A Trip to Virginia City

by Beppina

Joe stood just off the front porch. His brothers were mounted and waited to ride out. His father was still standing at his side, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other gripping his hand.

“We should be back inside a week, ten days maximum.”

“I know, Pa. I’ll be fine. You all take care an’ get those beeves to market. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Ben Cartwright pulled his youngest boy into a warm hug and gripped the back of his neck. “You make sure you are, son.”

Mounting up, Ben turned to face his son. He touched the rim of his hat and eased the horse around to go out to the waiting herd. Joe waved them off before turning back into the empty house. Ben twisted back in the saddle, catching a final glimpse of his son before the door closed.

Joe would have ridden out with his father and brothers but taken a real soaking in the river some weeks earlier. The cold he had caught turned to pneumonia, and now he was just about over it. Ben was reluctant to have Joe ride along and breathe in all the dust from the trail. As they were only driving cattle across to Placerville, he told Joe he was to stay home. There was plenty of work to keep Joe busy; the mound of paperwork on the desk was just one of the tasks he’d lined up to fill in the time.

“He’ll be fine, Pa,” Hoss offered in reassurance.

“Yeah, Pa, quit worryin’ over baby brother,” Adam added to the comment. “As Hoss says, he’ll be fine.”

Ben just grunted. He felt uneasy leaving the youngest at home alone after being so ill, but as Adam frequently put it, ‘Needs must when the devil calls.’ He wished Hop Sing was home with Joe rather than driving the chuck wagon.

The first two days were uneventful. Apart from being bored, Joe had completed all the paperwork. He’d even managed to do some of the physical tasks on his list until he found he needed more nails.

‘A trip into Virginia City, now that’s not a bad idea,’ he thought with a grin as he buckled his gun belt around his slender hips. ‘A quick trip to the mercantile and then a couple of beers.’ Grabbing his hat from the rack, Joe strode out and across to the barn.

With well-practised ease, the buckboard was ready, and then Joe was on his way.

Four hours later, the buckboard parked in front of the mercantile store. The horses stood content in the shade while Joe passed a few minutes in idle chit-chat with the storekeeper and his wife. Giving them a cheery goodbye until he returned for the nails, Joe wandered back out into the midday sunshine. Tilting his hat a little to protect his eyes from the glare, Joe decided to eat in town. He’d then have a beer, collect his nails, and head home. Miss Daisy’s Cafe was a short walk from the mercantile, so Joe headed toward it.

“Hi Joe, how ya doing?” Seth shouted from across the street, motioning to have a beer.

“Okay, Seth, maybe later,” he shouted back.

“Later,” came the single-word response.

With a wave, Joe continued on his way. The sun was shining, it was a pleasant day, and all was right in the world of Joe Cartwright.

Joe stepped from the boardwalk to street level. He intended to cross the narrow alley alongside the ladies’ haberdashery shop. Joe stopped midway. Had he heard his name called, or was it just his imagination? The young man turned back to the street, but no one appeared to be wanting him. With a nonchalant shrug, Joe resumed his stroll while contemplating a tasty, cooked lunch at Miss Daisy’s.

A heavy blow to the back of the head sent Joe sprawling. Two arms grabbed him before he hit the ground and dragged him into the murky darkness of the passage.

”Got ya,” a scruffy, bearded, unsavoury-looking character muttered. The attacker pulled Joe’s revolver free and balanced it in his hand. “A mighty nice piece. I might just keep this.”

After disarming him, Joe’s assailant and his two accomplices dragged the inert Joe to the end of the shadowed alley. Joe was heaved over the saddle of a waiting horse. Just moments after the attack, they were mounted and rode to their hideout, the abandoned livery on the edge of town. The only remaining signs of Joe were the tracks where his boots had scuffed through the dirt.

The Wilson brothers shared a look at their leader before the elder asked, “What you got against Cartwright anyways?”

Jed Stone’s chilling laughter lacked any humour or feeling. “Let’s just say I don’t like rich brats,” he announced as they neared his chosen lair.

Stone twisted to the younger man, “Is he still out cold?”

