The Farm #2

~The Return~

by jfclover

I woke to a horrific sound, so inhuman that I tossed my bedroll aside and reached for my gun. A wild cat? Though they rarely attacked at night, what else could it be? Adam had done the same only he’d reacted faster than his old man. Standing tall, he squinted deep into the darkness and leveled his pistol; he sought to eliminate the intruder.

Swallowing the heavy lump in my throat, I sat up and listened for another ear-piercing scream, but a whispered voice caught my attention and I turned toward the sound. Andy McDaniel, the young man who rode with us from Placerville, cradled a whimpering Joseph in his arms. I’d been struck by their close relationship and thought I understood the extent until now, but Andy’s reaction to the situation was more than two young fellas who told tall tales and drank their first beer together in the local saloon. This type of bond had no limits.

Moving closer to the seventeen-year-old boys, I knelt on one knee. “What happened?”

“Just a nightmare, Sir. He’s fine now.”

A boy I barely knew held my son close to his chest and rubbed his back in a circular motion. In the low glow of the campfire, I witnessed the intense sense of loyalty the boys held for each other. Andy had calmed Joe by using a soft, endearing voice and gentle hands just like Adam or I had when Joe was young and often fragile after similar night terrors. Without reservation, Andy was able to comfort my son back to sleep.

“Thank you,” I said and crawled back to my place in camp. Adam holstered his gun and settled under his bedroll. Nothing more was said although I couldn’t close my eyes after witnessing the scene and the whispered words between friends.

Much more would need to be discussed about their days on the farm. Had Joe been brutalized more than Andy or vice versa? Were they taunted equally, deprived of life’s necessities until one of them dropped from exhaustion leaving the other boy strong and willing to tend to his partner’s needs?

Children caring for children. Fevered and possibly delirious from the harsh reality of starvation, frigid weather, and the stress of fatigue, gave my blood good reason to boil. I bore such hatred toward those who ordered Joe captured and grossly mistreated that sleep wouldn’t come. I flung my bedroll aside for a second time that night and walked deep into the woods. I sobbed for my troubled boy.

By sunrise, there were no reminders of the terror that struck Joseph during the night. He and Andy were eager to help in any way they could. They gathered wood for the campfire and saddled all five mounts before we sat down to a meager breakfast of coffee, bacon, and beans.

“Ready to ride, Boys?”

“Yes, Sir,” they chanted in unison.

The second day’s ride proved uneventful until Hoss entertained us all with stories of Joe’s early years, which, the way Hoss embellished; they might’ve been considered tall tales to someone who didn’t know Joseph as we did.

“Remember when you and Mitch and Seth tipped old man Snyder’s outhouse after he hollered at you for fishin’ in his pond? Remember how Pa warmed your butt for that one? You couldn’t sit for a week, little brother.”

I appreciated Hoss trying to bring Joe’s mind around and help him remember his past, but I could think of better stories than ones that included punishment.

“Okay,” Adam said. “How about the time Joe climbed Eagle’s Nest.”

“That was a long night, weren’t it, Adam? Little Shaver was only five. Had me and you and Pa really going that time, didn’t he?”

Though I caught Andy chuckling at times, Joe hadn’t acknowledged his youthful behavior, nor had he questioned his brothers’ renditions of his rather active past. We’d almost lost him that night at Eagle’s Nest, and I wasn’t finding the same humor as my grown sons, but I didn’t interrupt either of them. If just one of those images triggered a reaction, I was willing to let them continue.

We kept a steady pace and by dusk, we rode into the yard where Joe saw the house for the first time in years. I hoped for a spark of recognition, but his continued silence said volumes. I didn’t know what it would take before the reality of being Little Joe Cartwright, beloved son and brother, began to surface. Take it slow. I needed to heed my own words.

Adam and Hoss said they’d stable the horses. I grabbed my saddlebags off Buck, but the rest of the supplies, including Joe and Andy’s second set of clothes had been split between my older son’s bags. I led the younger boys into the house.

“This is it,” I said. “This is the home you were raised in, Joe.”

Joe and Andy took separate paths around the room. Andy walked straight ahead while Joe turned to his right and stopped in front of my desk. Something had caught his eye and when he picked up one of the silver frames, I prayed for a connection. He returned the first and picked up the second. After studying Inger’s face, he set that one down and picked up the third—his mother. He stared longer this time and held it with both hands. He bowed his head and whispered, “Mama.”

I crossed the room and lay my hand on his shoulder. “Beautiful, wasn’t she?”

“Pa?”

Tears gave way, and I pulled my son to my chest. “Yes, Joseph.” I didn’t care if the whole world was watching. My son was home and nothing else mattered. I’d longed for the day. I longed to hold my boy, to know he was alive, and that no matter how much he’d endured at the hands of evil men, no one could destroy the bond I shared with my youngest son.

I didn’t hear Hoss and Adam walk through the front door, and I didn’t see them move toward Andy and take him into the kitchen. My thanks would come later. I led Joseph up to his room and saw recognition in his eyes. He touched the quilt on his bed before moving toward the window and looking outside.

“I stood here many times, Pa. Every time you sent me to my room, I came here first and stared at what I was missing because I’d disappointed you in some way. I always felt bad, but that had been after the fact after I’d done something I shouldn’t.”

I listened but I didn’t interrupt.

“That day in Placerville when I went behind the main house, I finished my business and that’s when an army officer approached me. It seemed odd at the time, but he’d made me curious. He said he rode the finest horse in the army and would I like to see him. I jumped at the chance.”

Joe glanced over his shoulder at me then turned back toward the window before he continued his story. “He said his mount was just over the rise and it would only take a minute. I believed him, Pa. Gullible, stupid Joe Cartwright.”

I started to speak but thought otherwise. The story was not yet finished.

“Before I knew what happened, he tied my hands and gagged my mouth. He had me mount the second horse he brought with him, and we rode fast and hard. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t scream for Adam. If I hadn’t gone with him. If I hadn’t fallen for … if I hadn’t been so stupid.”

