Thanksgiving Miracle

by jfclover

Chapter 1:  Joe

I smiled at my opponent and fanned my cards on the table.  “Full House.” 

When I sat taller in my chair and reached for my winnings, the look on Johnny’s face gave me pause.  Johnny Oldman, foreman of the Circle C sat across from me.  I wouldn’t say we were enemies, but we were far from friends.  His snarly grin was aimed only at me when he pulled four tens from his hand and laid the cards on the table.  In a million years, I didn’t expect him to beat my full house.  He raked the pile of cash that should’ve been mine toward him and stood from the table. 

 

   

“Maybe next time, Kid.

If he cheated me, I couldn’t prove my claim to the sheriff.  He hadn’t won a hand all night and then POW!  He pulls out four tens and beats the pants off me.  I couldn’t go home.  I couldn’t tell Pa that most of my bet was money he trusted me to put in the bank.  

I only stopped for one beer.  It never occurred to me to sit down and play poker, especially with the likes of Johnny Oldman, but Seth motioned me over.  “Join us, Little Joe.  I’m already up ten dollars.”  

Since I planned to take Jenny Hawkins to the dance Saturday night, I could use an extra ten-spot myself, maybe a fancy dinner before the dance or a nice bouquet of flowers.  “Sure.  For just a minute.”

Five of us circled the table when Johnny dealt the first hand.  Before I knew it, two men had left, and Seth was saying goodnight.  I felt lucky and wanted to play one more hand, but that’s when everything went wrong.  That’s when my world came crashing down.

I couldn’t go home.  I couldn’t face my father.  Two thousand dollars lost, gone forever to a no-good cheating ranch hand.  I had two dollars to my name.  If Tom could find it in his heart to let a room at the International go cheap, I’d have time to think what to tell Pa.  The truth wouldn’t do this time.  I had to come up with something better.

Tom was a gracious man.  I asked for the smallest room, and he let it go for two dollars, everything I had.  There’d be no supper, and I’d owe Lenny for Cooch’s room and board.  He’d understand though.  He was a year younger than me and had been in a few scraps himself.

A loud knock woke me the following morning.  It had to be Tom.  No one else knew I’d stayed in town but him and Lenny.  After scratching my head in confusion, I grabbed my trousers and headed for the door.  “Sheriff?  What are you doing here?”

“Came to arrest you, Little Joe.”

I blinked my eyes.  Was I dreaming?  “Say that again, Roy?”

“Get your boots on.  I gotta take you to jail.”

I scratched my head again.  “Why?  What’s this all about?”

Roy looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.  “I think you know, Son.  I sent someone out for your Pa.  I’m sure he’ll be here shortly.”  

It felt like a dream, but it wasn’t.  I pulled on my boots and slipped on my shirt and jacket.  Roy took my gunbelt.  He wasn’t taking any chances.  I followed him out the door and down to the jail and into a cell.

I grabbed the bars as Roy walked away.  “I still don’t know why I’m here, Sheriff.”

Shaking his head, he closed the door behind him and shut my world out.  He wouldn’t give me the time of day, so I sat on the cot and stared at the wall that was barely six feet away.  When I tried to imagine a world without grass and trees and sky, I dropped my head in my hands and realized how much trouble I was in and that there was nothing I could do to save my skin from Roy and his assumption.  But what was he assuming?  I didn’t do a damn thing except to lose Pa’s money, and I’m the only one who knew what a fool I’d been.

My mind had a curious way of deceiving me.  I sensed something odd, something wrong, even terror, yet somewhere in my brain wanted to believe the worst could never happen.  So why had I been jailed?  What evil crime did I commit?

I waited for Pa.  I’d confess my sins and be released.  As far as I could tell, that was the end of the story.  Roy would have to let me go.  I’d work extra chores.  I’d get a side job breaking horses.  Whatever it took to pay my father the two thousand dollars, I was ready to get the job done.  I wasn’t afraid of hard work.

““`

When I heard voices in the outer office, I realized Pa had arrived and this mess would be cleaned up in no time.  I stood and grabbed the bars with both hands.  I could almost taste Hop Sing’s cooking.  I hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday and I was starving.  If our cook knew where I spent the night, he’d make all my favorite dishes—fried chicken, hot biscuits, and gingerbread.  He’d try to wash away a bad memory with delicious food.  I liked his style.

The door to the cells opened and Pa and Hoss charged in.  Roy followed.  I wondered where Adam was then remembered he’d left two days ago for San Francisco.  He planned to have a timber contract signed.  Pa had made a great deal with the San Francisco/San Jose railroad.  Railroad ties were a booming business, and we had enough trees to provide the one hundred miles of track they’d requested.

“I’m glad you’re here, Pa.  Roy seems to think I—”

“Stop, Joseph.”

Hearing Pa’s voice was enough to know I was in real trouble.  But what?  What the hell had I done that would cause such an uproar?  “I don’t understand.”

“What is it you don’t understand?”

“Why am I here?  I got in a stupid poker game, and I’m sorry I lost the money, but you act like I did something—” 

“Poker?  So that’s it.  You lost the money I asked you to put in the bank.  Is that right, Joseph?”

“Yes, Sir, but I’ll pay it back.”

“Do you have any idea how long your prison term might be?”

“Prison.  What do you mean prison?”

“Mort Wilson identified you, Joe.”

“The banker?  Identified me?  What does that mean?  I never made it to the bank.”

“That’s not what he said.”

I dropped my hands and walked away from the bars.  I might be dense, but will someone tell me why I’m here?”

“Does Bank Robbery ring a bell?”

I started to laugh.  “You’re joking, right?  I never robbed Wilson’s bank.”

“He has a different story.”

“Pa, I swear.  I never stepped foot in that bank.”

Pa glared at Roy, and the sheriff shrugged his shoulders.  “It’s Mr. Wilson’s word against Little Joe’s.  I suggest you get a good lawyer, Ben.  This case is goin’ to trial.”

Pa’s head dropped in defeat.  The odds were against me.  Mort Wilson was a good man.  No one would believe he’d lie.  And then there was motive.  I’d lost my father’s money in a poker game.  I had to have two thousand dollars before I rode home.  No one knew my whereabouts except Tom, the hotel manager.  He could say what time I checked in, but he’d be lying if he said for sure I didn’t leave his establishment.  He was the only witness that could give me half an alibi.  

“I’ll go see Hiram, Son.  If he’ll take the case, we’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I’m trying, Son.”

“You know Joe as well as I do, Pa.  Joe ain’t a liar.”

“Thanks, Hoss, but will you do me a favor?”

“Sure, Little Brother.”

“Tell Jenny the dance is off.”

Hoss clapped my shoulder.  “I’ll do that right now.”

““`

The trial was set for Monday, the 14^th.   The circuit judge knew Pa, but that didn’t guarantee victory in the courtroom.  All I could do was tell my story and hope the judge believed me.  Pa and Mr. Woods thought it would be better if I didn’t have a jury trial.  Judge Mahoney was a fair man.  He’d listen to both sides and do the right thing.

Pa and Hoss stayed at the International House the night before the trial.  Pa brought clean clothes and a shaving kit to the jail early that morning.  I had to look like an innocent young man, clean and fresh.  

“You look as purty as a spring day.”  (Hoss’s words.)  

I did my best to look like that spring day before Roy clamped cuffs on my wrists and escorted me to the courthouse.  Pa and Hoss followed closely behind, but I was scared.  It helped to have my family by my side, but until the judge set me free, my breathing stayed short and fast.  Sweat beaded on my forehead, and my legs barely made the trip down C Street.

When we entered the courthouse, I looked for Mr. Wilson, the man who accused me of the horrible crime.  He sat at a front table with his eyes set forward.  The last person he wanted to see was me.  He wouldn’t look me in the eye.  He wouldn’t look Pa in the eye.  Since the day Mort Wilson stepped foot in Virginia City, Pa had welcomed him to our fair city.  Surely, he hadn’t forgotten that.  Surely, he’d come to his senses and tell the judge it was all a terrible mistake.  

““`

How could anything go so wrong?  Judge Mahoney’s verdict took my breath away.

“Joseph Cartwright.  I find you guilty of robbing the Citizen’s Bank of exactly ten thousand dollars.  I sentence you to one-year hard labor for every thousand you stole.  You will begin your sentence at the Nevada State Prison on Monday, the 21^st of this month.”

Mr. Woods pulled me to my feet.  My legs barely supported me, but I could feel his grip, and I did as he expected.  I pressed my fingertips to the table to steady myself.  Pa’s hand rested on my shoulder, but I couldn’t turn around.  I couldn’t look at Pa or Hoss.  I’d been convicted of a crime I didn’t commit, but what did they believe?  Did they think I was guilty of bank robbery?

Roy eased the cuffs into place and led me from the courthouse back to his jail.  I didn’t want company, but they followed Roy like puppy dogs begging for a treat.

“This isn’t the end, Son.  We’ll appeal the verdict.”

I faced the far wall, but I heard every word.  “Don’t bother.”

“Don’t bother?  Look at me, Joseph.”

I turned and faced the bars and saw a world that was no longer mine.  “It’s no use, Pa.  The judge sentenced me.  Keep the home fires burning.  I’ll be home in ten years.”

“That talk doesn’t sit well with me, and you know it.  If you don’t keep a positive attitude, we don’t stand a chance.”

“No matter what you do or how much money you spend, I still don’t stand a chance.  Forget it, Pa.  Just forget it!  Go home and pretend I never existed.”

“That ain’t funny, Little Joe.  Show Pa some respect and quit talking like a little kid.  He’s only trying to help.”

I grabbed the bars.  “Don’t start, Hoss.  Forget about me.  I’m a bank robber, remember?  Surely you and Adam can get along without a rotten kid like me.”

“Aw, Joseph.”

“Take Pa and go home.  I don’t want you here.  I don’t need you.”

Pa took hold of Hoss’ arm and guided him away from the cells.  When my father shut the door behind him, I was finally alone.  I didn’t have to talk about the day’s events.  I didn’t have to think about anything but my first day in prison and all the new friends I’d make.  

God, help me.  I wasn’t a robber.  How could they get it so wrong?

““`

Monday morning came quickly.   Thunder rumbled over the city, but rain never fell.  Something about the turbulent skies and gusts of wind shooting dust down C Street affected my mood.  Pa and Hoss waited with me.  None of us had much to say.  It wasn’t a time for casual chitchat.  Everyone’s nerves were on edge.

Although Pa telegraphed Adam in San Francisco, he couldn’t return to Virginia City before I had to leave.  I’m sure he was upset, but nothing could be done.  The judge wouldn’t change the date he’d decided on for my ten-year sentence.

Hoss had trouble sitting still.  Every street sound had him standing and looking out the window.  Freight wagons passed.  Single riders made their way into town.  He stood and watched them all.  He was the first to spot the prison wagon.  Grabbing the bars of the open-air window in my cell, he dropped his chin to his chest.  I realized what he’d seen.  It was time to say goodbye.

I wasn’t a little kid.  I wasn’t going to cry, but when Pa pulled me to his chest and enveloped me with his strength, tears burned my eyes.  Ten years was a long time.  I’d be a middle-aged man when I walked out of prison, the playful days of youth forever gone.

I had no words for my family.  Roy held out the cuffs. I raised my hands, listened for the click when they closed, and then something odd happened.  Sounds magnified.  Footsteps crossing Roy’s office for the last time.  The front door swinging wide and four of us marching through to the boardwalk where the windowless wagon sat waiting for its prisoner.  The horses snorted dust from their nostrils, and a Bucket of Blood piano played a regaling tune.

The driver jumped down from his seat and stood with his hands clasped behind his back.  Roy guided me to stand in front of him.  My stomach lurched with anticipation, but I didn’t dare lose my breakfast in the middle of C Street.  That would be a helluva way to begin my sentence.

“Jonah Calhoun,” said the driver when he jumped down from his perch.

I suppose the routine was the same for every prisoner of the state, but I was new at this and played along the best I could.  