Pulling at Joe’s hair, Jimmy checked for any signs of life. “Yeah. Still out of it.”

Will had dismounted and opened the doors to the barn. The three men led their horses into the semi-darkness. Stone grabbed Joe, hauled him from the saddle and dropped him senseless to the floor.

”Jimmy, get them horses in here, outta sight.” Stone ordered.

Nodding his agreement, Jimmy obeyed, then led them into a corner and remained at their side to keep them calm.

Turning to the older brother, Stone instructed, “Will, throw the rope over that beam,” pointing to the strongest-looking joist above them, “then get his wrists tied. Tight.”

Joe uttered a soft groan of pain as he tried to sit up, catching Stone’s attention as he moved. Stone stepped across to the young man lying in a heap on the dirty straw.

“Ha, so you’ve woken up, Cartwright,” he bent down close to Joe. ”Betcha didn’t expect to see me again, did ya?”

“What the hell? Who are you? Why…?” Joe’s words cut off as a fist connected with a resounding crack against his jaw. Joe’s head flung back with force. He shook his head as he attempted to unscramble his brain, metallic-tasting blood filling his mouth from biting his tongue.

”Shut up!” Stone screamed at him as he pulled the tousled hair back in a

vice-like grip, ”I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

Joe fell back. Blood trickled down his chin as he took in his surroundings and the faces of his captors. Already Joe was trying to plan a way of escaping from this situation.

Stone leaned in close, his foul breath causing Joe to gag as he struggled against the ropes binding his wrists.

”I like pretty boys,” he whispered in one ear as he ran a dirty nicotine-stained finger down Joe’s cheek.

”Get his gun belt.” Stone ordered as he pulled at Joe’s jacket. His long-bladed knife made short work of the corduroy.

Joe’s jacket, slashed from top to bottom, hung like rags from his arms. He struggled with renewed vigour as Stone continued to cut into the fabric, tossing bits to one side as they fell free.

”What do you want…” Joe started again, only to be silenced by two more blows to his face and a piece of his jacket rammed into his mouth. Doubled over, he fought to catch his breath. Joe had a vague idea of his location but couldn’t be sure. Likewise, he didn’t know how long he had been unconscious. It could have been five minutes or five hours for all he knew. The brief moments of memory searching were interrupted as Stone hauled Joe to his feet. The younger man fought back as Stone pushed him toward the hanging rope. Will grabbed Joe’s bound wrists and pulled him across the dirty straw. Boots scrabbled to gain a hold against the two men trying to manoeuvre him under the rope. Joe was now in full panic mode. He was fighting for his life. Joe wriggled and squirmed, kicked and kneed whoever was nearest. They were not going to hang him without a fight.

”Get that rope.” Stone caught one loose end and slid it through Joe’s bound wrists. Will grabbed the other, holding it tight while Stone tied a knot, securing the struggling Joe. Once completed to Stone’s satisfaction, Will began pulling up the slack. Foot by foot, the rope tightened. Joe fought against the rising pressure on his arms, kicking out in all directions and attempting to get the rope loose.

Joe was scared. He’d never been so frightened in his life. Would he get out of this alive? Joe never thought he’d die like this, like a common criminal. Joe wanted to say goodbye to his father and brothers. To say sorry for the times he had angered or pranked them. Joe needed to tell them he loved them.

Pain arched through his body as the rope tightened. “Please, God. Please stop them.” he prayed as he was stretched further towards the roof.

Using Joe’s revolver, Stone swung hard at the young man’s head; blood spurt forth as the skin split with the force of the blow. Joe slumped forward, his chin resting on his chest and oblivious to the blood flowing down his cheek.

”Damn,” Stone complained, ” I wanted him awake. He sure is a fighter! I want him hangin’ there nice an’ tight.”

With a couple more heaves, Will had Joe hanging by his wrists. His toes just touched the straw-covered floor, not giving any support. His head hung forward between the updrawn arms.

”Get his ankles tied. He can stay like that tonight,” Stone chuckled, ”take some of the fight outta him.”