“No, Joseph.” I crossed the room and stood behind him. “You were a child. He was an adult dressed in uniform. How could you have known what lay ahead?”

“If I just—“

“No more ifs, Son. Don’t even try to blame yourself. The blame rests on the U.S. Army and Johansson. No one else. It’s just like I told Adam.”

“Adam?”

“He blames himself too, always has.”

“Adam didn’t do anything wrong.”

“And neither did you.”

As a tentative smile formed, I knew I’d gotten through; at least, I hoped. Two sons wrought with guilt was no way to live. It had to end before we could move forward as a family.

I wiped my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. “Why don’t we join the others.” Joe nodded and we moved down the hall to the stairs. My sons and Andy had found seats at the dining room table where they enjoyed cups of coffee and fresh-baked sugar cookies. With his hands folded in front of him, Hop Sing stood patiently waiting to see his favorite son.

Joe descended the stairs and headed straight to the man who helped raise him. After a few soft words in Cantonese, Joe wrapped his arms around Hop Sing until both became one. The memories of home and family I thought might be lost forever had returned. My son was home, and our family was complete. The start of his new life would begin.

Chapter 2

Andy came from the city, had been raised by the town drunk, and knew nothing about ranching. To get things rolling and to discover what Joe remembered about day-to-day tasks, I asked that he take his friend in hand and show him how things were done. That way, I could also find out what Joseph remembered or had learned on the farm. Since he’d been school-age when he disappeared, he, too, had things to learn.

The upcoming drive was just weeks away and neither of the boys was ready for the grueling responsibility of pushing eight hundred head of cattle to Sacramento. If I kept them home, I had to stay behind too, which put us down one more man and left Adam to serve as trail boss. Though I hadn’t discussed the problem with my elder sons, I felt sure the thought had crossed their minds.

When Joe and Andy burst through the front door, laughing and punching each other’s arm playfully, I looked up from the notes on my desk. “What’s so funny?”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ till you watch a city boy try to muck stalls.”

“Oh? And you’re an expert?”

“Sure I am, Pa. Been swinging a rake since I was old enough to hold one in my hands.”

“You have a point, Joseph, but what about the—“ I cut my question short. Should I bring up the farm or not? There was so much I didn’t understand about those missing years and was afraid to ask. Why hadn’t Andy ever mucked a stall? Was that Joe’s job or someone else’s? “Hang in there, Andy,” I said instead. “Don’t let Joseph’s expertise get you down.”

“Oh, no, Sir. It’s just his way. I don’t listen to half of what he says.”

“You’re a smart boy, Son.”

I licked the tip of my pencil and began sorting numbers in the ledger when Joe pressed his palms on my desk. “Hey, Pa?” I looked up. “How long till the cattle drive?”

“Three weeks.”

“Maybe I better show Andy how to rope a steer instead of cleaning the barn and straightening tack.”

I feared the question would arise, but could I manage the right words to explain? I cleared my throat. “We won’t be going this time, Son. Just Adam and Hoss and whatever drovers they can find.”

“What do you mean we won’t be going?”

“Just what I said, Joseph. Neither of you are ready for a three-week drive. It’s not a simple task and I don’t think … maybe next time.”

“That ain’t fair, Pa.”

“Fair?” I stood from my seat and rounded the desk to meet my son eye-to-eye. “I don’t think fair is the appropriate word, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and Andy are new to all this. You were a schoolboy when you disappeared. You weren’t ready for three weeks on the trail, and I don’t believe you’re ready now.” I looked on as Joe’s shoulders fell and he stared at the tips of his boots. Perhaps I overstepped. Perhaps I sounded just like Johansson.

“Yes, Sir. Whatever you say, Sir.”

“Joseph, please.”

“Sorry, Sir. Didn’t mean no disrespect.”

Over the past week, I discovered that Joe was quick to retreat to the set of rules he lived by on the farm. “Yes, Sir. No, Sir.” Do what you’re told or be punished, maybe within an inch of your life. I still didn’t know the details, and maybe it was time to sit down and see if the boys would talk. Hoss and Adam were rounding up strays, and I suggested that Joe and Andy join me at the dining room table.

“Hop Sing? Would you bring two glasses of milk and coffee for me?”

“Right away.”

The boys took their seats and I joined them at the head of the table. After our drinks and a plate of cookies were served, I cleared my mind of figures and cattle drives and concentrated on the two boys and their years of captivity. They’d been home for a week, and nothing had been said about Johansson or the farm.  It was time to delve into the world they’d known and a world I knew nothing about.

“There are things I need to know, and I hope you boys can help me out.” Blank eyes stared back. “I’ve only been told bits and pieces about the past three years, and it would be helpful if I knew more. What do you think?”

I gazed at my youngest son and when he dipped his head, I realized nothing about this little talk would be easy. Even when Joe was a child, it often took time to pry the truth from him, and we seemed to be right back to that little boy who found it hard to look me in the eye and tell his side of the story.

“I’m not sure what you want to know, Mr. Cartwright.”

“I want to know your day-to-day routine. I want to know how you were punished if you disobeyed. I want to know what Johansson fed you and how many times a day. Joseph can’t stomach more than a few bites at mealtime, and I want to know why a seventeen-year-old avoids eating good, healthy food. I want to know what the nightmares are all about. Do you understand what I’m saying? I need to know everything that happened on that farm.”

“That’s a big order, Sir.”

I relayed my thoughts to Andy as if Joseph wasn’t even there. “I know what you’re saying, but you need to understand that as a father, I can’t help my son until I know what the underlying problems are. Just moments ago, Joseph cowered in front of me. He went back to a world I know nothing about. Joe has always been a fighter. He’d never give up on something he believed in that quickly.”

“You mean the cattle drive?”

“Yes, I mean the cattle drive.”

Joe hadn’t looked up. He kept his head bowed and his hands in his lap. This wasn’t my son. And when he pushed back his chair and ran toward the stairs, I stood and called out his name. “Joseph,” but he didn’t stop running until the bedroom door slammed shut.

