

“I don’t know. I mean, there’s plenty of room and there are always jobs available if he’d want to stay on as a ranch hand. No, I’d never send him packing unless he stole from me or hurt someone intentionally. It would be his choice whether he stayed or moved on.”

“Have you spoken to him about this?”

“No. I wanted to know all the facts before I said anything to anyone.”

“You’re a wise man, Ben, but you might want to check with Red just to make sure he’s in agreement.”

“Fine. I’ll do that now.” Breakfast still weighed heavy. I drained my cup of coffee but left the piece of cake untouched. The doctor and I both stood. I shook his hand and headed down to see the sheriff.

With his boots propped on the desk, Red swung his feet to the floor and sat up straight when I walked through the door. “Morning, Mr. Cartwright. What can I do for you?”

His red hair glowed like a lamp post; such contrast to the two white-headed boys I’d been with earlier. I took the chair in front of him and propped my elbows on his desk.

“Couple of questions, Sheriff.”

“Shoot.”

“We’ll be leaving tomorrow, and Dr. Hershey says that one of the boys, Andy McDaniel, doesn’t have family to go back to.”

“If you mean a drunk for a father, can’t say I’d be anxious to return to a bum like that either.”

“That’s my point. I’d like to take the boy home with Joe and me.”

“What’s that? You serious?”

“Yes, I am. He and my son, Joseph, are … should I say special friends and I’d hate to separate them. Maybe on down the road but for now, I’d like to keep them together.” “It don’t matter none to me. If you want him, take him. That’s one less boy I have to find a home for.”

“Good. It’s settled then. Joe and Andy will leave town with me tomorrow.” All I had to do now was convince Hoss and Adam that the arrangement would be best for everyone. None of my sons stood outside the saloon when I’d finished my business with Red and Doc Hershey. When I glanced inside, they sat, each holding a beer in their hands. That wasn’t the plan, but when I heard a high-pitched giggle, I smiled and stepped through the batwings. I placed my hands on my hips and used my gruffest voice. “Is this what goes on when I’m not around?”

Joe and Andy sat their mugs down and stood to attention. “Sorry, Sir.”

“Me too, Sir.”

With an oversized smile and a fisted hand, I gently punched my son’s shoulder. “Don’t let me stop you. Bartender,” I hollered and waved my hat. “Another round for the boys and a cold one for me.”

Not until I joined them at the table did Joe and Andy return to their seats. Their sheepish looks vanished and the party was back on track.

“You get your business out of the way?”

“Yes, I did, Adam.”

“We dropped the packages off at the hotel and ended up here. Hoss said a little dessert after breakfast never hurt no one.”

“Is that what this is? Dessert?”

“You bet, Pa. Should’ve been here earlier. Little Joe’s been telling me and Adam some pretty tall tales. He sure ain’t lost his sense of humor.”

“Nothing wrong with a cool beer and tall tales, right boys?” The other side of the coin might be that Joe and Andy felt freer without me around. God knows I didn’t want to come through as the enemy. “I thought you boys would’ve changed into your new clothes.” Frightened and cowering is the best way to describe the look on their faces. “No big deal. Maybe tomorrow.”

Without realizing, I’d said the wrong thing again. They’d been made to wear the same clothing for three years. They hadn’t been given a choice and I understood that now. Was I introducing a normal way of life too fast? New clothes. Drinking beer in a saloon. Sleeping with a family he barely recognized. Today had been an entirely new experience for them and they were unsure. The tall tales ended when I joined the party, the boys hesitated to say more, but Hoss picked up the slack.

“I can’t wait to get you back home, Joseph. You remember Hop Sing?” Joe tilted his head to the side, but Hoss continued. “He’s our cook, Little Brother. Known you since the day you were born, and he’ll make all your favorites. Just wait and see. Fried chicken and chocolate cake. Remember Hop Sing’s chocolate cake? It’s good eating, Boy.”

The look on Joe’s face was still there, somber and unsure. If that look didn’t change when I mentioned Andy coming home with us, I wasn’t sure where we’d go from there. I needed to sit down with Hoss and Adam soon.

“When you young men are finished, we need to stock up on supplies for the trip.”

“We leaving tomorrow, Pa?”

“I think so, Hoss.”

“Good. I’m about half tired of this town.”

“You just want to get back to Hop Sing’s cooking.”

“It ain’t just that, Adam, right, Little Joe? You’re ready to leave, ain’t you?”