Giving the rope another sharp tug, Will tied it off. Stone gave a final couple of punches at the suspended Joe, causing another deep groan of pain. Jimmy moved the horses across, and the three men mounted up. Checking the coast was clear, they sneaked from the old building and rode to the saloon.

Hours later, a befuddled and pain-filled Joe came back into the world. His head hurt. His head hurt a lot. It throbbed in complaint every time he tried to raise it. Joe soon realised it wasn’t just his head hurting. The dragging pain in his arms throbbed in time with his head. His chest and ribs were aching to a different beat. Joe’s belly churned and cramped from hunger and thirst.

Struggling not to vomit, Joe tried to check his surroundings. It didn’t take many moments to realise he was hanging by his wrists from the centre beam of the building. His wrists and shoulders were taking his whole body weight as he balanced on tiptoes.

Joe had lost all track of time. He guessed it was now coming towards the dawn of a new day as grey light filtered through the wooden slats and cast faint shadows across the floor. The only sound heard was the rasping of Joe’s own laboured breathing. Try as he may, he had failed to spit the gag from his mouth, and now he struggled to draw air into his lungs.

Joe closed his eyes, willing the agony away. His whole body hurt. Sweat-soaked hair clung to his face. Salt stung his eyes as the droplets trickled down. The movement of shaking his head to clear his eyes caused the splitting headache to increase tenfold. Even in this dazed condition, Joe knew he had a concussion. What vision he had was blurred. Joe’s arms were stretched to their limit. His shoulders were on fire. Any slight movement sent the muscles into violent cramps that took his breath away. Even the very act of breathing sent daggers of pain coursing through his extremities. Joe’s toes barely touched the ground. Any attempt to gain purchase increased the burning sensation tearing at his shoulders. Experience told him that both shoulders were dislocated. Remaining still was Joe’s only option.

Who the hell were these men? What had he done to deserve this? Joe knew he was too weak to fight back. Hung like he was, Joe knew he had little chance of escape. Would anyone have missed him? Would the Morgans have noticed he hadn’t returned for the nails? Surely someone had realised the buckboard was still on Main Street. These and other questions jumped back and forth in his mind. Joe was scared. Would anyone think to look for him?

If ever Joe had wanted to cry, now was that moment. Sheer willpower held back the tears. Joe knew if he broke down, he wouldn’t survive this torture.

The door swung open with a protesting squeak. Stone stepped into the gloomy shaded space and crossed to where Joe hung.

”Well, good morning, Cartwright. I trust you had a restful night,” he taunted. Stone followed through with a violent punch to Joe’s midriff. Joe swung in a tight circle, unable to stop himself from moving and unable to stop the new sensation in his belly.

”I bet you’re hungry an’ thirsty ain’t ya?”

Joe could only glare in response at the man as he stood laughing just out of reach of Joe’s feet.

”I’ve got a treat for you today. Can you guess what it is?”

Stone’s fist connected with Joe’s face, flinging his head back against his arms. Blood soon began flowing down his face and neck as his lips and nose split from the blow.

”I’m going to get some breakfast. Can I bring you something?”

Joe sagged against the rope. He hadn’t eaten since the previous morning. Joe was hungry, but thirst was his biggest problem. He needed water sooner rather than later.

Stone pushed his face close into Joe’s, the stale breath making the younger man heave in revulsion.

”Nah, you’re too tied up, ain’t ya?” With another vicious blow to Joe’s stomach, Stone spun the rope and caused Joe to swing back and forth. Stone was still laughing as he left the barn. Joe tried desperately not to cry out at the absolute agony he experienced.

After a few minutes, the pendulum effect stopped. As Joe struggled to breathe, he searched his mind in an effort to identify the men holding him prisoner. Their faces weren’t familiar. He hadn’t heard any names. Why was he their prisoner? What had he done to warrant this treatment?

Joe remained hanging from the beam for hours. He drifted in and out of consciousness as the pain ebbed and flowed through his body. In his lucid moments, he thought of his family. His father. Would they be on their way home yet? What would his father do if he died? Had anyone noticed he was missing? Had anyone seen the buckboard abandoned in front of the saloon? So many questions were asked.