“I’ll go.”

“No. You stay right here and explain what just happened.”

An explanation didn’t come easily. Andy’s father was a drunkard, and maybe that’s when he learned to think before he spoke. Unlike Joseph, he mulled things over first, but if the situation called for patience, I could be a very patient man.

“Joe didn’t tell you the whole truth, Mr. Cartwright. When he first came to the farm, he and I were paired up, everyone was. Jake and Tommy. Si and Billy. Arnold and Frank. Me and Joe. That’s how things worked. At night, when we were supposed to be sleeping, Joe talked a lot about you and the Ponderosa. He told me about Adam and Hoss and Hop Sing. He said as soon as you let him quit school, he planned to work alongside his brothers, but we were stuck in that awful place. Those dreams he had of becoming the right age and doing grown-up work eventually went by the wayside. The stories of home quit coming.”

“But why? Why no more stories?”

“I don’t think I should—“

The boy struggled to keep the truth hidden. “You have to, Andy. I have to know why.”

“Johansson … he …”

“Go on.”

“One night, he overheard us talking.”

I leaned closer. “And?”

“He pulled Joe from his bed and took him away. He … um … there was a holding cell in the barn and … Joe, he was put inside.”

It took everything inside me to hold my temper in check. “What kind of cell?”

“A deep pit in the barn floor with iron bars across the top. If you disobeyed orders, you had to jump down into the pit.”

“How long?”

“Sometimes a day. Sometimes a week. It depended on the infraction.”

“How long was Joe in the pit?”

“That time, he spent a week.”

“Was he fed?”

“Bread and water.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes, Sir.”

It occurred to me Andy had said, “that time,” which said volumes. How many times had this type of punishment occurred? How often had Joe disobeyed? “Was Joe put there more than once?”

“Yes.”

“Often?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Mr. Cartwright …”

I thought the worst was over, but I had to know why a fourteen-year-old boy had been caged like a wild, vicious animal. I had to know what I was dealing with. “Take your time, but you’re not leaving this table until I know everything that happened.” After those few words, Andy’s resolve to hold back gave way to the truth.

“You know about the research, right?”

“I know about Johansson withholding food and sleep, but why don’t you explain the rest.”

“Talking about our past was prohibited. That’s why Joe was taken to the barn that night, but Johansson caught him again the next week … and the next. Each time, a week was added to the punishment, but Joe didn’t care. ‘I can take it,’ he’d say, but the pit wore him down, and I guess you could say the Ponderosa had been erased from his mind. I remembered it all, though. The house, the lake, the tall trees, and of course, the best stock money could buy. Joe was prideful of his home. Home and family meant everything to him, but he could take only so much, and he never spoke of home again.”

I held my grief in check. The story had just begun, and I needed more. “Go on, Son. We have three years to cover.”

Andy relayed some of the same stories Dr. Hershey had mentioned back in Placerville. Being chained outside overnight during the worst conditions possible, winter cold and blazing heat, and the excessive number of chores without food or water were just the beginning. After a full day’s work, the boys were often forced to march the perimeter of the farm from sundown to sunup and then plow or harvest the fields the next day. Endurance had been Johansson’s motive for the excess.

Disobedience meant punishment. Trying to escape was considered desertion and the boys were stripped of their boots and shirts and forced to hold full wooden buckets of water at shoulder height until their arms and shoulder muscles were spent, and they collapsed in the dirt. Then, they were taken to the pit.

I prayed Andy was finished but when he continued, my heart sank.

“Should I go on?”

“There’s more?”

“You said you wanted everything.”

I glanced up the stairs. Joe hadn’t come out of his room and there was no time like the present. “Go on.”

“Your son never gave up the fight, Mr. Cartwright; at least that first year. Sometimes I tagged along with his ideas. ‘I have a plan,’ he’d say. I’d try to talk him out of running, but he was always so gung-ho to have us both out of there that I usually fell for his schemes.”

I remembered something Hoss had said not so long ago. “You can break the horse, but you can’t always break his spirit.” And that was Joe. Always thinking. Always planning his next move. Hoss was right. Johansson never broke his spirit. But Andy had said that first year. We had two more to go.

“Those were the worst times. We always got caught and hauled back to the farm, and that’s when Johansson tried to pit us against each other. He knew we’d become fast friends, and his solution was to punish Joe. He felt that Joe was the leader.

“Other times, he’d tie Joe’s arms straight out between the two posts he’d set in the ground behind the barn. He said it was an old Indian trick and who better than Joe to show strength of character? He’d make me and the other boys watch.”

“Watch what?”

“You see, Mr. Cartwright. Rawhide shrinks and Joe’s wrists were bound with wet rawhide. By noon, after the leather dried completely, Joe’s arms were nearly pulled from their sockets.”

“That man,” I whispered. “Who gave him the right?”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but you said—”

“I know what I said, but I’ve heard enough for now.” I rose from my chair and crossed the room. I slammed the front door on my way out.

By the time I caught my breath and had time to think things through, Andy had retreated upstairs to his room, possibly Joe’s. As close as the two boys were, I had to assume they’d already discussed everything I’d been told but what now? How could Joseph move forward after what he’d been through? Could a normal life ever exist again? Would a strong hand to hold and an understanding heart be the key to unlocking the horrors of the past?

Chapter 3

Adam and Hoss were late riding in, and I asked Hop Sing to hold supper until they arrived. I wasn’t ready to discuss Johansson and his brutality, and I busied myself with bookwork throughout the afternoon hours. Maybe that was wrong, but I needed time to consider the effects. Would a discussion of past events bring the family closer or set us further apart?

When my older sons arrived home, I asked them what they thought about taking the boys on the drive. Adam balked at first, and I explained why I thought it might be best to keep us all together.

“Joseph’s been to hell and back, and he needs to know we’re family and nothing can break us apart. He wants to work with Andy. He thinks he can have him ready in time for the drive. Are we in agreement?”