“Spread ‘em, Son.”  I wasn’t sure what he wanted, and I stood like a dummy who didn’t have a lick of sense.  That’s when he moved behind me and kicked my right ankle, spreading my legs wide.  “Hands against the wagon.”  

I leaned toward the wagon and pressed my palms against the hot metal.  The driver patted me down, starting with my arms and shoulders and working his way to my torso and between my legs.  I’d never been touched by a man like that and standing in front of the family made my nightmare even worse.

“Joseph?”

Even though Pa and Hoss stood right behind me, my father’s voice sounded far away.  I needed his strength, but I couldn’t turn around.  I was no longer part of his world.  The judge had sealed my fate, and I belonged to the state of Nevada.  He believed Mort Wilson over me.  He believed I’d go as far as robbing a bank rather than confess my sins to my father.  How wrong could a highly intelligent man be?

My sentence began with the prison wagon.  Like a turbulent sky before a storm, everything about the wagon was harsh.  The lack of color.  The stairs, the seats, and the bars were a dull iron gray.  A different world than any free man could imagine.

I climbed the two metal stairs and ducked through the small opening at the rear.  I wondered how Hoss would have fit through the doorway.  Two ragtag men sat across from each other on benches that lined the walls.  They stared at me as though I wasn’t their kind, and they were right.  I wasn’t their kind and would never associate with men who were common criminals.  They’d probably done time before.  They probably knew the ropes and knew how to handle themselves.  I was as green as they came.  I knew nothing of their world.

The wagon jolted forward and when my right shoulder crashed into the rear wall, both men chuckled at my expense.  I paid them no mind.  No sense wasting energy on a couple of no-goods.  I didn’t know if we were heading straight to the prison or if Calhoun had more desperate criminals to pick up on the way.  

I tried to close my eyes and forget about everything, but the wheel’s iron rims grated over every rock and small pebble on the road.  The wagon was unforgiving.  We’d all be bruised and exhausted by the time we reached our destination.

Carson City was less than five miles away.  There’d be no more stops.  I’d ridden this route so many times with Pa and my brothers, I knew every rock and tree that lined the road.  

The prison was east of town.  Pa and Adam had both sat on juries that sent men from Storey County to be housed inside the new prison.  Bet they never thought the same thing would happen to one of their own, but when the iron gates swung open and Calhoun drove the wagon inside, fear drifted through me like a snake slithering through dry desert grass.  Fear also showed on the faces of the two men accompanying me.  Their casual repartee stopped as soon as we drew near the impressive stone buildings.

The key turned in the lock and the wagon door rocked open.  I was the first one to climb out and breathe fresh air.  The other two followed, and I wondered what came next.  Lunchtime had come and gone, and I doubt anyone would rush to feed men like us.  We were the scum of the earth and feeding scum wouldn’t be anyone’s priority.

We were lined up single file and led inside one of the smaller buildings.  I took in my surrounding like a kid in a candy store.  Everything was new and different.  Everything was stone and high desert dust until we stood inside the windowless room.  No lanterns burned and no furniture lined the walls.  The room was barren of everything except the three of us.

“Strip down, Boys.  Make it snappy.”

I looked toward my wagon mates, and they looked back at me.  When the taller one took off his boots and set them aside, we did the same.  Shirts and jackets came next then socks and trousers.  We all stood in our bare feet and our long johns.

“Keep goin’, Boys.  Get a move on.”

None of us were eager to stand in front of Calhoun stark naked, but when the man produced a small leather crop from behind his back, we removed the rest of our clothing.

“See them marks on the ground?”  We all looked down.  “Stand on the mark.”

I wasn’t thrilled about being paraded in front of anyone without my clothes on, but I didn’t like the look of Calhoun’s whip either.

“Leland?  You there?”  From the shadows, a tall, thin man stepped forward.  “Get it done.”

After loosening the rope from a hook on the side wall, three buckets of ice-cold water flushed over the three of us.  Even though it was hot outside, the little room was cold and dark, and the freezing water didn’t help.  We were each handed a bar of lye soap.  “Get busy.”

While Leland loaded three more buckets and hoisted them up using his fancy contraption, we washed the best we could, dropped the bars into a small metal bucket, and were drenched again. 

“Let’s go, Boys.  Single file.”

Still dripping, we were marched outside and taken through an alleyway to the other side of the prison.  A wooden flagpole and a large metal box stood in the center of a fenced-in courtyard.   Picture outhouses on stilts, and you can envision where guards stood with rifles pointed in our direction.

A man close to Pa’s age wearing a fancy dress suit and flanked by two flunkies marched toward the three of us and stood next to Calhoun.  “You’re excused,” he said.  Calhoun turned and walked toward the front of the prison.  His job was finished.  I’d probably never see him again.

“Name’s Curry.  Abram Curry and I’m the warden.”  

The man clasped his hands behind his back and began to march back and forth.  I wondered if he’d been an army man in his early years.  It seemed that way, especially when he began speaking.

“You will obey orders.  You will not argue with the men assigned to keep you in line.  You will not speak unless spoken to.  You will eat when you’re told to eat.  You will work when you’re told to work.  You will sleep when you’re told to sleep.  Breaking those rules will lead to a punishment that fits the crime.  Do you understand?”

The three of us mumbled, “Yeah.”

“Yes, Sir,” he commanded.

“Yes, Sir,” we answered.

“Louder.”

“Yes, Sir!”

I felt like a naked newborn with no thoughts or feelings of my own.  My life had been turned over to the warden and his henchmen.  We left our manhood at the front gate.  We were nothing but animals now.  Hell, we didn’t even have clothes.  We’d be fed, watered, and put to work.  That was the life of a convict.

When the warden was finished spelling out the rules, we were instructed to follow one of his flunkies.  His sidekick followed behind.  Both carried leather crops sometimes called a cat o’ nine tails.  For short, the cat.  I never wanted to feel that against my back.  What I wanted most was a pair of trousers.  Marching around in my all-together wasn’t my idea of fun and games.  Maybe prison clothes were next on the agenda.  Maybe I’d remain naked for the next ten years.  Hell, I didn’t know a damn thing.

A dream come true.  After crossing the courtyard, we were thrust inside another stone building.  The three of us were allowed to pick up a set of clothing, a wool blanket, and a pillow.  We walked in single file down the corridor of the largest building in the compound to our new homes, 6’ x 9’ cells, two men in each.  A hand on my shoulder stopped me cold.  Naked equals helpless and exposed, and the man’s hand sent shivers clear to my toes.

“You.  Cartwright.  Inside.”

I didn’t hesitate to move away from the man who felt free to touch me, and I couldn’t swat his hand off my shoulder.  The man who carried the “cat” was in charge.  I wasn’t a dummy.  It wasn’t hard to realize I had no rights and no say in the matter.  I moved into my new home.  Later, I would meet my cellmate, a man twice my age and twice my size.  My days of a peaceful existence were over.

Chapter 2:  Adam

When Pa’s telegram arrived, I worked overtime to finish my work in San Francisco, but it still took days to complete.  Joe was no more capable of bank robbery than he was when he and Hoss got carried away and tried to fix a wrong.  Being miles from home didn’t help.  Nothing could be worse than not being where I was needed.  Whether I could fix the problem was another story, but for Joe’s sake, I had to try.

With a carpetbag in hand, I boarded the stage heading east to Carson City.  Before I talked to anyone else, I wanted to hear Joe’s side.  There must be something he either forgot or didn’t think was necessary to mention to the judge.  I had to find out what that something might be.

Pa and Hoss would be too emotionally involved to give me straight answers.  I’m sure they’d been by Joe’s side since Roy threw him in jail that first day.  I’ve known Judge Mahoney for years, and I always thought he was a fair man so what happened this time?  I’d find out soon enough.  My brother had been imprisoned for nearly a week.  It was time he was granted a visitor.

After the stage pulled into Carson, the depot manager was willing to hold my bag until I returned later in the day.  Though I should’ve taken time for a shower and a shave, I didn’t bother.  Instead, I walked down to the livery and rented a horse so I could ride out to the prison while it was still daylight.  I needed to see my young brother.

Lanterns lit the entrance, and I was forced to stop at the iron gates and explain why I wanted inside.  “I want to see Joe Cartwright.”

“You his attorney?  Them’s the only ones allowed inside.”

“Of course, I’m his attorney.  Why else would I bother?’’  I prayed the lie would open the gate.

“Name?”

“Addison Carter.”

“Sign here.”

The gate swung open, and I walked my rented mount to the front entrance where I was met by another guard.  “Addison Carter, attorney at law.  I’m here to see Joseph Cartwright.”

“One minute, Sir.”

When he returned, he handed me a signed paper.  “First door on your left.  I’ll stable your horse.”

“Thank you.”

Above the door on the left were the words Abram Curry, Warden.  I stepped inside and had to contend with his secretary.  “Addison Carter.”  I handed him the paper.

“This way.”

The warden sat behind a large mahogany desk; a thick cigar clenched between his teeth filled the room with a thick, blue haze.  A picture of his wife and children decorated the righthand corner of his desk, and a stack of papers sat to the left.  I stood in front of the man.  “I’d like to see my client, Joseph Cartwright, Sir.  It’s a matter of utmost importance.”

“Rudy?”

The secretary came quickly.  “Yes, Sir.”

“Take Mr. Carter to the conference room.  I’ll send Carl for Cartwright.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Thank you, Sir.  I’ll note your generosity when I return to Virginia City.  With so much violence in the west, the Territorial Enterprise is always grateful to receive a good human interest story.”

The warden stood.  “Why don’t I escort you to the conference room myself, Mr. Carter.”

“That’s very charitable of you, Warden.”

“Call me Abram.”

“Yes, Sir, Abram.”

Perfect.  I had the warden in my hip pocket.  If I could pull off the client/attorney relationship, I’d have full access to my brother whenever I needed.  If Joe didn’t blow my cover, perhaps I could unearth a future for him after all.

The warden and I walked into the conference room first.  He showed me to a table and said my client would be in shortly.  The stench of his cigar covered the foul-smelling scent of unwashed men.  Two other prisoners sat with their lawyers.  I made the third.  

I stood when Joe was brought in.  He looked surprised to see me and grinned as he crossed the room, but something wasn’t right.  My brother favored his right leg, and it appeared that his right cheekbone had met with someone’s fist.  

“Hey, Broth—”

“Let’s not be so formal, Joseph.”  I raised my right hand and Joe shook it with gusto.  Why don’t you call me Addison?”

Joe was a bright boy.  He understood my meaning right away.  “Fine.  It’s good to see you.”

“You too.  Let’s get down to business.”

Joe took a seat across from me at a scared, wooden table.  As I glanced around the room to note where the guards were and whether they could hear our conversation or not, I realized how void of decoration the four walls seemed to be.  Nothing from the outside world was allowed inside prison walls.  The object was to break and control the men who were trapped inside.  

“What happened to your face?”

“It’s nothing.”

“How about your leg.”

“Let it go, Ad … ison.  It doesn’t matter.”

It mattered to me, but I let it go.  “Okay.  As you wish.”

Joe tried to look away.  He was good at avoiding the obvious, but I garnered his attention when I resumed my role as his lawyer.

“I told the guard I was your attorney.  That’s what got me inside.  I need to hear the whole story from you instead of Hoss and Pa.  I want to know if there’s something you might’ve forgotten to tell the judge.  Is there something you left out?  Why would Mort Wilson say you robbed his bank?”

“Didn’t Pa fill you in?”

“I haven’t been home.  I just got in from San Francisco.”

“And you came here first?”

“That’s right.  We don’t have much time, but let’s start from the beginning.  I know there was a poker game.  Start with that and don’t leave anything out.”

“I lost two thousand dollars on a Full House.” Joe explained everything he knew to be true.  He left nothing out, but his story ended the minute he came through the prison gates.  “That’s it.  That’s all I know.”

“That’s enough for me to start with.  I’ll head back to Virginia City when I leave here.  I have a bit of snooping to do.”

“What about Pa.  Aren’t you going home first?”