The barn door opened, flooding the dusty space with glaring sunlight. Stone stood gazing up at the limp form. ”You awake, Cartwright?”

Stone prodded hard with the barrel of his gun. Joe groaned as he opened his eyes to face his captor.

”You hungry yet or thirsty?”

Joe could only grunt in reply and hope the gag would be removed to let him drink. Stone pulled at Joe’s shirt, ripping the buttons apart and exposing his muscular chest.

”Did I tell you I like pretty boys?” Stone laughed as he reached to the belt circling Joe’s waist. His dirty, coarse fingers traced a line across the naked flesh, making Joe shiver with disgust and fear. Stone watched Joe’s face, the horrified expression giving him a ripple of thrill.

”I’m going to enjoy this,” he tormented, unbuckling the belt, and throwing it to one side.

The barn door swung open as Will and Jimmy stepped into the gloom.

”They’ve started looking for Cartwright,” the older brother announced. ”Coffee’s got a search party together an’ they’re setting out to find him.”

”You join, both of you. Keep ’em away from here. Tell ‘em you’ve searched here already.”

”I heard Coffee say he’s sent a message to old man Cartwright to get back here,” Jimmy cut in.

”Let’s get outta here for now an’ come back later,” Stone sighed. His little plan had been delayed. He would have to wait before taking his pleasure in the barn.

Another day passed before Joe’s assailants returned to the makeshift prison.

By now, Joe was in a sorry state. He was dehydrated from lack of water, and the humid heat of the barn only made things worse. The young man hadn’t eaten for days and was weak from starvation. The discomfort he was experiencing had reached an unbearable level. From his wrists to his feet, he was in acute agony. The gag was still in place, though now it was causing more difficulty in breathing than before. Joe could only take very shallow breaths. To do more was impossible. Consciousness came in short, sporadic bursts. When Joe was awake, his mind wandered. In his confused state, Joe could see and talk to his dead mother and begged her for help. His mind cried out for his father and asked for his return.

Time lost all meaning. Day and night became one as Joe slid further and further away from reality.

On the second day, Stone reappeared. His anger was palpable. He’d been seconded onto the search party with his accomplices in the search for Joe. His plans had gone wrong. Someone would pay for this. That someone would be Joe Cartwright!

Stone poked and prodded at his unresponsive victim. In disgust, he looked at the filth now covering the lower body where Joe had unavoidably relieved himself. Flies had gathered on the sodden pants feasting on the matter dried to them. More flies buzzed around the closed eyes feeding on the drool and caked blood on his face.

Checking the coast was clear, Stone crossed to the well situated just behind the building. He filled a bucket with stagnant water before sneaking back into the barn. Joe smelt awful. A mix of human waste, dirty hay, sweat, and dirt clung to him. Reconsidering his first action, Stone pulled his long blade from its sheath. Avoiding touching Joe, he slid the blade up one pant leg, then the other. A swift cut through the waistband allowed the soiled clothing to fall away. Picking up the bucket, Stone moved to face Joe. He swung back and then let fly the dirty water over his prisoner. The flies avoided the dousing. They now clustered around the discarded clothing rather than the hanging man.

A soft moan escaped Joe’s lips. His eyes fluttered open, then closed at the sudden chill. As much as he wanted to stay awake, the exhaustion was too much. Joe returned to his world of darkness.

”Cartwright! Cartwright!” Stone punched Joe in the stomach. ”Wake up!” Joe remained unconscious.

Taking his knife, Stone reached up to Joe’s left wrist. Touching it to the soft flesh, he dragged it inch by inch down to the elbow. A thin line of bright red blood trailed behind the blade. Stone’s knife blade was put to Joe’s armpit, and he cut a bloody line to his waist. Changing sides, Stone repeated the cutting from Joe’s right wrist to his waist. Stone worked methodically, first on the left side and then on the right. Front, then back, top to bottom. Line after line of blood oozed from the numerous cuts. Then Stone moved to Joe’s lower body. Using the same method, he inflicted the same level of torture. From his waist down over the naked buttocks, down the back of his legs to his boots. Thin rivulets of blood mixed with the dirty water as it trickled downwards. The blade pricked at Joe’s groin drawing more blood. This time, he cried out as the pain invaded his unconscious state. Stone pressed harder, though he was careful not to cause a fatal injury. Yet.