Although Adam had reservations, he and Hoss were willing to work with Andy and Joseph before the drive. Too many things could go wrong and if the boys weren’t at the top of their game, the results could prove devastating. By the time we sat down to supper, I felt if we all worked together, we’d have two expert drovers to help get the cattle to Sacramento.

“Your brothers and I discussed the drive,” I said after we filled our plates with roast beef, green beans, and potatoes. Thinking they already knew the outcome; the two white-haired boys dropped their heads. When I announced they’d be joining us on the drive, two smiling faces lit up like Christmas morning.

“But,” I continued. “Neither of you are ready. You’ll be working with Hoss and Adam over the next couple of weeks. You’ll listen and you’ll learn, and they’ll judge whether you’re ready for the drive or not. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Eat up. Let’s get some meat on those bones.”

All four boys left the next morning to help with roundup. As Hoss said last night, “The only way to learn is to do it a hundred times over. Them boys won’t know what hit ‘em. Me and Adam’ll work their tails off.”

At twelve, Joseph had been introduced to roundups but not cattle drives. Though he would’ve gladly missed school to ride with us, I wouldn’t hear of it, and he stayed home with Hop Sing. He’d missed critical years of training. I had no doubt he could become a top hand, but three years of farming didn’t provide the same insight or afford the same discipline needed for three weeks of punching cattle.

By the time they arrived home that evening, the rain that persisted most of the day was down to a sprinkle, and four tired men washed up, changed their muddy clothes, and sat down for supper. “Well?” How’d it go?”

Adam looked at Hoss and then the younger boys. “Who wants to start?”

Hearing the tone of Adam’s voice nearly made me flinch. He sounded none too happy. “We didn’t do so good,” Joe said. I glanced his way, but Adam was quick to reply.

“That’s an understatement.”

“Awe, come on, Adam. It weren’t that bad.”

“No? We only got half a day’s work done.”

“We’ll make it up tomorrow. You were a greenhorn once too, Big Brother.”

With nostrils flared, Joe leaned forward and aimed his question at Hoss. “Who’s callin’ who a greenhorn?”

I rested my hand on Joe’s arm. “Take it easy, Son.”

“I ain’t no greenhorn, Pa.”

“No one said you were.”

“Oh, no?”

“What’s the problem, Adam?”

“Nothing Hoss and I can’t handle. We’ll get the work done tomorrow.”

Andy hadn’t said a word, but Joe’s temper gave way in an instant, and we couldn’t have that with eight hundred beeves on the line. Human lives were at stake too, and Joe had to realize the importance of remaining steady and calm before I allowed him on the drive.

After a few games of checkers and small talk, the younger boys and Hoss headed up to bed. Still toting white hair and dressed like twins in their tan pants and gray shirts, I wondered if that would be a problem during the drive. Without Joe riding Cochise, it would be hard to tell them apart.

Adam remained in his chair although I doubt he’d read much of his book with the three carrying on all evening. He hadn’t said any more about the boy’s so I posed the question that had worried me since supper.

“Will they be ready?”

“Ready?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Adam.”

Slipping his index finger between two pages, he closed his book. “You mean the boys?”

“Of course, I mean the boys.”

“They have a way to go.”

I leaned forward in my chair and took my eldest to task. “That’s not what you inferred earlier. You made it sound like they goofed off all day.”

“I don’t know if goofed off is the right word, but …”

“But what? He isn’t you? He doesn’t do things your way?”

“I didn’t say that either, Pa.”

Adam turned and faced the last remnants of fire before he spoke. “I don’t expect him to be like me, but I expect him to show some maturity. He’s seventeen, Pa. He’s old enough to take a job seriously.”

“And you don’t think he does?”

“I think he’s got a lot to learn.”

I settled back in my chair. “I don’t know.” Adam waited for more of an answer, and I needed to choose my words wisely. “Andy and I had a long talk yesterday. I learned more about the farm and perhaps why Joe is feeling a certain freedom he hasn’t felt for years.”

“Is there something I should know?”

“I don’t know that either, Son. I haven’t spoken to Joe, but I’m sure Andy told him we talked. You know how they are.”

“Two peas.”

“Exactly.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I’ll tell you this. Joe was punished numerous times for running away. I think he’s okay physically, but mental scars are hard to heal. I guess what I’m saying is to take it easy with him. Teach him the ropes but try not to lose patience if things don’t go your way. Give the boys some breathing room. Remember, Son, Joe was just a boy when he was taken, but even then, he dreamed of the day he could quit school and work with you and Hoss. Let’s all try to make the transition a happy one.”

Adam’s quick nod was enough assurance for me. “I’m sorry, Pa.”

“You and Hoss are the best teachers those boys could have. I have confidence that you and your brother will see them through and turn them into the best drovers on the drive.”

While the boys worked round up the following day, I slipped into town and bought each boy a new shirt, red for Andy and dark blue for Joe. We couldn’t have twins on the drive, and brightly colored shirts should do the trick. A game of checkers with our new sheriff almost made me think life was back to normal. Roy asked about the boys, and I said they were adjusting. It was only a half-truth, but outsiders didn’t need to know every detail.

That night at supper, I noticed a distinct change in Joseph. He joked with Andy and his brothers and laughter rang out around the table like never before.

“You should’ve seen them boys today, Pa. Adam and I played ornery steers, and Joe and Andy roped each of us nine outta ten times. They’s learning fast, ain’t they, Adam.”

I smiled at my eldest son. He’d listened to his old man after all. He changed tactics, and let the boys have some fun. An ounce or two of play mixed in changed everything but was hard for Adam to swallow. He’d done just that, though, and I was proud of him.

“Sounds like you had a good day.”

“The best, Pa. Right, Andy?”

“All I can say is thanks for taking me on, Mr. Cartwright.”

“My pleasure, Son.”