“No.  Something isn’t right, Joe, and I plan to find out everything I can about Mort Wilson before I talk to Pa.”

“He’s one of Pa’s best friends.”

“I know he is, and I think that’s part of the problem.  Pa trusts Mort.  Most of our assets are tied up in his bank.  The judge knows Wilson to be a decent man.  I may be barking up the wrong tree, but I know you’re not a bank robber, and I plan to find out who needed ten thousand dollars bad enough to rob Wilson’s bank.”

“What good’s that going to do now?  I’ve been convicted.  I’ve been sentenced to ten years.  Even if you figure something out, the judge isn’t gonna change his mind and let me out.”

“Let me worry about that.  You just stay out of trouble.  Understand?”

“Yeah.  It ain’t easy.”

“Make it easy.”

I hated to leave but I had to make things look good.  The most I could do was shake my brother’s hand, and I did.  “I’ll be back as soon as I know something.”

“Thanks for coming, Ad … thanks.”

As I crossed the conference room, Joe remained at the table.  I didn’t know many of the rules, but I assumed he wasn’t allowed to leave on his own.  He’d probably be shackled before someone marched him back to his cell.  I didn’t turn back.  I didn’t want to see the look on his face.  When I stood to leave, I witnessed a look of defeat and I found myself looking away.  He’d given up and I couldn’t blame him, but I swore I’d get the boy out from behind those damn bars.  Life wasn’t fair, and Joe had been wrongly convicted.  That’s something I knew for sure.

By the time I returned to Virginia City, I was tired and hungry.  I still needed that bath and shave.  I looked like a miner who hadn’t seen civility for weeks, but I needed something to eat.  At least I didn’t smell as bad as the prisoners, and I stopped at a new restaurant on the edge of town.

The shingle read “POPPY’S”.  I didn’t know the owner and hopefully, I wouldn’t see anyone that would be disgusted by my appearance.  I hitched the rental and walked inside.  A lovely young woman sat me in the corner next to a window.

“Thank you.  This will be fine.”

Across the room on a large wooden board were the entries and prices.  Steak and fried potatoes were always a hit with me, and that’s what I ordered.  I rarely left the house without a book and if management didn’t mind, I would read until my dinner was served.  

After giving the young gal—probably the owner’s daughter—my order, I glanced around the small café and realized I had company, but something was wrong.  He had a companion that wasn’t Mrs. Wilson.  Curious.  With my dinner finished, I left cash on the table and scooted out of the little café before I was recognized.  Perhaps my scruffy appearance was a blessing after all.  

I’d left Sport at the livery nearly two weeks ago.  It was time to trade in the rental and pick up my trusty steed.  The rental was okay, but a man always prefers his own mount.  A theory had formed in my mind, but zero proof made my notion impossible to prove.  Maybe it was all wishful thinking.  Maybe I was grabbing at straws, but something had to be done before Joe became institutionalized and would never recover.  It happened to the best of men, but not my little brother.

Pa greeted me with a hearty handshake and said supper was on the table.  I sat with the family while they ate and perhaps I could stomach some dessert, but I’d already eaten and my brain filled with unhealthy thoughts about Mort Wilson.

“How’d everything go, Son?”

“No problems.  Contract’s signed.  We can start felling trees tomorrow.”

“Good.  With everything else going on, I haven’t given timber much thought.”

“I understand.”

There were so many things I wanted to ask Pa about the banker but wondered if I was way off track.  Thinking his actions weren’t on the up and up was more like Joe’s kind of thinking rather than mine.  I was a man who dealt with facts first, and I had none, but who was the young lady and why was she with a fifty-year-old man?  I’d seen his wife several times, and his dinner companion wasn’t the woman he’d married.

Joe’s life was at stake, and I’d have to mention my discovery to Pa.  Whether I was on the right track or not, I couldn’t seem to think things through on my own.  “I saw someone today.”

“Who’s that, Son?”

“Mort Wilson.  We both chose that new little café called Poppy’s on the south side of town.”

“It must’ve been awkward to run into him like that.”

“We didn’t speak.  Maybe it was my appearance that kept him from recognizing me.”

“Surely not.  He and his wife have known you for years.”

“Yes, that’s true, but Mort wasn’t with his wife.”

“That’s odd.  It’s rare to see one without the other after business hours.”

“He was dining with a woman closer to Joe’s age than Marion’s.”

That caught Pa and Hoss’ attention, and they both looked up from their plates of food.  “It must have been a niece or a friend of the family.  You know Mort Wilson as well as I do, Adam, and I hope you’re not suggesting …”

“No, I’m not suggesting anything, Pa.  Just an observation.”

Perhaps Pa was right.  Perhaps I was making too much out of Wilson’s luncheon companion.  The last person I thought I’d see before I made it home was the man who had accused my brother of such a ridiculous crime.  Maybe I’d read too many books, too many mysteries.  Of course, Joe would have a heyday with such material.  After reading all those dime novels, he’d come up with a scenario that turned out twice as outlandish as my feeble thoughts might allow.

But Joe was like that.  He had an imagination that wouldn’t quit.  Practicality slipped out the front door when inspiration took over.  Without blinking an eye, he could make up the most ridiculous story, and make the damn thing believable.  We’d all fallen for his tall tales at one point or another.  We’d all been fooled by the manipulative way his mind worked.  I’m not saying he was a devious person, but he was good at projecting life into something the rest of us thought was rubbish but important to him.  The boy could smell it and taste it, and soon his weary partner could too.  Though there wasn’t a bird in sight, if he said he heard one chirping, his companion could hear it too.  

I never understood how convincing he could be.  It was a talent I didn’t possess, nor did Hoss, but Joe had that underlying power of persuasion.  Although I’ve gotten way off track, if he’d been with me at Poppy’s, I wonder what he’d have to say about Mort and his young companion?

When I stood from the dining room table, two sets of eyes clamped down on me.  

“Ain’t you even gonna have dessert, Adam.”

“Not tonight, Brother.  I’ve had a long day.”

Because I hadn’t mentioned stopping by the prison, I could easily ride back down sometime this week.  Playing the part of Joe’s lawyer had gone well, and I could pull it off again.  If I let the beard grow, I’d look more distinguished, more like a prominent attorney coming to see his client.  I didn’t know whether Joe could help me figure things out or not, but it was sure worth a try.  

Chapter 3:  Joe

Seeing Adam had made things worse.  I tried not to miss the family, but how could I not?  They were a part of me, people I saw every day, but that life had been taken away.  No more Hop Sing’s dinners.  No more joking with Hoss or trying to fool Adam.  No more of Adam’s snide remarks or Pa’s hand running across my shoulders when I needed that special touch.  All of it was gone and I was alone in the world.

The clothes I’d been given hung on me like rags.  I asked for a piece of rope to keep my trousers from dropping to my ankles, but my request was denied so I tied a knot in the waistband.  It’s the best I could do.  

I assumed life would become easier over the next few weeks and months.  Once I grew accustomed to the routine and learned how to play the game, maybe I wouldn’t miss my home and family so much.  The sooner I became institutionalized, the better off I’d be.

When I lay back on my cot, my cellmate, Tommy Lee, had already begun snoring louder than a bawling steer.  Every night he lay flat on his back and that annoying rumbling sound nearly shook the ten-inch-thick sandstone walls.  Hoss would have a boatload of competition if he tried to out-snore the huge sonovabitch I’d spend the next ten years living with. 

After tucking my hands behind my head, I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t stop thinking of the Ponderosa and all it had to offer.  The rides Cooch and I would take and the daredevil stunts we would perform when no one was watching.  I loved that dang horse more than anything, and I missed him as much as my family.

I needed sleep.  Tomorrow would come soon enough, and I’d be back in the quarry hammering sandstone into smaller pieces.  I knew there was a purpose, but I didn’t much care.  If I could bide my time and stay alive, it would be a miracle.  I’d already seen one man killed, and I didn’t want to be next.  

No one played by the rules.  The guards would come up with a new set of orders as they went along.  I tried to abide.  I tried to keep my mouth shut, but it wasn’t my nature to let things go.  I wasn’t that type of person.  Challenging people who got in my way was more my style.  I usually found a way around authority.  It’s not that I never got caught, but I was cleverer than most. 

By morning, I hoped Adam would make another appearance as my lawyer.  He had plenty of work to do on the ranch, but I knew my situation was on his mind.  Pa had done everything possible to change the course of my incarceration, but he’d had no luck.  If Adam could convince Mr. Wilson to tell him who really robbed his bank, I’d be home before Thanksgiving.  Watching the leaves turn gold and red from a jail cell wasn’t my idea of an exciting life.

Wilson’s only relative was his wife, Marion.  They’d never had children.  He didn’t have brothers or sisters in town, so who was he protecting?  Pa was possibly his best friend.  He attended most social events and he ran a decent bank so why me?  Why had he fingered me for the robbery?

Chapter 4:  Hoss

Adam filled me in.  He gave me more information than he gave Pa and thought we could work together to save Little Joe.  If we failed, Pa wouldn’t have to know and wouldn’t have to repeat a bad chapter in his life.

Since Wilson knew Pa and Adam better’n he knew me, I would keep on his tail and see what a normal day looked like for the banker.  Adam wanted to see Joe again but thought he should wait a few days.  Big Brother grew a beard, and I chuckled when he told me the reason.  Distinguished?  Maybe so.  I didn’t pay much attention to that kind of thing.

After breakfast, I saddled Chubb and made my way into town.  Standing around waiting for Wilson to come out of the bank would make for a long day, and it reminded me of another bank robbery when Joe had me on lookout.  I also remember the pretty little gal who marched by me more than once.  She saved me from total boredom.  Maybe it would happen again.

There was a bright spot across the street from the bank.  The sun was warm, but the air was cool this time of year.  Though most Old-timers called it Indian Summer, and even though we were heading into winter, autumn seemed to hold promise.  I enjoyed the cooler days and bright blue skies.   No doubt my favorite time of year.

By lunchtime I was starving, and I hoped Mr. Wilson wasn’t one of those miserly bankers who brought their lunch to work.  A decent lunch would carry me through to dinner, but if that wasn’t the case, I’d be as grouchy as a mama bear whose cubs were on the wrong side of the creek.  

When Mort Wilson came out the front door of his bank, he started up the boardwalk and then slipped into the millinery shop.  Was he buying his wife a hat rather than eating lunch?  My dream of a juicy steak and a mountain of potatoes was beginning to fade.  I leaned against an upright and waited … and waited.  After an hour’s time, I strolled by the millinery first, then the bank, glanced through the front window, and saw the banker.  How the heck had I missed him?  I’d kept a watchful eye.  Adam wouldn’t like this at all.

I should’ve ridden home but I was so disgusted with my day of watching and learning nothing, I headed to the Bucket of Blood for a cold one.  Johnny Oldman, the guy who pocketed my father’s money was trying his luck with some of the hands from the Circle C.  I leaned my back against the bar and watched the goings on.  The young man lost repeatedly, but he never ran out of cash.  Was he spending my father’s hard-earned money?  At the rate he was going, that little chunk of change would’ve vanished a long time ago, which made me wonder.  How did a young foreman come up with so much money that losing hand after hand wasn’t a problem?

It was time to ride home. Since it took me all day to pick up the mail, Pa would have himself all worked up for nothing.  Maybe Adam could figure all this out.  The only thing I managed to do was come up with more questions than answers.

Chapter 5:  Joe

Though I tried to do as Adam asked, I failed miserably.  I’d become fodder for the best sport inside prison walls, but I was slow to catch on.  I let the other inmates goad me until I threw the first punch and would end up in the sweatbox for at least twenty-four hours. I didn’t know misery until a guard named Simpler pushed me inside and locked the iron door for the first time.  

The metal box was a teaching tool, but it proved worthless.  I had more cuts and bruises than any man deserved, but nothing had been broken, nothing had been cut off.  When a man named Ralph was a newcomer, he’d lost his right ear.  It was an odd look, and I didn’t want to look like Ralph.  Besides, every man has goals, and mine was to keep both ears firmly attached.  