”You know I could geld you, Cartwright. It would be so easy to do.”

Pain-filled green eyes met Stone’s. Joe made a noise.

”Go to hell,” he wanted to scream, but only a painful gurgle emerged.

”Now, now,” Stone laughed, ”don’t get excited. I may still do it.”

The blade continued cutting. Joe tensed every muscle as the knife moved closer to his private parts. He could feel the cut more now as it bit deeper. Joe tried to swing away from the knife blade only to have Stone grab at him and pull him closer. Reaching up, Stone pulled the filthy rag from Joe’s mouth.

”I want to hear you scream,” Stone hissed as he gripped Joe’s jaw with one hand. ”I want you to beg me to kill you. You will, by the time I’ve finished with you, believe me.”

‘Go to hell!’ Joe cursed between gasped breaths. ‘Go to hell.’

Enraged at Joe’s stubborn courage, Stone lashed out with another solid punch to his belly. Joe stifled the cry of agony as he tried to pull away, only for Stone to strike him twice in the face. One eye swelled immediately, while the other bled from the brow. Blood ran into his eye and down his cheek.

“Would this madman ever tire of beating him?” Joe asked himself. Joe knew he couldn’t take much more punishment from his captor. He was already so weak from hunger and thirst. Every cut seared through his body. The pain in his arms edged towards unbearable, and the thudding in his head pushed him back to unconsciousness.

”Boss,” the older Wilson brother eased into the barn, ”The Cartwrights ‘re in town.”

”Damn!”

”What’re you goin’ to do?”

”What I planned to do, what d’you think?”

Will stepped back, not sure what Stone was implying.

”Get that bale over here, then drop him down over it.”

Will obeyed and dragged the hay across the floor. He slipped the knot holding Joe suspended and allowed him to drop as a dead weight to the ground. Together, they straddled Joe across the bale. His hands and feet were still bound as they moved him. The door opened, and Jimmy stepped in.

”The Cartwrights are with the Sheriff. They’re askin’ lots of questions. What’re you doin’?” He saw Joe sprawled prone across the hay.

”Havin’ me some fun, Jimmy boy. I told you; I don’t like pretty boys unless I can hurt them.”

Jimmy stood in the doorway. He understood what Stone was saying and didn’t like what it implied.

”I’ll go an’ keep watch on the Cartwrights,” he said as he ran from the stable.

”Hold him down.” Stone ordered Will as he took his stance behind Joe’s inert form.

Jimmy ran from the stable. He was determined to get help for Joe. If he could bring the Sheriff, Joe’s life would be saved.

Ben Cartwright stood with his older sons in front of the mercantile store. He was in deep conversation with Sheriff Coffee and the Morgans. Sheriff Coffee reassured the worried senior Cartwright that the search for his youngest son was ongoing, and they were determined to find the young man.

Ben questioned whether they had discovered anything and where they had searched. Coffee asked if Joe had upset anyone recently or given cause to be kidnapped. The Cartwrights could only answer in the negative. Joe had been confined to the ranch with pneumonia and had not seen anyone. They were baffled as to why Joe had disappeared.

Jimmy spotted Sheriff Coffee outside the Mercantile. He shouted for attention as he ran to the group who stood talking on the boardwalk.

”Sheriff, sheriff, come with me…!”

Coffee turned to address the youth, “Steady on, boy, what’s the shouting about? We got a fire somewhere?”

”You gotta come with me. I know where Joe Cartwright is.”

Ben spun around. ”You know where my son is? Where? Take me to him.”

”The old Livery, just out of town. Please, hurry. He’s gonna kill him.”

Adam ran across the street, leapt onto his horse, grabbed the reins to the others and rushed back to his family. The Sheriff led the anxious group to the livery.