Chapter 4

Rain fell as we mounted up for the drive. Spring was like that, and if we were lucky, any chance of snow would bypass the Sierras and head straight for the Rockies. Fingers crossed that luck would be on our side. Hoss hired two extra drovers, Lucky Carmichael and Sam Overton, which gave us seven men in all. Lucky and Sam had punched cattle before, and I saw no immediate problems with his selection. They seemed like decent men, young and hungry for work.

I served as trail boss and after introductions were made, I gave the order to move out. Hop Sing left in his chuck wagon at dawn. I told him where to meet up so he could have a hot lunch waiting when we arrived. No time would be wasted on day one.

After surrounding the herd in the south pasture, we moved southwest to the route that would lead us to Sacramento. Remnants of past drives prevailed. A swath fifty to eighty yards wide still showed signs of last fall’s drive, which made the trail easy to follow.

Adam had set the rotation schedule. Lucky and Sam rode drag the first day. Adam kept Joe with him, and Andy rode alongside Hoss. Day two would be a different story. The boys would be on their own but not together. Adam paired each of them with a more experienced drover. The plan made good sense, and the boys would have a day of instruction under their belts before they were let loose with the herd. By the time the chuckwagon came into sight, we were ready for a much-needed break.

“Hop Sing make good stew.” An iron pot hung over the campfire, and he’d set up a small table with plates, forks, cups, a large pot of coffee, and two loaves of bread. “Everyone eat now,” he barked as though we were children and didn’t have a brain in our heads.

Hoss rubbed his belly as he walked up to the table. “Don’t have to tell me twice, Hop Sing.”

The rest of us followed but no one dared cut in front of Hoss. Even the new men knew better than to disrupt a big man’s place in line. I let Andy and Joe go ahead of Adam and me. The boys looked tired, but they still made time to elbow and needle each other over some earlier event on the trail. Dressed in red and blue, it was much easier to tell them apart as we listened to their trivial banter.

I turned to Adam and whispered. “They doing okay?”

Adam nodded. I’d speak to Hoss later, but there were no telltale signs indicating that anything was amiss. After everyone finished their lunch and set their plates back on the table, we saddled new horses from the remuda and pressed on. Next stop—supper and a good night’s sleep.

By the end of day four, we reached Placerville and made camp in a box canyon west of town. With the mining town and Johansson’s farm behind us, I wondered if we’d made a mistake herding the cattle so close to the infernal research institute.

While we calmed the stock, Hop Sing worked his magic and had a good, hot supper ready when we returned to camp. Our horses had been rope-tied with the others in the remuda, and seven hungry men were anxious to eat and bed down for the night.

Andy and Joe had done well, and I was proud of what they’d managed to learn in such a short period. Even Adam admitted that they’d both buckled down and got the job done. Every night, Hoss praised all four young men for a job well done, but compliments came harder for Adam.

With plates in hand, we all sat down and rested hot cups of coffee on the ground. The banter around the campfire had nothing to do with cattle or fatigue, and I found myself watching Joseph and the way he continued to pick at his food. I needed more insight, and maybe another talk with Andy would help me understand.

The following morning, I woke to the smell of coffee brewing over a flaming fire. I was surprised to find that Joseph had woken before me and had already folded his bedroll. How long had he been awake? Had he slept at all? When we made our way to chuckwagon, Hop Sing poured two cups of coffee.

“Why you up before birds?”

Hop Sing was a treasure. He knew things no one else ever thought or cared about, and he kept our lives running smoothly and comfortably. Even during the hardship of a drive and not having a kitchen to work from, we often took for granted the hours he put in that were above and beyond. But, he never learned that demanding answers before a man drank his first cup of coffee was an irritation I could live without.

“Good morning to you, too.” He handed steaming-hot cups to Joe and me. “Thank you, Hop Sing.”

“You welcome.”

Eyes began to open, and bedrolls were thrown aside as everyone else began to stir and make their way toward Joe and me and their cups of steaming brew. With bacon frying in one skillet and eggs cooking in another, Hop Sing didn’t have time to bark at the others as he had with Joe and me.

“I’ll saddle the horses, Pa.”

“What about breakfast, Son?”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“Joseph …”

But Joe set his cup on the table and started toward the remuda before I had a chance to sit him down and force him to eat with the rest of us. As Andy watched him walk off, I took the young man aside.

“I’m worried about Joe.” Andy seemed perplexed by my statement. “Is there something you haven’t told me about?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Sir.

“I’m referring to my son’s eating habits. He’s prone to skip meals altogether or eat very little of the food on his plate. Is there a reason why?” Andy hesitated to answer. “For Joe’s sake, I need to know.”

“More than once, his food was tainted.” My look of disbelief prompted Andy to continue. “Johansson … well, when Joe would try to escape … it’s a long story, Mr. Cartwright. Are you sure you want to hear it right now?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Johansson used Joe as an example, Sir.”

“Go on.”

“If a soldier was captured by the enemy, Johansson would demonstrate the tactics they used to make a prisoner talk—you know, give up information about the troops. Sometimes, they were beaten. Sometimes, their food was tainted. At times, they were put in the hole. Each time Joe tried to run, he was treated like a prisoner of war.”

“Are you saying Joe tried several escapes?”

“Yes, Sir. Each time he tried, Johansson added punishment to the crime. I begged him to … are you sure you want to hear this, Sir?”

I slid my arm around Andy’s shoulder, and we walked farther into the woods. “If I’m going to help my son recover, I need to know what I’m dealing with and why the actions were taken. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

So much more to the story than I’d been told. So much I didn’t understand that I had to keep probing for answers.

“Andy? Is there more you haven’t told me?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Cartwright.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Just as Andy began to speak of something still unknown to me, an earthshattering explosion rocked the earth where we stood. When I turned toward the sound, shards of rock began roaring down the mountainside, slamming straight into the box canyon and onto the backs of our cattle. Adam and Joe and the two drovers mounted and rode toward the herd. Hoss stayed behind and led two ready mounts toward Andy and me.

“Let’s go!”