Men died in the box.  If an inmate was left for more than a day in the boiling sun, the metal became too hot to lean against, which made the 6’x6’x6’ confinement even smaller.  I’m not a big man, and I endured my day and night, but a larger man like Hoss wouldn’t fare as well.

This brings me back to the family and how much I needed my brother.  Hoss was my best friend, my confidante.  He knew my life inside and out.  If I slipped into a melancholy mood, he’d find ways to cheer me up and make life fun again, but prison changed the game.  Melancholy set in the day the gates closed behind me, and Hoss wasn’t around to help.  I wasn’t sure how long I could hold my own without him.

“Okay, Cartwright.  You did your time.”

After twenty-four hours of isolation, my head swam, and my legs were useless.  I crawled across loose dirt and out of the box.  When I tried to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight, Simpler grabbed my hands and slapped a set of cuffs on my wrists.  He pushed me ahead of him, and I stumbled along as if I had a snootful, but I could only dream of that frothy beer that made men stumble and crawl.  It would be ten long years before I stepped inside a saloon and ordered myself a cold one.

The guard threw his weight around like a bully.  I’d never forget the name, Simpler; he did his job well.  The inmates had given him nicknames that weren’t too kind, but they fit like a glove.  He was a heartless man, cruel and vicious, and gave prison guards a bad name.  Some said he’d worked for the penal system for nearly twenty years.  A job like that puts a lot of miles on a man.  Maybe he wasn’t caged like the rest of us, but he walked the same halls and ate the same grub.  He only left the grounds once a week, and he was only gone for a day.  He was nearly as institutionalized as the inmates he ordered around.

Simpler was quick to take his anger out on anyone within reach, and I was an easy target.  When he grabbed the back of my shirt, I coughed and choked, and reached for my throat.  He was mad about something, and it didn’t seem to matter what had upset him, but I stopped in my tracks.  With nothing to eat or drink for twenty-four hours, I didn’t have enough energy to fight him off.  And, if I tried something that stupid, I’d be back in the box.

When his right knee connected with the small of my back, I tumbled to my hands and knees, and the coughing continued until I gagged and tasted blood.  Maybe I bit my tongue or the side of my cheek.  I wasn’t sure, but Simpler wasn’t done with me.  After pulling me to my feet, he found humor in my discomfort.   When he led me toward the door and shoved me into the stone wall, his laughter expanded so everyone could hear.  The gash on my forehead bled, but I held my tongue.  Turning and facing the guard head-on would’ve earned me more time in the box.  Even though I fought through my cowardly attitude, I was learning how to play the game.

Tommy Lee shook his head when Simpler shoved me inside our cell.  “Hands, Boy.”  He’d shut the cell door and I slid my hands through the bars so he could uncuff my wrists, but he had other plans.  He took the cuff off my left wrist and rather than doing the same with the right, he clamped the cuff shut around a bar halfway up the door, and that’s how I would stay until morning.  Standing.

Chapter 6:  Hoss

Pa knew something was up.  Me and Adam had been to town more than usual, but he didn’t ask questions.  I figure he knew what we was up to and he’d turned a blind eye.  That left me and Adam to do whatever we could to bring Little Joe home.

When I told Big Brother about that mercantile business, his suspicions grew.  Mort Wilson was hiding something and me and Adam thought we knew the sordid details, but we didn’t have no proof.  Nothing about his private life made him a bank robber.  We needed that connection and so far, we didn’t have a clue.

After breakfast, Hop Sing handed over his list and me and Adam rode into town again.  The early morning air was cool, but by noon we’d be telling a different story.  Though the calendar said October, the days were still warm, but winter would be upon us soon.  I sure didn’t want Joe to have to spend them winter months in prison.  I couldn’t think of anything worse.

After loading Hop Sing’s supplies, I took my post across from the bank while Adam walked into the millinery on the pretense of buying a gift for a lady friend.  It was noon straight up and we was hoping for a repeat of Wilson’s luncheon date, but that wasn’t the case.  Rather than walk out with nothing, Adam spent $1.19 on a silly item he didn’t need.  

While he shelled out hard-earned money, I was hot on the tail of Wilson who’d headed in the opposite direction down the boardwalk.  How many women could one man have?  I wasn’t exactly jealous, more like shocked, I guess.  Mort wasn’t nowhere close to a lady’s man.  He didn’t have much hair on his head.  Besides being pasty white, he was plenty thick around the middle.  He just weren’t the type to have women throwing themselves in his direction.  That was my little brother, not the banker.

When Wilson ducked into an alley, I wasn’t sure what to do.  If I followed, I’d be easy to spot.  The boardwalks were crowded, and I could be heading somewhere important, but a vacant alley?  Not so much.

I waited a minute then casually stepped off the boardwalk and glanced down the alley as I continued forward.  Not only was Mort Wilson trying to hide behind a wooden crate, but so was Johnny Oldman, the poker player with easy money.  I had several thoughts, but Adam and I needed to talk before I got too excited.

““`

“That’s all well and good, Hoss, but we still don’t have any proof.”  

“Maybe it’s time to run it past Pa.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

““`

Every day my brother sat in that prison was a day too long.  The leaves were changing colors.  There was a chill in the air.  The holidays weren’t far away, and Little Joe wasn’t with us.  I hoped Pa wouldn’t make us celebrate this year.  I don’t think any of us was in the mood for frills and gaiety.  

After supper, Adam and I gave Pa all the information we’d come by so far.  Mort and his young luncheon companion.  Mort and Johnny in the alley.  What did it all mean?  

“You got any thoughts, Pa?”

“I have the same thoughts you do, Son, but what does it prove?  Mort might be having an affair, but that doesn’t mean he robbed his own bank.  That only means he’s being untrue to his wife.”

“What if that little gal is demanding cash for her services?”

“You think she’s a prostitute?”

“That ain’t exactly what I said, but can’t a woman want more than a man’s expected to give?”

“I see what you’re saying, but Mort’s not a poor man.  Taking a woman to lunch now and then wouldn’t break him.  Maybe we need to find out more about the young lady?  Do either of you know her?”

“She’s new to these parts.  Got a job at Rose Aragon’s millinery as soon as she hit town.”  

“Maybe Rose would have some answers.”

Adam had been awful quiet.  “What do you think, Brother?”

“What Pa says makes sense.  I’ll check her out tomorrow.”

“I’ll take my regular post across from the bank.  Somethin’s gotta give soon, Adam.  We can’t do this forever.”

Chapter 7:  Joe

Tommy Lee slid my cot close to the bars that night.  I couldn’t lay down, but at least I could sit rather than stand.  It’s funny who became an ally, and who was out to make life miserable.  When I was placed inside the cell, I’ll admit Tommy Lee scared me some.  I’d heard prison stories, and Tommy outweighed me by a hundred pounds.  He could do a lot of damage if he felt the urge.  Luckily, he took my side from the start.  

Simpler had singled me out as someone he could manipulate.  If I said nothing, I was screwed.  If I fought back, I was screwed even worse.  Tommy Lee Mercer sympathized with my dilemma and did what he could when no one was looking.  Like dragging the cot to the cell door.  He’d have it moved back in place before the guards started a new day.  When Simpler stopped in front of our cell the following morning, he found me leaning against the bars and assumed I’d stayed on my feet all night.

“Have a good night’s sleep. Boy?”

“Just fine, Sir.”

“That’s good.”

Even though I’d had a bed to sit on, I didn’t sleep much with my head crushing against metal.  I hoped it was time to remove the cuffs, but I should’ve paid more attention to Simpler’s mood.  The onery sonovabitch slammed my wrists with his Billy Club and smiled when I screamed.  If my wrists were broken, I wouldn’t know for ten years.  The infirmary was set up for the dying, not men with minor injuries like busted bones.

The cuffs were removed, and the cell door was opened so Tommy Lee and I could walk down the corridor with the other inmates and eat worm-infested gruel before heading outside to hammer sandstone.  

Dusk never came soon enough.  The days were long and today would be worse than most.  The strength in my wrists was gone.  Could I even hold a hammer?  If I didn’t keep up with the others, I’d be punished until I was able to carry on.  A few more days in the iron box, and I’d be done in.  A man could only take so much.  A man needed hope, and I was beginning to lose faith that I’d ever have a future without bars.

Adam hadn’t been back to visit.  No Hoss.  No Pa.  They’d gone ahead with their lives.  The ranch was a busy place, and I understood why there wasn’t time to delve into my troubles.  The judge had seen fit to send me here.  He knew what this place was like, and he probably realized I’d never return home.

With chains on our ankles, we marched single file to the pits of hell where I’d spend every day for the rest of my life.  When I picked up my sledge, it took all my power to lift it above my head and break the rocks at my feet.  I’d never last all day.  Simpler had done quite a number on my wrists and my swing was too weak to break stone.   It wouldn’t take long before someone realized I wasn’t doing my share.

“Cartwright!”

I heard someone shout, but I didn’t stop swinging the twenty-pound hammer. 

“Hey.  You!  Cartwright!”

I stopped and turned to find Simpler’s flunky, Jimmy Coons, heading down into the pit.

“Get moving, Cartwright.  Someone wants to see you.”

Oh, God.  Could it be Adam?  Did he have news?  I dropped my sledge on the ground and started up the hill.  My mood had flipped so fast, I could feel my heartbeat.  Adam had news.  It had to be good, or he wouldn’t have come all this way.  By now, he’d have a full beard.  In a year’s time, I couldn’t grow anything that resembled my brother’s mass of facial hair.  Adam the Cartwright’s attorney.  I couldn’t wait to see him.

Although the chains hindered my movements, I scurried up the hill and met Coons at the top.  Everyone carried a shotgun, and he was no exception.

“Courtyard, Cartwright.  Move.”

It seemed like a roundabout way of getting to the conference room, but Coons must’ve had his reasons, and I marched straight through the narrow gateway leading to the center of the prison where I stopped cold.

There wasn’t any Adam.  I’d let myself believe the best in people, and I was wrong.  Simpler stood next to the iron box.  He smiled when he saw me coming.

“Sorry, Cartwright.  Just following orders.”

“That’s okay, Jimmy.  I should’ve known.”

“If it ain’t my favorite inmate.”

I stood in front of my nemesis.  “What’d I do this time, Simpler?”

“You ain’t keeping up, Boy.  You know the rules.  Slackers spend time in the box.”

“I wasn’t—”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing what?”

“Nothing, Sir.”

Coons unlocked the chains from my ankles and gave me a quick nod as if apologizing for having to do the tasks his boss ordered him to do.  Simpler wasted no time.  He grabbed my shirt at the shoulder and shoved me inside, slammed the door shut, and turned the key in the lock.  

“Think about your transgressions, Boy.  There ain’t no freeloadin’ in prison.  Not even for rich kids whose daddy owns half of Nevada.  All of Papa’s money ain’t doing you any good now, is it?”

Chapter 8:  Adam

I always enjoyed the ride down to Carson.  Stately pines covered each side of the road and were always alive with songbirds and God’s little critters that circled trees and bushes for seeds and berries.  They never minded my passing through.  I kept to myself, and they did too.

The ride was different now.  There was no joy, only thoughts of my young brother and how he was coping in his new environment.  Joe could be a hothead, and that worried us all.  This time, I had good news.  We had a theory, a good theory.  Not enough proof to overturn the conviction, but we were closing in.  I wanted Joe to know the latest results.

“Addison Carter,” I said to the man at the gate.  “Mr. Cartwright’s attorney.”

“I remember, Sir.”  He pulled the gate open and let me pass.

I tipped my sleek new bowler at the gatekeeper.  I looked like a dandy, and I was anxious to see the look on my brother’s face.  Hopefully, he wouldn’t blow my cover, but he might have a good, silent laugh.

At the next stopping point, the guard held me for only a minute before escorting me to the warden’s office.  After a moment of courteous chitchat, the warden had his man, Rudy, take me down to the conference room.  He sent for Carl, his number two man to bring Joe up from the quarry.