Joe glanced at Hoss and returned his gaze back to his half-full mug of beer. There wasn’t a ready answer as Hoss had hoped, and he turned his attention to me. I didn’t have answers yet either.

*

Chapter 5

We dropped the boys back at the boarding house and said we’d be back at six to take them to supper. Hoss and Adam and I went back to the suite but before I could lay out my proposal, Adam made his assumption known.

“We’re taking both boys home with us, aren’t we?”

I chuckled at his gift of presuming. My son knew me well. “What do you boys think?”

“Fine with me,” Hoss said. “Seems like they’re kinda joined at the hip.”

“I assume that’s the errand you ran earlier.”

“I talked to the doctor and the sheriff. Both agreed it might be for the best.”

“Then it’s set, right?” Hoss was the easy child. He rarely thought past the present and if it made Joe happy, there was no other way to go.

“What do you think, Adam?”

“Like Hoss said. They’re joined at the hip, but what about Andy? Have you talked to him?”

“No. I wanted your input first.” I explained the drunken father, and that the boy had run away from home not long before Johansson got his hands on him.

“It’s your house. I have no objection.”

“It’s our house, Adam, and I want us all to be in agreement.  Are we?”  Both boys nodded.  “Good. We’ll speak to Joe and Andy during supper.”

“Why don’t Hoss and I go down to the livery and see what horses he has for sale.”

I considered Adam’s statement and changed my mind about the discussion I needed to have with the boys. “Maybe I should talk to the boys now rather than at supper. Depending on how things go, we can purchase the right amount of supplies and stock for the trip.”

“Makes sense to me,” Hoss said. “Let’s go.”

We marched back to the boarding house, and I asked Margaret Brockton if we could have a few minutes in the parlor alone with Andy and Joe. She agreed and hollered up the stairs to the boys. Down they came like soldiers obeying orders.

“It ain’t time to eat again, is it, Sir?”

“No, Little Joe.” Joe struggled to eat and the thought of more food had probably made him half sick to his stomach. “Have a seat, will you? I have a proposition to make.” The two sat together on the sofa. My elder sons and I faced them. “How would you both like to come home with Adam and Hoss and me to the Ponderosa? We have plenty of room and plenty of work to keep you both busy.”

Andy didn’t seem sure, but Joseph was another story. Joe seemed thrilled but how about his look-alike partner? “How does that sound to you, Young Man?”

Had the term “work” frightened him? Did it sound too much like Johansson’s farm? Andy seemed fearful and only Joe could explain … if he remembered enough to do so. “Have you ever told your friend about the Ponderosa, Little Joe?”

“No, Sir.”

“Do you remember the home you shared with your brothers and me before you were taken?”

“I … I’m not sure.”

“Do you remember anything at all?”

“School.  I hated school.”

My elder sons hid their smiles. “Anything else?”

“Riding Cochise. A lake. A big lake.”

“Good. That’s good, Son. Do you remember anything about the house?”

Joe seemed deep in thought. “Safe.” His answer was unexpected, but I was overjoyed by his response. “A good place. A happy place.”

“It can be a happy place again, Joseph.”

Andy leaned in and whispered in his partner’s ear, and Joe came away smiling. “You want both of us to go with you?”

“We certainly do.”

“Tomorrow?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay.”

“Good. It’s all set then. Why don’t you and Andy go with Adam down to the livery and pick out a couple of mounts for the trip? Hoss and I will gather up supplies so we can leave bright and early in the morning.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d taken on. I watched Joe and Andy’s faces light up, and that was all I needed to see. Whether right or wrong, good or bad, the decision had been made, and I hoped we were doing what was best for both boys. Any problems that lay ahead—and I knew they laid in wait—we’d tackle them as a family, a rock-solid family like Andy had never known.

Though I longed to gather my son in my arms and hold him tight to my chest, was it too soon to show such affection? I was unsure about so many things that used to feel natural and now seemed awkwardly out of place. The boy who once thrived on love and acceptance, was he the same young man who sat in front of me smiling at his friend rather than at his brothers or me? Could the love and dedication to the family Joe had once known ever be equaled again? Tomorrow, the adventure would begin, an overnight campsite and sleeping on the cold, hard ground, and then home to the Ponderosa. Adjustments would be made and God willing, both boys would settle in and become good, upstanding young men. That’s all any father could hope for. Their future was in my hands, mine and Adam and Hoss, and I prayed we were up to the task.

The End
2020

The next story in this series: – The Farm #2