The billowing dust cloud blinded us from pinpointing the exact origin of the slide, and in an instant, the cattle began to stampede. To rein them in, shots were fired into the morning sky as the seven of us circled the herd, trying to prevent the obvious nature of spooked cattle. If we could turn them into themselves rather than running for unseen cliffs or too-deep riverbeds, we could save the lot from disaster.

Shouts and shots rang out. Adrenalin ran high as hooves crashed into the ground with a thunderous roar. The situation was dire, and I feared for my sons. One wrong turn of the rein could send an unsuspecting cowboy headlong to the ground. Hoss sat tall in the saddle, and I could see his white hat bobbing up and down. The others were too far away for me to keep track of their movements.

With every nerve on edge, I worked my eager cutting horse left and then right at the far end of the canyon and could only pray that my sons survived the same grueling effort it took to bring eight hundred head to a standstill. When I spotted a glint of blue and then red, I knew the youngest boys could hold their own but, in an instant, both brightly colored shirts were gone, and I stared into the cloudy haze.

Adam’s deep baritone voice rang out— “Man down!” —And I raced toward the direction of the shout. Two unmanned mounts ran from the melee, but as I rode up and pulled my horse to a stop, my worst fears were noted. With hands gripped tight around my boy’s wrists, Andy tried to drag Joe away from the pounding hooves, and, through waves of dust, Adam flew from his mount and grabbed hold of Joe’s booted feet.

I rode alongside until my youngest was safely away before I dismounted and took him in my arms. “What happened?”

“Steer rammed Joe’s mount,” Adam said. “He didn’t stand a chance.”

“I’ll stay with Joseph. You two do what you can.” I turned my attention to my boy’s half-closed eyes. “Son?”

“Pa?”

“I’m right here.”

“Couldn’t get out of the way.”

“You’re all right now.”

“Horse stumbled.”

“I know. Tell me what hurts.”

Joe forced a smile. “Everything.”

“I bet.” I felt along each arm and every finger for broken bones before moving to Joe’s legs. When I lifted his left foot off the ground, he tensed and sucked in a halting breath. No bone protruded—thank God—but whether a fracture or sprain had left him trying to hold back the pain, he needed to see a doctor. “We best get you to town.”

“I’ll be fine, Pa.”

“Sure, you will.”

“I mean it. Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

“You play by my rules now, Joseph. The doctor first. If he says nothing’s wrong, we’ll rejoin the drive.”

“But, Pa.”

I ignored his protest. “Let’s get you on your feet.” If that didn’t do the trick, nothing else would. A painful cry exploded when Joe touched his boot heel to the ground. My assumption was right but was mounting a horse out of the question? We could use the chuckwagon if necessary. “Think you can ride?”

Though he clutched my arm with force, his face paled to that of a ghost. “I can ride.”

I hadn’t paid attention to anything, but Joe and I hadn’t realized the herd was under control until Adam and Andy rode up with two fresh horses in tow. “How is he?” Adam asked.

“Left leg needs to be seen by the doctor.”

“Figures.”

I glared at Adam as I wrapped my arm around Joe’s waist. I could feel his body go rigid before he shouted back at his eldest brother. “I suppose you could’ve done better.”

“Probably not.”

“That’s enough, Boys.” Not until a smile crossed Adam’s face did Joe realize he’d been had by his big brother’s sarcastic teasing.

“Should we hold up here until we hear back whether or not the kid broke his leg?”

“It puts us a day behind, but I see no other choice.”

“Want me to ride with you?”

“No. Joe says he can ride, and I’ll go with him. We should be back by noon at the latest.”

“I’ll tell the others. Good luck, Joe.”

“Thanks, Adam.”

Placerville was about two miles east of the box canyon, and by the time we rode up in front of Doc Hershey’s office, Joe’s face was covered in sweat and his eyes were glassy bright. I helped my stiff-legged son up the stairs and through the front door.

“Doctor?”

“Coming.” Still holding my son upright, Dr. Hershey stopped dead in his tracks when he saw us. “My goodness. You’re the last two I expected to see.”

“We encountered a stampede just west of here, and I’m afraid Joseph didn’t fare too well.”

“Come in and let’s see what I can do.” We followed Doc into the examination room, and I helped maneuver Joe to a sitting position on the long, wooden table. “No blood. That’s always a good sign.”

“It ain’t nothin’, Doc. Just a strained muscle.”

“Will you let me be the judge?”

“The doctor’s right, Joseph.”

“Fine.”

“Let’s ease these boots off … and Joe, you’ll have to drop your drawers.”

The left boot caused Joe to cringe, but when the doctor ran his hands up Joe’s shin, he cried out. Dr. Hershey glanced sideways at his patient. “Doesn’t look good, Joe.” My son shook his head with disgust. His first real cattle drive, and he’d be laid up for the duration. “I’ll have to cast the leg.”

“You sure, Doc?”

“Quite.”

Although the cast only ran from below Joe’s knee and covered his foot to contain any movement, he’d be saddled with crutches for the next few weeks. “What do I do now, Pa?”

“Well, if they take the herd on in, that’s another two weeks at least before they head back this way. I suggest we book a room at the hotel and—”

“Book a room?”

“What do you suggest?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I could ride in the chuckwagon.”

I settled my hands on my hips. “Do you honestly think Hop Sing would go for a stunt like that?”

“I guess not.” His shoulders fell as optimism that existed only a few hours ago subsided into a melancholy state I’d try my best to elevate.

“Once I get you settled at the hotel, I’ll ride back to the herd and tell your brothers. That way, they can meet us here on their way back.”

“Fine.”

Chapter 5

Adam and Hoss assured me they could get by with five remaining men. “We’ll do fine. You take care of Joe.”

“I plan to do just that.”

By the time I stabled my horse and rushed up the stairs to our hotel room, I found Joseph sound asleep on the bed. Though he’d never admit the injury wore him down, I chose not to wake my young sleeping beauty. With his face relaxed in sleep, he looked so much like his mother that my eyes became blurry at just the thought of how different life would have been had she lived to see her son become a man.