I sat at a wooden table and waited.  And waited.  What could possibly take so long?  I heard hammers cracking rock as I was led to the warden’s office.  The quarry wasn’t that far away, just down the hill between the prison walls and the prison cemetery.  After nearly half an hour, I stood and rapped on the conference door.  

“I don’t have all day.  Is Mr. Cartwright coming or not?”

“I’ll see what I can do, Sir.”

Rudy left to find Joe, but I could only hear his footsteps.  I didn’t know which direction he went.  Locked inside the conference room, I was as much a prisoner as anyone.  I couldn’t leave.  I couldn’t see outside or even down the hall.  After sitting alone for less than an hour, I started to feel what Joe must feel every day of his life.  

The sense of abandonment was overwhelming, and an acute taste of despondency filtered through me.  I had no way to prevent it from happening.  I held my hands out and studied my correctly shaped fingernails.  How would a man deal with silly things like fingernails in a place like this?

I rubbed my hands over my face to clear the craziness from my mind.  I was the smart one, the steady one, and I had to be strong for Joe.  I couldn’t let my mind wander.  I came to do a job, to fill Joe in, not fall into some dark hole I couldn’t climb out of.  

That’s enough.  I was tired of waiting and moved toward the door.  I knocked as loud as I could.  The sound was hollow, heard by only me.  Though I wanted to yell, I didn’t.  They’d think I was some sort of lunatic if I began screaming and cursing.  If they forgot about me, how long would I be locked in this hell hole, waiting?

Out of frustration, I leaned back against the wall.  Soon after, I heard footsteps.  “Hey!  Let me out of here!”  As I anticipated freedom, a key turned in the lock and Rudy was back.  “Finally.  What’s going on?  Where’s Cartwright.”

“Um … there’s been a problem.  The warden will explain.”

I followed Rudy down the stone walkway. “Where’s Carl?  What’s happened to Cartwright?”

“The warden will explain.”

He’d said that twice now.  Rudy wasn’t talking.  Patience was a virtue, and I was a patient man, but my patience was slipping away.  Today, I felt like my young brother although I could keep my tongue.  Could he?

Warden Curry stood behind his mahogany desk when I walked into his office.  “Have a seat, Mr. Carter.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Your client is indisposed.”

“What do you mean, indisposed?  Is Mr. Cartwright ill?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what seems to be the problem?”

“In an institution like this, we must maintain control over the inmates.  If one gets out of hand, his actions can cause a disruption throughout.  One bad egg—you know the saying.”

“Go on.”

“Some men settle in without any persuasion at all, and some don’t seem to conform.   Your client needs more attention than most.  Discipline is the key, Mr. Carter.”

“I assume my client’s infraction was minimal.”

“Not exactly.  Mr.  Simpler, one of our more qualified guards, has found Mr. Cartwright incorrigible.”

“Incorrigible?  That’s not the man I know.” 

“The bottom line is that you won’t be seeing your client today.  Perhaps next week.”

“Next week?”  I sat back in my chair and tried to think.  “If my client is being punished now, may I see him this afternoon?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Carter.  Joe Cartwright has been put in the box and won’t be coming out for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Excuse me.  The box?”

“Isolation.  The iron box is a 6’x6’x6’ structure in the center of the courtyard.  Most men cope with little or no discomfort.”

“Most?”

“There are always exceptions.”

What the hell had the kid done to deserve a punishment like that?  “Show me.”

“I can show you the box, but I can’t allow contact with your client while his attitude is being adjusted.”

Attitude adjustment?  An odd term, but I knew not to argue the point.  God knows, I didn’t want Joe to be punished for something I said, but something was way out of kilter.  Joe promised he’d keep out of trouble, and the kid rarely broke a promise.  I’d return in two days and if my brother wasn’t free, there’d be hell to pay.

Chapter 9:  Joe

Curled in a fetal position on hardpacked ground, I breathed in stale, hot air, and prayed for the end to come.  Whether I prayed for the end of my life or the end of the punishment, I wasn’t sure.  I wouldn’t last much longer.  Sweating during the day and freezing at night didn’t do a man much good.  Neither did loneliness.  That was the worst, and that’s what bothered me the most.

I loved my family, and I enjoyed my friends.  I needed those people to make my life worthwhile, but everyone had been taken from me.  I suppose that was the whole idea.  Remove a man’s previous life, stick him in a damn box, and see what happens.  

Maybe I already knew how the story would end.  Nothing good came from isolating a man and turning him into an animal.  I didn’t feel human, and I’d been an inmate for less than a month.  What the hell would I be like after ten years?  Would I be recognized by the outside world?  Would my family want the old Joe back, or could they live with the man I’d become?

Those are the thoughts that occupied a man’s mind when he was left alone to think and dream and lose his mind.  I lay in my own filth.  There was no chamber pot and handing me food was a game Simpler liked to play.  

“Should I feed him today?”  Laughter.

“Should I water the filthy animal?”  Laughter.

As a prisoner, it wouldn’t be wise to respond, and I kept my thoughts to myself, but the taunt today hit me harder than most. 

“Saw your attorney today, Cartwright.”

I rolled my eyes.  

“Warden wouldn’t let him see you.”

I found that hard to believe.  The way I understood things, a lawyer always had the right to see his client.  Adam would never let that happen.  He knew the law as well as anyone, and he knew right from wrong.  Adam was the smartest guy I knew, and I trusted him to work like the devil to get me out of this place.  He’d never leave the prison without seeing me.

Chapter 10:  Hoss

“If I hadn’t seen them with my own eyes, I wouldn’t be sayin’ nothing, but Johnny Oldman’s been taking money regular-like from old man Wilson.  At twelve o’clock straight up, they meet in the alley next to the bank, and Wilson hands over the cash.  Last three days, Big Brother, and I’ll bet you a cold one it’ll happen again today.”

“Do you know how much?”

“No.  I couldn’t see that good, but I seen greenbacks changin’ hands.”

“It only means one thing.  Our banker is paying Johnny off.  Seems to me that Oldman knows something Mort doesn’t want anyone else to know.”

“Yeah, but what?”

“First of all, that little princess he’s been taking out to lunch.  I bet Johnny threatened to tell Marion.”

“Marion?”

“Mrs. Wilson.”

“Oh, yeah.  Did you tell Pa about Joe?”

“No.”

“You gonna?”

“No.”  Adam slid his hand across my shoulder.  He wasn’t one to keep secrets and neither was I, but these were special times.  “You know what that would do to Pa?  His son immobilized in an iron box?  No, he doesn’t need to know everything.”

“Guess that’s okay for now.”

“Why don’t you saddle the horses.  We need to get to town.”

Adam was right.  We had to be in position before noon, but then what?  Staring at Wilson paying off Johnny Oldman wasn’t helping Joe at all.  Even though we didn’t know much, should we tell Roy?  Hiram?  I didn’t know the law like my brother.

Money changed hands just before Wilson picked up his lady-friend.  Adam and me both saw it this time. Right after the exchange, we scurried down to Poppy’s Café hoping Mort and his little gal would entertain us with their appearance.  Since the banker knew Adam, my brother sat with his back to the rest of the patrons.  I sat across from him and was his eyes.  The couple didn’t disappoint.

“I have an idea,” Adam said after we were served lunch.

I broke a piece of bread in half and looked up at my brother.  “You gonna let me in on it?”

“Maybe it’s time to run a bluff.”

“What kinda bluff?”

“What have we got?  Bits and pieces but nothing that will get Joe out of prison.  What if I make Wilson think that Roy and I have much more?”

“Is it legal to lie like that?”

“I’m not under oath.”

“I like the way you think, Big Brother.”

“Good.  I want you with me.”

Surprised, I furrowed my brow at my brother.  “Me?”

“Yep.  It never hurts to have a little muscle in the room.”

No one said Adam was stupid, but I hoped he knew what he was doing.  I tried to think of all the ways his bluff could backfire and cause even bigger problems for Joe.

“Let’s go down to the Sazerac and grab a glass of courage.”

“I’m right there with you, Adam.”

Chapter 11:  Joe

Twilight.  The day’s going fast now.  The barren landscape offers nothing of beauty or privilege.  People used to say I was privileged, that I had everything handed to me on a silver platter.  That I didn’t work for a living.  That I loafed my way through life and that Papa paid for everything.  That wasn’t how it worked on the Ponderosa, but no one cared to hear the real story.  

People cheer when the good guy fails, or when the wealthy fall from grace.  My family had been fortunate, but our wealth came from hard work and constant attention to the land.  We were a family of four, and we didn’t think we could be broken, but when power lands in the wrong hands, all is lost.  I was lost and feared I’d never be found.

I was dying.  It was a slow death, but the flame had vanished, the spirit of Joe Cartwright had left, and I felt hollow inside.  It was difficult to explain, but I lost all hope.  Could I fight long enough or hard enough to save my life?  Not when I was outnumbered and didn’t have my brothers to watch my back.

Maybe I was wrong.  Maybe I’d been privileged all my life and wasn’t aware, but I was beginning to see how living without friends or family left a man singled out to be attacked or beaten or thrown in an iron box when he was guilty of nothing but being a loner in a strange place.  

Chapter 12:  Adam

When Hoss and I walked into the bank that afternoon, I tried to play it cool.  While Hoss studied the pretty girls at the Sazerac, I ran the bluff over in my head.  If we were successful, Joe had a chance.  If I blew it, Wilson would be onto us and use more caution going forward, and we’d never prove a thing.

“Good afternoon, Adam, Hoss.  What can I do for you?”

Jason Cory was a combination of accountant, loan manager, and greeter.  “I’d like to see Mr. Wilson if I may.”

“One moment.”

Cory dashed across the room and knocked just below the door’s brass plaque that spelled in bold print—MORT WILSON:  BANK PRESIDENT—and in no time I was seated in front of his desk while Hoss hovered by the door.  

“What can I do for you boys.”  Business as usual.  His greeting seemed bold for the man who’d sent my brother to prison.“Did your father send you?” 

“No, Sir.  My father doesn’t know we’re here although I’m sure he would approve of our visit.”

“Go on.  What can I do for you?”

“My brother and I are through playing games, Mort.  Now that we know the truth, I want my young brother home where he belongs.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Johnny Oldman.  Does that ring a bell?  Johnny Oldman?”

“I’m sorry.  I don’t believe we’re acquainted.”

“I believe you are, and I believe you’re paying him a tidy sum for his silence.”

“Silence?  Surely you’re not serious?”

Hoss leaned forward.  He didn’t waste time with liars, but he needed to hold back for now.  “I’m serious, Mort.  My brother has been watching.  He’s seen money change hands.”

“That means nothing, Adam.  I gave the young lad some much-needed cash.”

“How many days in a row?  You’re a banker.  You’ve never made a habit of helping charity cases.  It’s time to rethink what you want to say next.  I’d like to hear your story before I offer our information to Sheriff Coffee.”

“That bumbling sheriff wouldn’t know the truth from a lie.”

“Let’s go with the truth then, Mort.  Why did you frame my brother?  Was that Johnny’s idea?”  

“Don’t be silly, Adam.”

“How about the young lady you’ve been sleeping with?  Does Marion know?  Would you rather discuss the woman instead of the payoff?”

Mort slapped his palms on his desk and stood from his chair.  “Enough.  You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I stood and stared the man in the eye.  “I know who robbed the bank, and it wasn’t my little brother, was it, Mort?”

“I saw him with my own eyes.  I know it was him.  I testified, Adam.”

“Where’s the money, Mort?  In a safe-deposit box or did you hide it at home?  Are you paying the young woman for services rendered?”

“I’ll have you know; I don’t have to pay women to sleep with me.”

“So, the two of you are sleeping together.  Does Marion know?  Have you asked your wife for a divorce?  Is she willing?”

Mort pointed to the door.  “Get out!”

I turned to Hoss.  “Let’s go see what Mrs. Wilson has to say.”

“That’s a fine idea, Brother.”

“Why are you doing this, Adam?”