”Let me deal with this, Ben,” he warned, ”I want to get them as much as you. Just follow my play. Okay?”

Ben grunted in annoyance, ”Let’s just get him, Roy.”

After leaving the horses out of sight, the four crept closer. Guns were drawn in readiness. Roy motioned for Adam and Hoss to take one side of the double door. He and Ben would enter from the left.

The doors squealed in protest as they were pushed open. Roy and Ben filled the space, sunlight blinding the occupants to their identity.

”Shut that door, you idiot,” Stone shouted, failing to turn and see who had arrived and assumed it was Jimmy.

”Step away from there.” Roy’s voice carried across the barn.

Stone spun in shock, knife in one hand, the other hovering over his pistol. Will at his side, gun drawn and cocked.

”Drop the knife and the guns,” the Sheriff ordered, stepping further into the gloom.

”Don’t come any closer… I’ll kill him! You must be Cartwright. They said you were here. You’re just in time for my final show.”

”Step away from my boy!” Ben roared as his hand itched to fire his weapon.

Stone stood his ground. His crazed laughter filled the barn. Adam and Hoss stepped into view, their guns at the ready.

”Do as my Pa says,” Hoss spoke. His voice was low and menacing, his gun aimed at Stone’s middle.

”Why’re you doin’ this?” Roy Coffee asked. ”What has Joe done to you?”

”He’s a spoilt brat. Got too much money and all the girls. He made out with a girl I was after. Didn’t look at me twice after Cartwright here chatted to her. It was all Joe Cartwright this, Joe Cartwright that. He needed bringin’ down.”

”You’d kill a man just for humiliating you?” Ben demanded.

”He’ll live. But he’ll live remembering everything I’ve done to him!” Stone declared.

“You told them, you no good traitor.” Stone spotted Jimmy enter the barn.

”I couldn’t let you kill ‘im, Jed. Bad ‘nough you torturing ‘im, just ’cause a woman don’t want you. I ain’t gettin’ done for no murder!”

The volley of gunshots echoed through the confined space. When the smoke cleared, Jed Stone lay sprawled on the hay. Four bullet holes spread about his body. Blood seeped from each. Behind him, Will had fallen to his knees as blood blossomed from the large hole in his chest. He was not long for this world.

”I’m sorry, Mr. Cartwright…” Jimmy spoke, his voice breaking, ”I’m so sorry.” Stone’s bullets had found one target.

Adam knelt at his side and gently closed the sightless eyes.

”He would have faced a long prison sentence,” Roy said “Maybe better this way.”

Ben knelt at his youngest son’s side. His face wreathed with concern as he pulled Joe into his arms. Hoss sawed at the ropes binding Joe’s hands and feet to free him. Adam’s yellow coat was swiftly wrapped around the naked figure as Ben held him close.

”The Doc’s on his way,” the Sheriff touched Ben on the shoulder. ”Keep the boy still till he’s looked at him.”

Doc Martin appeared at Ben’s side only moments later. “Let me look at Joe. Hoss, I need your help.”

Adam led his father to one side, “Come on Pa, Roy could do with our help.” Ben started to protest until the doctor glared up at him,

“Ben, Adam’s right. Please give me some room, you can sit with Joe later.”

With Hoss’ assistance, Joe was moved across to the doctor’s office. Once in the sanitary surroundings, Paul Martin set about getting Joe cleaned up and ready for treatment.

Epilogue. Joe remained unconscious for more than a week. His family stayed at his bedside day and night. They prayed for his recovery. Joe’s injuries were healing well during this time. The deeper cuts were sutured, while the shallow ones were treated with a salve. Getting liquids into Joe proved to be quite a challenge. They did succeed, and he began to wake up. Thankfully, Joe remembered little of the torture he had endured. True to form, he started asking to go home. Firmly told he would spend another week in bed at the doctor’s caused a minor outburst. Some sharp words from Ben soon calmed that situation. Joe accepted another week with good grace.

Two weeks to the day after his kidnapping, Joe was back home on the Ponderosa. He wasn’t fully recovered but well enough for Paul Martin to release him into his family’s loving care.

August 2023.