Joe and I had two weeks together, enough time to get things out in the open and perhaps figure out what I could do to help. Nightmares plagued him still, and the reasons behind those terrors needed to be spoken about and rationalized in the light of day rather than pushing for answers at night.

Neither of us had eaten breakfast and after riding back and forth to the box canyon, I was as hungry as Hoss on a bad day. I planned to go to Lost Wages, but the hotel offered several types of sandwiches and side dishes in their small café. Deciding that might be best, I went down and ordered a takeaway lunch.

A little blonde about Joe’s age worked the counter. After boxing up two sandwiches and two nice, red apples, I thanked her and marched back up the stairs to find Joe sitting up in bed. “Hey, Sleepyhead. Ready for lunch?”

Joe didn’t answer, but that didn’t stop me from planting a ham sandwich and a piece of fruit on his lap. I pulled a chair next to the bed and took a big healthy bite of my apple. “Mmm,” I said overloud. “Good. Eat up, Son. Like Hoss would say. We don’t want you wastin’ away to nothin’.”

“I’m not very hungry, Pa.”

“Joseph. There’s nothing wrong with the food, and I want you to eat.”

“I can’t.”

“Why, Joe? Tell me why?”

“It’s nothing.”

“But I know different.”

“What?”

“I’ve spoken to Andy.”

“He exaggerates.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Just leave it alone, Pa. What’s past is past.”

“I can’t, Son. I’m your father and I won’t let you starve yourself to death.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain.” With lunch forgotten, I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs. “I’m waiting.” Joe looked up toward the window, away from me, and glanced back to the sandwich and apple that seemed to repulse him. This couldn’t go on. It had to end today.

“Andy doesn’t lie,” he said.”

“I never said he did.”

“I tried to run, Pa. Every time I was caught, Johansson used me as an example for the others. Each time, the punishment got worse.”

“Such as tainted food.”

“He never wanted to kill me. He just made my life … I don’t know …”

“Miserable?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Johansson is dead, Joe. He can’t hurt you anymore. No more poisoned food. No more sleepless nights. No time spent in the pit. Your brothers and I are here to protect you no matter what.”

“It doesn’t matter, Pa. I know he’s dead and I know you’ll do your best, but every time I see a plate of food, it makes me want to gag or throw up.  Just the thought of eating something that might be … I don’t know.  Andy tried his best. He’d taste my food first to make sure it was safe but … it’s hard to explain.”

“I wasn’t there, Son, and don’t know how you feel, but I can’t let this go on any longer. I can’t sit back and do nothing. I can’t let this continue.”

“It won’t, Pa.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise.”

Joe managed half a sandwich and I should’ve been grateful, but all I could think of as I took small bites of my own lunch was how Joseph struggled internally and how helpless I was to make things right.

The days passed slowly at first. Doc Hershey stopped by twice that first week to check on his patient and, I think, to pry into our personal lives. How had Joe fared since leaving his care? How was Andy making out as a ranch hand? I’d be curious too, I suppose, and I assured him the boys were doing fine.

“You remember Red, our sheriff.”

“Of course.”

“Well, he’s been in contact with an army general. Don’t remember the man’s name, but Red doesn’t want anything like this happening again in his jurisdiction.”

“Good. Although, what’s to keep the army from running experiments elsewhere?”

The doctor shook his head. “I can’t promise they won’t and neither can Red.”

“I haven’t had time to contact the army myself. The boys have kept me busy and then the cattle drive but mark my words, Doctor. They’ll hear from me when we return home.”

“Can’t hurt, Mr. Cartwright, but I wouldn’t hold my breath for an exact answer or expect them to change their ways.”

“Maybe not. Maybe I’m playing a fool’s game.”

“Even fools should have their say.”

“I agree.”

To say Joe and I hadn’t argued would be an understatement. He wanted to rejoin his brothers on the trail, and I objected to his plea. He looked forward to a normal life and felt cheated when his chance to show the world he might be able to rope and cut with the best of them had been taken away early in the drive. I realized the signs of melancholy, and I had to change his outlook before he sunk any deeper.

By the end of the first week, I thought we needed an outing, not that he could do much, but the hotel walls were closing in on us both. “How about a beer, Son? Think you can walk to the saloon?”

“Sounds good, Pa.”

On his last visit, Doc brought a set of crutches for Joe to use while he was in town. Hoss could fashion a pair when we got home, and I propped Doc’s up next to the bed. To my surprise, Joe handled them like a pro. He crossed the room and waited for me by the door.

“You surprise me, Son.”

“Who’s that?”

“I thought you’d need some practice before we left the room.”

“These are nice and sturdy, Pa. Not like … what I meant was let’s get a move on. Time’s a wastin’.”

“Not like what, Joe?”

“Nothing, Pa. Come on. Let’s get that beer.”

I wasn’t born yesterday, and when one of my sons changed direction mid-sentence, it meant there was more to the story, and I wasn’t privy to the details. Joe had been more accident-prone than Hoss or Adam, but no one in our family had ever needed crutches. His gait should’ve been awkward or unsteady, but he’d flown across the room as though nothing was amiss.

“I’m guessing this isn’t the first time you’ve been on crutches.”

“It wasn’t anything, Pa. Just fooled around once.”

“Sit down, Joe.”

“I thought you were ready to go.”

“Sit down.”

When he finally gave in and collapsed in the closest chair, I began my speech. “I realize you’ve been away for three years, but you must remember some of your upbringing. In this family, we don’t lie to each other. We tell the truth no matter how hurtful or what the consequences might be. Sidestepping the truth is nothing more than a lie, Son. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Are you ready to tell me why you’re so proficient with crutches?”

“It doesn’t matter, Pa.”

“It matters to me, Joseph. It matters a great deal.”

“I hurt my leg once, and Andy made me a crutch. That’s all there is to it.”

“How did you hurt your leg?”

Joe’s body melted. He closed his eyes and let his head fall to the back of the chair. “Trust me, Pa. You don’t want to know.”