With fire in my eyes, I glared at the banker.  “Because you framed Little Joe, and I want him home.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand very well.  Johnny pulled my brother into a poker game he should’ve stayed away from.  He found a way to render Joe of two thousand dollars, my father’s money.  That was your idea, wasn’t it, Mort?  You knew what would happen.  Desperation does funny things to a man.  Joe had to find two thousand dollars before our father found out, and what could be more convenient than robbing a bank?

“The little lady likes fine things, doesn’t she?  She demands items you can’t afford.  Diamonds maybe?  Emeralds?  Whatever she needed, you wanted to provide, and what other way than to rob your own bank?

“Tell me I’m lying.  Tell me I made the story up, that you’re an upright citizen with morals so high, you could never do anything of the kind.  Tell me how it really is, Mort.”

The banker fell into his chair and hid his face with both hands.  He sobbed like a baby.  I turned and motioned Hoss to get the sheriff.  Part truth, part bluff, but it worked like magic.  The gears of justice were turning, and it was only a matter of time before Joe would be released.

Chapter 13:  Joe

I tried to walk, but my legs were useless.  Simpler called his man, Coons, over to help.  “Grab his arm,” he said.  “Damn boy’s legs dun gone out from under him.”

“What the hell did you do to this boy?”

“Nothing much.”

“You tied him, didn’t you?  You hogtied him inside that box.”

“So, what if I did?  He ain’t nothing but a rich kid that needs taken down a peg.”

“Rich kid or not.  Don’t mean you have to torture him for two days.  That’s a lousy thing to do.”

“Listen, Coons.  I used to work for his daddy.  His deep voice meant business, and he prided himself on hiring guys like me to do all the hard work.”

“Why’d you stay?”

“Why does anyone stay?  I needed the money, but I noticed things.  I noticed a young man riding a horse I could never afford.  I noticed his clothes, finer than anything I’d ever own.  That was the oldest son.  There were two younger boys, pampered by the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.  Blonde and petite with a southern drawl, she looked down her nose at men like me.  I was nothing but a simple ranch hand, a transient, not the owner of a big spread like Cartwright.”

“That don’t mean—”

“Shut up, Coons, or I’ll stick you in the box for mouthing off to a superior.”  

Their bickering ended, but I got the gist of the story.  There was nothing wrong with my ears.  Simpler hated everything about me and my family.  My life in this hell hole would never improve.  If anything, things could get a helluva lot worse.

Chapter 14:  Ben

“He’s where?”

“Me and Adam ain’t fooling, Pa.  Roy hauled him right down to the jail and locked him behind bars.  He’s contacting Judge Mahoney, and he’ll let us know when to expect him.”

“You mean Mort robbed his own bank?”

“That’s right, Pa.  Adam hammered him ‘til he broke down in tears.  That’s when I left to get the sheriff, but it was all Adam.”  With pride in his eyes, my son clapped his older brother’s shoulder.  “He done it all by hisself.  He’s the dang smartest guy I know.”

I winked at my eldest son.  “You’re absolutely right, Hoss.  I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Adam rolled his eyes.  He never learned to accept compliments with grace.  I was proud of him, though, proud of all my sons, but this was Adam’s night, and the miracle I’d been praying for seemed closer at hand.

Roy paid us a visit the following morning.  Hoss had met him in the yard, and they walked inside together.  “Cup of coffee, Roy?”

“Think I will, Ben.”

Adam bounded down the stairs as though he were ten years younger, and the four of us sat at the dining room table.  “Is the judge on his way?”  

“Not yet.  He has a trial beginning tomorrow but said he’ll mark his calendar and come as soon as possible.”

My heart raced, and I worried my hands until I realized how silly I was being.  I expected Little Joe would be home by the end of the week, but that was wishful thinking.  Like I’d always warned my sons, don’t count your chickens …  and that’s just what I’d done.  I wanted my boy home, under my roof is where he belonged, not in the state prison.  

“I want to go see Joe.”

“Pa … ”

Adam’s furrowed brow irritated me.  “What?”

“Let me go instead.”

“Just because you’ve been playacting for the last couple of weeks doesn’t mean you should go, and I should stay home.”

“I don’t mean any disrespect, but I know Joe.”

“Better than I?”

“Let me finish, Pa.  I know how he feels.  He’s embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?  Why pray tell?”

“We all know that, but he feels if he hadn’t sat down at that poker table none of this would’ve happened.  Even Joe feels like there’s a connection, but he’s never suspected Mort.  I’d like to give him the good news myself.  Are you okay with that?”

I stood and turned my back to the men in the room.  Did Adam know best?  Was I nothing but a jealous old man?  How had it come to this?  How had life become so complicated?  For what it’s worth, I gave in to my son’s wishes.  He would go to the prison in my stead and report back to me.

Chapter 15:  Adam

I dressed in my finest attire and adjusted the little black derby square on my head.  It didn’t take much to transform from Adam Cartwright to Addison Carter.  So far, no one had been the wiser.  Hopefully, this would be my last visit before we all rode down to bring Joe home.  With the holidays drawing near, I wanted to hurry along the process.

After making it through the front gate, I was escorted to the warden’s office, and I was halfway there.  A walk to the conference room and I could tell Joe the good news.

“Good morning, Mr. Carter.”

In friendly greeting, I offered my hand.  “Warden.”  I didn’t know how long Curry had been in Nevada, but he still carried a New York accent when he spoke.  It reminded me of my college days, but I was getting off track.  I had a job to do.  “I’ve come to see my client.  I hope he’s recovered and ready to meet with me.”

“Let’s see what we can do.  That young man can’t seem to follow the rules.  He’s been punished more than any first-time inmate I’ve ever known.”

“I’m confused by that, Warden.  What exactly has this young fella done?”

“According to Able Simpler, the guard on Cartwright’s wing, he’s rebellious, defiant, disruptive.  The list goes on and on.  The young man can’t seem to take instruction without mouthing off and causing problems.  We can’t have unruly inmates in a place like this or all hell would break out.”  

“I understand what you’re saying about having trouble behind these walls, but it’s hard for me to believe that young Cartwright is that much of a troublemaker.”

“I assure you, Mr. Carter.  The boy is an annoyance.  The sooner he settles down and learns to obey the rules, the better off he’ll be.”

“May I see him now?”

As Rudy escorted me to the conference room, a tall, heavyset man passed us in the narrow corridor, but when I glanced at him, something hit me.  An ancient memory, but who and when?  Why would I know a prison guard?  To the best of my knowledge, I didn’t know anyone of the kind, and I let the matter drop.  I had other things on my mind and figuring out strangers wasn’t on my list.

This time, Joe was waiting at one of the wooden tables.  Though his wrists and ankles were chained, he smiled when he saw me enter the room.  I sat down across from him and reached for both fisted hands.  “Good to see you.”

“Same here, broth—Mr. Lawyer.”

I smiled at Joe’s mistake but there was no one around to hear his blunder.  Too many of those and we’d both be behind bars.  “You doing okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“I was here the other day, but you were having an attitude adjustment.

“Is that what it’s called?  If so, I’ve spent half my time adjusting my attitude.”

My brow creased at that remark.  “What?”

“Ask Simpler.  He’ll tell you what a rotten character I am.”

“Who?”

“The guard that has it out for me.”

“Did you say Simpler?”

“Yeah.  What about him?”

“Nothing.  The name sounded familiar.  That’s all.” 

“It should.  He used to work for Pa.”

“Simpler.  Able Simpler.”

“Yep.  That’s him.”

After Joe’s admission, I knew exactly who the man was, and my mind drifted back fifteen, maybe twenty years. The Ponderosa was a lot smaller then.  Hoss did a heap of chores for a youngster his age, but Joe was just a baby, still wearing a dress and keeping his mother busy, but something … something happened one day and my father and Marie … I never could make things out, but there’d been trouble that was never talked about again.   

“Hey.  You’re a thousand miles away, Mr. Lawyer.”

“Sorry, Joe.”  I’d worry about Simpler later.  “I came for a reason, and I think you’ll like what I have to say.”

“Oh yeah?  Something worthwhile this time?”

“Definitely.  It’s only a matter of time before the judge changes the verdict to not guilty.”

“Yeah right.  Maybe you see a fairytale with a happy ending, but I don’t.”

“What if I told you Mort Wilson was behind bars.”

“I’d say your fairytale sounded stranger than fiction.”

“Believe me, Joe.  The happy little banker confessed to everything.  With help from Johnny Oldman, Wilson was able to rob his own bank and blame it on you.”

Joe stared at me like I had two heads.  His mouth moved slightly as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite form the words.

“Wilson is courting a young lady and stepping over the line like that changes a man, can bring him to his knees before he has any idea what went wrong.  After a lifetime of living as a law-abiding citizen, he gives in to the pleasures of life.  His marriage is ruined, and he needs to please a young lady who knows everything about him.  She can demand the world, and he hands it to her on a silver platter.  

“As soon as he crossed that line, his life was ruined.  Wilson will trade places with you, and he’ll be the one who spends the next ten years in prison.  It’s not a fairytale or fiction, Joe.  It’s real.” 

“My, God.”

“We should have you home in a week.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

My brother’s eyes were glassy, but he held his emotions in check.  “May I make a suggestion?”

“Anything.”

“Stay away from Simpler.”  I thought Joe would laugh.  Instead, I saw a young man who feared an older, larger man.  “Joe?”

“Um, yeah.  I’ll do that.”

“Make sure you do.  We can’t have anything get in the way of your release.  Understood?”

“Yeah.  Understood.”

“I better go.  We don’t need anyone to catch on to our scheme now.”

“Sure.  When will I see you again?”

“As soon as the judge hears Wilson’s confession, we’ll all come down to ride home with you.  Sound good?”

“You bet it does.”

I smiled and reached for my brother’s hand.  There was bruising on top of bruising, and he flinched as we shook hands.  God willing, he’d still be alive when we returned to take him home.

Chapter 16:  Joe

If Carl returned me to my cell without detours, I’d be grateful, but that had been wishful thinking.  Simpler stood outside the conference room and waited for Adam to leave.  By the time he thought I’d sat long enough, he popped his head inside. 

“Have a nice chat with your brother?”

“My what?  Guess again, Simpler.”

“I don’t guess at anything, Joe Cartwright.”

The guard grabbed the chain between my wrists and yanked me forward.  “What’s your brother doing parading around like a lawyer?”

There was no sense in lying.  Simpler recognized Adam.  How could he remember that long ago?  The Cartwright name was one thing, but to know my brother scared me.  “He came to tell me something.”

“I’m not stupid, Cartwright.  What did he have to say?”

“He told me to stay out of trouble.”

He yanked the chain again.  “What else?”

“Nothing.  He came to make sure I was okay.”

“You’re lying, Cartwright.  Let’s see if another trip to the box will jog your memory.”

“Not again, Simpler.  I’m done with the box.”

“You’re what?”  Simpler laughed.  He thought I was kidding, but I was serious.  He’d thrown me in that hellhole at least once a week since day one, and I wasn’t going inside again.  Not without a fight.  He didn’t think I was a fighter.  I’d never argued or fought with him before, but I wasn’t going back.  Last time, he hogtied me and left me alone for two days.  No food.  No water.  An animal gets treated better than an inmate named Cartwright.

When Simpler turned the lock in my handcuffs, I figured I’d won the battle, but I’d never been so wrong before.  He pulled my arms behind my back and cuffed me again.  Freedom was never the plan.

I couldn’t fight.  I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop the march to the box.  “How do you know my brother?”

Another hearty laugh.  “Snotnosed kid on a fancy horse.  That’s how I know your brother.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to understand.”

“Then let me go.”

“Sorry, kid.”  He pushed me from behind, hard enough that I lost my balance and landed on my left shoulder.  “Get up, Boy.  I got plans for you.” I rolled onto my knees, but he kicked me, and I landed flat on my belly in the dirt.  “I told you to get on your feet, Boy.” 

I didn’t know how long we’d play the game.  Sometimes it went on forever.  Sometimes not.  When I rolled to my knees a second time, I waited for his boot to connect with my ribs, but it never happened.  Instead, he waited until I stood on both feet to punch me in the stomach and send a left hook to my jaw.  Again, I lay in the dirt, and again I got to my feet.

He unlocked the door and shoved me inside.  I could already feel the heat, and it was only noon.  By three, it would be nearly unbearable, and by ten o’clock tonight, I’d be freezing.

Simpler was a heathen.  To cuff a man’s wrists and beat the crap out of him wasn’t the mark of a decent fighter.  On his own terms, he could win the game and feel like a big man, but he was scum, the worst kind of scum on the planet.   

When he climbed on top of the box, he knocked three times to get my attention.  “Stand up, Cartwright.”  

I didn’t move.  I lay on the dirt floor curled into myself and stared at the metal wall two feet away.  At the top of the box were bars across a footlong opening that let fresh air inside.  It also let in rain or snow, but both were rare this time of year.  “Stand up before I come in and bash your skinny ass.”

I pushed up from the floor.  

“Grab the bars.”

I looked up at Simpler.

“Do you need persuading?”

As I reached for the metal bars, the muscles in my left shoulder screamed in protest, and when he snagged my left wrist and pulled my hand through to the outside, I nearly cried out.  The bars were burning hot and after removing the cuff, he looped it over the center bar and secured the metal manacle back on my wrist.  Like a side of beef, I hung, my toes barely touching the ground.

“Have a nice day, Cartwright.”

The man was insane.  He had no right, but I had fewer rights than anyone.  I couldn’t demand to be heard.  I couldn’t demand to be released.  Since day one, I’d been at the mercy of Amos Simpler, but I was the only inmate he couldn’t stand the sight of.  He had a vendetta against my father, but what could’ve happened to turn a man into such a beast?  

It didn’t take long before both arms ached, and my wrists were raw.  Of course, my wrists hadn’t totally recovered from the Billy Club, and when both legs began to cramp, I’d be in real trouble.  Adam’s good news wasn’t helping me pass the time.  The pain had become too great.

Simpler knew what he was doing.  I’m guessing he’d broken men before, but his crusade to break me had the effect he wanted.  I’d be worthless when I came out of the box, and he’d send me down to the quarry.  I wouldn’t be able to do the work, and I’d be back in the box.  Dying was easy.  Staying alive took everything a man had inside him.

Chapter 17:  Adam

The three of us rode into town for the new trial.  Roy had sent word that the hearing would begin Monday at one o’clock.  We rode in early, had lunch at the International, and were seated in Roy’s office by 12:45.  A day like this only happened once in a lifetime.  Joe’s life depended on Judge Mahoney and a new verdict.  I’d always believed he was an honest man, a fair judge, and I hoped I wasn’t wrong.

I spoke to Pa about Simpler, and though my memory was vague, Pa’s was not.  Every detail of that day was rooted deep in his mind and was never going away.  That didn’t mean he was ready to talk, and I wasn’t ready to push. 

Pa asked how I remembered a man from so long ago, and I felt a lie was deserved this time.  I didn’t want him to know a man like Simpler was anywhere near Little Joe.  He was upset enough without having to deal with ancient memories.

Mort Wilson sat in front of the Judge.  He hung his head in shame and told the whole rotten story.  Mort and my father had been friends for more than ten years.  He and his wife, Marion, had been to our house for supper, and on Christmas Eve when Pa read from the bible.  The man had sunk so low, he was ready to confess everything.

“It all started when Miss Millicent McCarthy walked into my bank and asked for a loan.  I couldn’t grant her a loan without collateral, so I took her to lunch to soften the blow.  I won’t go into detail, but my expenses became overwhelming.  She was a very demanding woman.  I didn’t know for weeks that I was being played, that the woman was a fake, and that her name wasn’t even Milly.  I bought her jewelry and fancy knickknacks, and when I knew it was time to call it off, the woman I thought I loved hit me with a substantial blackmail scheme that would leave me penniless.

“I needed money, and that’s where Johnny Oldman came in.  I heard he was a small-time crook and was always looking for extra cash.   That’s when the poker game was set up so he could hook some poor soul … I never knew it would be Little Joe.”  Mort hung his head, recovered, and continued his story.  “I had to frame your son, Ben.  He lost two thousand dollars to Johnny, your money.  It worked out better than we’d planned.  I could pay off Milly and send her on her way, but Johnny wasn’t satisfied with the amount I paid him.  He demanded a daily stipend.  Not only was I blackmailed once, but twice. I’m guilty as sin, Judge.  Joe Cartwright never stepped foot in the bank.  It was all a blatant lie.”

Mort turned toward my father.  “I’m sorry, Ben.  I had no right to frame your son.  But, in all honesty, I never thought they’d send a Cartwright to prison.  I thought that somehow things would work out and Joe would go home that day.  I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.”

In time, Pa might find it in his heart but today wasn’t the day.

We all listened to Judge Mahoney turn the tables.  Wilson would spend the next ten years in prison, but he would spend the next few days in Roy’s jail.  Johnny Oldman wasn’t getting off scot-free, and Mort would have to confirm his guilt during a second hearing.

“Ben, your son is free.  I will telegraph the prison today, and I’ll send a letter of confirmation for Warden Curry with you and your sons.  I assume you’ll be riding down this afternoon.”

“Yes, Sir.  As soon as we’re done here, Your Honor.”

“Good.  Tell your boy I’m sorry things went as they did.  Like everyone else, I was fooled into thinking he was the guilty party.”

“Not everyone, Judge.”  Pa liked to have the last word.  

The judge handed Pa the most important letter he ever put in his vest pocket.  We brought Cochise with us, and Hoss would take his rein without complaint.  He would’ve led that horse all the way to Boston if that’s what it took to bring Joe home.  

There wasn’t much chatter on the ride down.  Pa was almost giddy inside.  He’d have all his sons under one roof by day’s end, and that’s what mattered most.  I packed a clean shirt and a pair of trousers for Joe just in case.  Hoss brought some of Hop Sing’s gingerbread cake—Little Joe’s favorite.  None of us knew how things worked, but we were prepared for anything that was thrown at us.

As we pulled up to the gate, I remembered the last time I was here, but things had changed since then.  I shaved my beard and shelved the derby.  Addison Carter was needed no more.  I was anxious to take back my role as the older brother.  That suited me just fine.  

After Pa showed the guard the letter, we were able to ride through the front gate and tie our mounts near the warden’s office.  Being familiar, I led the way.  Rudy stood outside Curry’s office.  He gave me an odd look, and that’s when I decided to keep my mouth shut and let Pa do all the talking.

“We have reason to see the warden.”  

Rudy crossed his arms over his puffed-out chest.  “What would that reason be?”

Pa didn’t suffer fools gladly.  He pushed past Rudy and into the warden’s office.  Hoss and I tried to follow, but Rudy had other plans.

Curry stood from behind his desk.  “What’s this all about?”

“This,” Pa said.  He slapped the judge’s letter on Curry’s desk.  “I want my boy now.”

“Let those men in and wait for us outside, Rudy.  Oh, and send Carl for the Cartwright boy.”  Hoss and I stepped inside the office and flanked our father.  “This is quite a surprise.  Something like this doesn’t happen often.”

“My son’s a law-abiding citizen.  An injustice has been made here, Warden, but I’m willing to take my boy home and forget this ever happened.”

“That’s gracious of you, Mr. Cartwright.  Not everyone would feel that way, but it’s the judge that put your son in my prison.   I’m nothing more than a steward for the state.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“If you want to take a seat, I’ll see what’s taking Carl so long.”

“Thank you.”

Hoss scrubbed his hands together just as he does when his favorite meal is set in front of him.  “Just a few more minutes, Pa.”

“I know.  I just … I don’t know.”

“Something wrong?

“No, Adam.  Of course not.”

“You don’t seem sure.”

“It’s nothing.”

Ten minutes passed, then twenty.  At a half-hour, my father was livid.

Chapter 18:  Ben

A crescent moon appeared through the small, barred window.  The day was nearly at an end and watching my boy sleep in his own bed wasn’t going to happen.  I asked my sons to go eat supper and book a hotel room for the night.  Both argued and said they weren’t leaving Joe and me alone, but I was their father.  I still gave the orders.

“It’s not a suggestion.  I want you to go.  Relax.  You’ll need a place to stay.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll stay here tonight.  Go on, now.”

“Ain’t you even gonna eat, Pa?”

“Go, Hoss.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After they left, I couldn’t sit in the waiting room for another minute, and I walked into the infirmary.  Dr. Aaron Stern and his nurse had worked on Joe most of the afternoon.  Besides being dehydrated, both shoulders had been dislocated from hanging too many hours inside a sweat box.  The doctor had set them back in place and had taped Joe’s arms to his chest so there’d be no unnecessary movement.

When the doctor first explained his findings, I didn’t understand.  He had to take me step by step through my son’s ordeal before I could grasp what had been done.  I still didn’t know why Joe had been singled out, but I wouldn’t leave the facility until I understood everything I needed to know about Joe’s tormenter.

As I ran the back of my fingers down my boy’s cheek, he began to stir.  Though he was full of laudanum, it had been hours since he was last dosed.  I wanted to see my son’s eyes, see how much life was left in a boy who was so full of energy and aspirations for his future.  A man could be dead inside, and I prayed Joe had kept us all in his heart and knew we’d never let him stay in this ugly place a minute longer than necessary.  The eyes never lied, especially Little Joe’s.  

“Pa …”

“It’s me, Son.”

“Why?  Why are you here?”

“To take you home.”

“Home?”

“Mr. Wilson confessed.”

“What?”

“He confessed to the bank robbery.  He’ll take your place in prison.”

“Prison?”

“Joe, what’s wrong?  What’s the matter?”

Unexpected footsteps caught my attention, and I turned and looked behind me.  “Doctor.  Something’s wrong here.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you with my patient, Mr. Cartwright.”

“This is my son, and the door wasn’t locked.  Why wouldn’t I be here?”

The doctor crossed the room.  I hoped my patient would be resting.”  

“He just woke, but he seems terribly confused.”

“How?”

“He doesn’t know where he is.”

“Mmm … interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“It happens sometimes.”  

“Explain to me how this type of forgetfulness might happen.”

“Sit down, Mr. Cartwright.”

Joe had fallen back to sleep; at least, his eyes were closed, and he wasn’t responding to my touch.  I took a seat in the only chair in the cold, gray room.  “What’s wrong with my son?”

“This might be difficult to hear.”

“Go on.”

“When a man is put through … when a man is constantly brutalized, his mind begins to shut down.  His only thoughts are trying to block out the pain.  Sometimes, the memory of past events become cloudy or vanish completely.  Vanishing completely can be a godsend, Mr. Cartwright.”

I sat forward in my chair and dangled my hat between my knees.  “Why was my son tortured?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who gave the orders?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do I find out.”

“The warden.  He should have the answers.”

“I appreciate what you’ve done for Joseph.”

“I assure you.  I did my best.”

I stared long and hard at the doctor.  I hadn’t really seen him before now.  With thinning hair and wire-rimmed glasses, he looked the part of a studious man.  How he ended up in a place like this was difficult to understand.  

“Thank you for saving my son.”

“My pleasure.”

I settled my hat and walked out of the infirmary.  Joe would sleep a while, which gave me time to visit the warden.  The corridor was long and dreary.  Windows that nearly touched the ceiling didn’t let in much light or room for escape.  Lanterns would soon be lit.  It was late afternoon when day eased into night.  Marie would call it the gloaming.  I cherished that special time in my life and my wife’s poetic vocabulary that most men found insignificant.

The warden stood when I barged into his office for the second time that day.  The sooner all was said and done, the sooner I could take Joseph home.  “Who tortured my son?”

“Sit down, Mr. Cartwright.”  I removed my hat and did as he asked.  “If you promise to stay calm, I’ll tell you everything.”

“I’m calm.  I won’t go charging out of this office in search of the man.”

“A man named Simpler, Able Simpler.”