“It was Johansson, wasn’t it? What was the punishment that time?”

Joe pushed himself up straight and pressed his elbows on his knees. “You’ve already talked to Andy. He told you everything you need to know.”

“He told me some as did the sheriff and the doctor, but they only skimmed the surface. You were there. You know more than you’re telling and as your father, I can’t help you through this if I don’t know the truth.”

“I don’t need help, Pa. I’m fine. Don’t you see? If I tell you every story, it brings it all back, and I’m trying my best to forget.”

“Maybe just this once and then I’ll back off. I won’t pry or make you uncomfortable by asking too many questions. Deal?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I tried to escape. I tried a whole bunch of times, but I always got caught, and the punishment got worse every time. My leg … the same leg,” he said pointing to the cast, “didn’t fare so well after my fifth or sixth attempt.”

At that point, Joe hesitated. I remained silent and prayed he’d finish the story.

“Johansson said they cut the toes off slaves who tried to escape, but he wasn’t going to do that to me. ‘I’m not a butcher,’ he said, ‘but obedience is part of the project, and a lesson will be learned.’ Johansson never dirtied his hands. No,” he chuckled. “Not him. ‘This soldier has brought shame to our unit. He’ll be treated as a prisoner of war and duly punished.’ He handed his metal baton to Andy. ‘You will strike the prisoner.’ When Andy hesitated, I remember how red Johansson’s face got, and he shouted out again. ‘Any man who doesn’t perform their duty will be next in line for a thrashing.’

“Andy swung the baton but eased up just before he connected with my ribs. The next two fellas caught on but so did Johansson. I didn’t stand a chance after that. No one else wanted to take a beating and swung with full force. I heard a bone crack in my left leg, but there wasn’t much I could do. I’d been trussed up like a side of beef in a smokehouse, and when the clubbing ended, my hands were untied and I fell to the ground. Andy helped me back to the house and … that’s about it. That’s when Andy made me a crutch so I could walk.”

“Your leg was never set properly?”

Joe chuckled.

“That’s probably why the bone broke so easily this time, Joe. You should’ve told the doctor.”

“Guess I forgot. Some things you try to forget, Pa. Besides, that was over two years ago. Ancient history.”

“I’m sorry, Son. I’m sorry I made you relive that day all over again.” I took Joe’s hands in mine. “You’re right. The past is the past, and I won’t ask anything more than you’re willing to tell.”

“Thanks, Pa.”

After stepping inside the saloon, I ordered two beers. “You hungry?”

“Not really.”

Joe hobbled his way to a table by an east-facing window. I carried the drinks and joined him. Where else but a ratty saloon could a man forget his troubles and try to move on with his life? Joe had been right. If I kept bringing up the past, I brought all three years current in his mind, and that was no way to live. A man needed space to grow, and I was doing him a great disservice.

“You think they’ve reached Sacramento yet?”

“I doubt it, Son. I don’t expect them back here for another week.”

Joe stared out the window. His mind seemed elsewhere, the drive forgotten. Had I been the cause of those long moments of silence? Was he remembering the harsh reality that consumed his life for so long? I didn’t want him riding horseback, but he could manage a buggy.

“How ‘bout we rent a rig and see the sights?”

“Is there anything worth seeing?”

“Maybe.”

“Fine by me.”

After two beers and little conversation, I had Joe wait in the saloon while I walked down to the livery. When I returned, he stood outside on the boardwalk, waiting. And climbing in the buggy, I handed him the reins. “You want to drive?”

“Sure.” Anything to bring his mind back to the present. “Which way?”

“You’re choice.”

Oddly enough, he drove straight down the road leading to the farm. In amongst neglected fields stood a burned-out shell of a house. The outbuildings, too, had been destroyed by fire. Who’d do such a thing? Red? The housekeeper? Carter, the man who leased the land to Johansson?

Joe pulled up the reins and stared in disbelief at the barren fields. “It’s gone.”

“I don’t know what to say, Son. I’m as shocked as you are.”

“We worked day and night. We packed hundreds of boxes and sent wagonloads of fresh vegetables to the army. Now, they have nothing.”

The sorrowful tone of Joe’s voice brought new questions although I held my tongue. I’d made a deal, and I wasn’t about to break a promise. My son had spent three formative years working the farm under Johansson’s guidance. Some things would never be told. Some things would remain hidden in his subconscious forever. He thought he’d done a noble service for the army, and I couldn’t take that away.

By the time Hoss and Adam and Andy rode into Placerville—dusty and in need of a bath—Joe and I had left the past behind and began talking about his future. Since the age of ten, Joseph knew a good horse when he saw one, and that served as a beginning for our daily talks. At seventeen, he couldn’t sign legal documents, but he could oversee a job that would be of his own doing and in the process, would add growth to the Ponderosa.

The newly founded horse operation would be Joe’s and his alone. He’d be the boss. He could hire and fire and set his own rules and schedule. I would talk to Adam and Hoss, but the decision had been made. Joe needed a future, not a past, and maybe this would help him move on. Hopefully, this was the right thing to do.

My youngest can be very convincing. After a hot bath for Hoss, Adam, and Andy, a juicy steak, and a decent night’s rest, we made plans to ride home the next morning. Joe insisted he could ride, and I let him. My boy was a man now. I’d missed half of his teen years, and I’ll regret that until the day I die, but I had to give him credit for knowing his mind. I couldn’t pamper him like he was still a child. I had to let go. If he could move on, so could I.

“You ready to ride?”

“Let’s go home, Pa,” Adam said.

The looks on all their faces showed promise of a grand future. Hoss and Adam each led horses from the remuda. They’d sold off a few in Sacramento but said these four were keepers. Next time, Joe would make that decision.

I didn’t know what was in store for Andy. Only time will tell. He could leave tomorrow, or he could become a constant part of our family. He was a good kid, and no one had cause to send him packing. Leaving a cloud of dust in our wake, the four of us started for home. The Ponderosa was waiting.

The End
2020

The next story in this series: – The Farm #3