The warden saw me grimace.  Adam knew all about Simpler, but he didn’t want me to worry.  It was just like him to keep that information to himself.  He knew how I’d react, and we couldn’t take a chance of ruining Joe’s homecoming, but my son didn’t know how far that man would go to hurt our family.  I didn’t blame my eldest, only Simpler.

“Where is he now?”

“I’ve had him detained.”

“Will he stand trial?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“My son and I will be there.”  I stood to leave.  “I’ll stay with Joseph tonight, and we’ll leave this place in the morning.”

“I figured as much.  I had a man stable your horse.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter 19:  Joe

Climbing the trail up the mountain was tougher than I thought possible.  I had no hands, no arms.  Having my shoulders reset was one thing but trying to keep steady on Cochise was a test of my riding skills.  Pa wanted to rent a wagon, but I wasn’t an invalid.  I just had an issue with balance.  My legs might be shot by the time we arrived, and maybe they’d have to carry me into the house, but I’d been carried before.  Anything but returning home in the back of a wagon suited me fine.

It seemed like just days ago I sat in front of a judge in a courtroom, but the last few weeks were foggy.  God knows I can’t talk about it with my family.  They’d think I’d gone half loony, but there are missing pieces of my life.   I brainstorm, but my mind won’t cooperate.  I’d been hurt.  That was obvious, but I couldn’t remember how it happened or why, or when I busted up my shoulders.  By morning, after a good night’s rest, I was sure everything would fall into place.  I just needed sleep.  Pa would agree with me this time.  He often said sleep was a cure-all for life’s existing problems.

I fell asleep in the saddle.  Swaying uneasy-like had distanced my mind from my body.  My whole being had become detached and taken me to a place where pain was constant.  To a place where I had no voice, no power, no strength to pull away, and no gun on my hip.  A spineless worm.  No guts.  No reaction.  What kind of man lets another take advantage?  Who was I?  

Men stirred about me, grabbing, shaking, shouting.   “Joseph!”  I struggled to get away. I wasn’t a worm, and I fought those who tried to wrestle me to the ground, but there were too many hands.  The battle was lost.  My boots hit the ground, and I dug my heels into the soft earth.  

“Joseph!”

My wrists were cuffed, my hands were swollen, and I needed Pa to take me home, but Pa wasn’t in charge.  Pa was far, far away with my brothers, not in this hellhole where men are paid to torture and maim.  It wasn’t a dream.  Everything was real and I tried to figure out why.  How had I come to this place of torment?  When had I become a spineless worm?

“Joseph.”

A gentle breeze fluttered through white, lace curtains.  The bedside lamp had been turned low and when my eyes began to focus, I became mesmerized by eerie shadows that danced in odd rhythms across faraway walls.  I heard my name being called, but I didn’t want to go there.  I didn’t want to be hurt again.

“Little Joe?”

“Pa?”

“Do you need a drink, Son?”

Where did my father come from?  Did he hear me calling his name?  “What happened?”  How did I get here?  “I don’t understand.”  

“Your brothers and I brought you home yesterday.  Do you remember riding Cochise?”

“Yeah.  Hard to stay in the saddle.”

“Do you remember falling?”

“Off my horse?”

“I’m afraid so, Son.

Pa poured a glass of water, but when I tried to sit up, I couldn’t move anything but my legs and my lips.  I was strapped up as tight as a mummy.

“Hang on.  I’ll help you.”

Pa sat the glass on the table and pulled me to a seated position then propped four pillows behind me.  This was a job for Hoss.  I was totally useless, but Pa did a fine job all by himself.  I sat and drank, and I was home.  That’s all that really mattered.

“You were dreaming, Son.  Do you remember anything about the last few days?”

I thought about what he said, but I was blank.  “Not really.  I’m glad to be home, though.”

“It’s good to have you home, Joseph.”  

“I’m sure Adam and Hoss are tired of doing my chores.”

“Joseph.  There’s more to family than chores.”

“I know, but I still can’t do my share.”

“You worry about getting well.  That’s all I ask.”

I tried to sit up taller, but that was a waste of time.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, you can.”  Pa scooted his chair closer to the bed and clasped his hands.  “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m missing time.  I mean, I’m missing days.  I remember sitting in front of the judge in Roy’s office, but after that, everything is … it’s, I don’t know what to call it, Pa, but I only remember weird things and it doesn’t make much sense.”

“What do you remember, Son?”

“I don’t know.  I remember taking a shower, and the water was ice cold.  Two other men shivered with me.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s where my memory falls apart.  I don’t know how to say it, but it’s like I put my life on hold.  Kind of like a dream that wouldn’t let me wake up until it was time to move on.  It doesn’t make sense.  I know that and wonder if I’ve lost my mind.  It’s like the real Joe went away, and I stepped in as his substitute.  But then I feel like I’m here, and this is now, and you’re my pa, and this is my home.  I know it doesn’t make sense but that’s how I see things.  Help me, Pa.  I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“You’re home now, and nothing else matters.  You need to sleep.  Rest will help, Joe.  Let your mind rest and everything should fall into place.”

Pa stood as though he were planning to leave, but I wasn’t finished.  I still had questions and he’d provided no answers.  “I’m all taped up.  I didn’t get this way by accident.”

“You’re right.”

“You know what happened, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Adam and Hoss?”

“Yes.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Not if I didn’t have to.”  I tried to turn, tried to face my father but damn if I could move.  Nothing was more frustrating than being swathed in a mountain of bandages.  “Sit still, Son.  “I’ll explain.

“Why don’t I remember?”

“The doctor told me that happens sometimes.”

“What do you mean … sometimes?”

“One of the guards at the prison singled you out and—”

“Prison?”

“Oh, Joe.  You really don’t remember?”

“Why, Pa?  What happened to me?”

“It’s a long story, Son, and in time, I think you’ll remember every detail, but for now, let’s concentrate on getting well.”

“At least tell me why my arms are taped to my stomach.  Tell me that much, will you?”   

“No interruptions?  You’ll let me tell the story straight out?”

“Yessir.”

“A man named Amos Simpler treated you worse than he should have and, as a consolation, your mind has shut down to the trauma he put you through.

“One source of punishment was an iron box in the center of the courtyard.  A man is sent there for what’s called an attitude adjustment.  You were there more often and longer than any other inmate.”

“But why—”

“Quiet Joseph.”

“The warden was unaware of how severe the punishments were, but he knows everything now and has put Amos Simpler behind bars until you’re well enough to sit through his trial.”  When I opened my mouth again, Pa held up his hand to shut me up.  “You, Tommy Lee, Adam, the doctor, and anyone else we can find will all testify to the torture he put you through.

“In good conscience, that’s all I can say.  I want you to lay back and rest.  We’ll talk more tomorrow and the next day and the next until everything is out in the open, but I want you to try and remember.  Because you’ll be testifying in front of a judge and jury, I can’t say any more.  Do you understand?”

“Yeah, but isn’t it my word against his?”

“Yes, but we have lots of people on our side, Son, and they’re all ready to tell what they saw.”

“I guess that’s okay.”

“Get some sleep now.”

“Yessir.”

Epilogue:  Ben

I remember that day in the barn as though it were yesterday.  After nearly twenty years, every time I think of Able Simpler, blood races through me as if I were back inside that stall with my hands clamped tight around his thick, sweaty neck.  When I found him hovering over my half-naked wife, rage took over and I intended to kill.  That’s when Marie pulled her torn blouse over her bare, white breasts and pushed up from the freshly laid straw.  Tears stained her face as she begged me not to kill her would-be rapist. 

“If not for me, for your boys.”  

Dread set in with Marie’s fiery words.  I’d acted foolhardy and hadn’t thought things through.  I never would have seen my sons grow into manhood.  I would’ve been imprisoned for life or faced the gallows and been hanged by the neck until dead.  A man like Simpler wasn’t worth the sacrifice.

It’s a day that needs to be put away forever, but it’s also a slice of life that came back to haunt our family, especially my youngest son, Joseph.  How could we have known that a man I hired years ago would still be in the territory, much less in charge of my son’s well-being?  I cringe when I think of how things could’ve turned out.

Three days before Thanksgiving, Doc drove out and removed the bandages that held Joe’s shoulders in place.  “Your muscles will be stiff for a while, so take things easy for the next couple of weeks.”

Joseph was so glad to be rid of the wrappings, he didn’t bother arguing over the length of time still needed for a complete recovery.  Paul winked at me, and we left Joe alone in his room to try out his new freedom without two aging spectators.  

I led Paul to the dining room table and poured us each a cup of coffee.  “He’ll be okay?”

“It takes time.  Easy tasks like lifting a coffee cup will be harder than he expects, and that’s when frustration will set in.  Let him blow off a little steam now and then.  It’s only natural.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.  When’s the trial?”

“Warden Curry has Simpler locked in a cell.  I’ve told him why the man went after Joe, and he thinks we have a good case for attempted murder.”

“That’s fine, Ben.  A man like that does nothing but torment others and should be put away forever.”

“That won’t happen but a few years behind bars is better than nothing.”

“You’re right, of course.”  Paul stood, slipped on his coat and hat, and picked up his bag.  His work here was done.  

“Will you join us for Thanksgiving Dinner?”

“Thank you, Ben.  You want to know a secret?”  I lifted my eyebrows in anticipation.   “My wife’s been working on a new potato dish for the last month.  I think she finally got it right, and I’m sure it will accompany us on Thursday.”

I rounded my hand on the good doctor’s shoulder.  “No one in this house has ever objected to a fancy dish of potatoes.”

“Good.  See you then.”

““`

The trial went as planned.  More than enough people testified in front of a circuit judge, but the outcome left us confused. Adam Simpler was charged with attempted murder, a category B felony, which holds a sentence of two to twenty years.  We hoped for the latter, but it would be days before Judge Ellis determined the length of the sentence.  None of us understood the delay, but in time, the warden would discover a connection between a man named Simpler and a judge named Ellis.

““`

As year after year passes, we don’t always realize when miracles happen.  It’s been ten long years since that first Thanksgiving miracle, and I still give thanks for Joe’s return.  When I think of everything that could’ve gone wrong, it was indeed a miracle Joseph was released from prison and was able to spend Thanksgiving Day with friends and family.  If Mort Wilson hadn’t confessed to robbing his own bank, or if Simpler had left Joe in the box one more day, we wouldn’t have been celebrating his homecoming at all.

During the Thanksgiving holiday a year later, we heard from Warden Curry.  It seems that Simpler and Judge Ellis had a history.  Though the judge should’ve recused himself, he sentenced the guard to twenty years in the Nevada State Prison.  Rumor was that Simpler had forced himself on the judge’s sister when they were just youngsters in school.  Doc was right.  The man would never change.

My son, Adam, found a new life away from the Ponderosa and, as though I needed reassurance, Joe and Hoss promised they’d never leave me behind.  They promised to stay by my side until the almighty called me home.  Along with my two youngest, a new man has joined our table for holiday dinners.  His name is Candy.  Though he is reluctant to make a commitment, he’s become our foreman but most of all, he’s become our friend.

This Thanksgiving, we mark the ten-year anniversary of Joe’s incarceration.  Had things gone as initially planned and had he lived through Simpler’s punishments, my son would’ve just been released from prison.  It’s hard to imagine losing ten years of Joe’s life over a crime he never committed.  

Although I’ve lost my eldest son to his many travels, it’s not the same as losing a boy the way we nearly lost Joseph.  Marion Wilson wasn’t as lucky.  Mort didn’t last any time at all behind bars.  The trauma of living like an animal was too much for a fair-minded banker, and he died before the first year was out.

Even though Joe has become my right-hand man, I still sit at the head of the table, and I still give the Thanksgiving blessing.  I bless all the riches we’ve been given.  I bless my three sons, the man who calls himself Candy, and friends that have graced our table for more years than I can count.

I give thanks to all those who have come and gone, people who have crossed our path in one way or another.  It’s not my job to single out the good from the bad.  I’ll leave that to a higher power and enjoy the simple miracles life has to offer.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2022