The Schoolmaster

By Bakerj

PART I

Chapter One

Ben’s eyes narrowed against the dark.  Terrified of missing Little Joe, their search was painfully slow.  He prayed the boy had stayed on the road he’d cut through the Ponderosa and hadn’t taken off cross-country.  The freezing temperature had turned the earlier rain to ice, and the ground was iron-hard.  Ben fought the panic rising in his chest as the minutes ticked by.  The window for Joe was closing, maybe closed already.  They needed to find him fast.

His head snapped around when Hoss shouted, “Look, Pa. Red!”

***

Hoss was hiding out in the barn.  A tempest raged in the house, and he preferred to avoid this one.  It was the same argument that had been going on for weeks, and Little Joe was the cause.

Joe wanted to work full-time on the ranch.  “I’m ready, and I can do the work,” he’d told him.  Hoss agreed.  He’d started at fourteen and couldn’t see why Joe shouldn’t do the same.  But Pa was dead set on Joe following Adam to college.

Hoss paused his raking to scrub his nose.  Little Joe hadn’t taken the decision well.  To say he was mad didn’t do it justice.  The little cuss hadn’t given in, though.  But neither had Pa, thanks to Adam.  Hoss pondered his older brother.  Since he returned from college two years ago, his attitude toward Joe wasn’t something Hoss couldn’t always understand.  He’d honed the knack of aggravating their younger brother and seemed set on riding him.  Speak of the devil.

“Still going?”

“Yeah.  Thought I’d leave them to it.  Didn’t seem to be helping any.”

“Oh, got that, did you?”

Adam gave him one of his looks.  “Meaning?”

Hoss leaned on his rake and met his eyes.  “Well, it ain’t like you haven’t been stirring the pot.”

“If you mean, I happen to think younger brother could benefit from more schooling, and I agree with Pa?  Then yes, I’ve been stirring the pot.”

Hoss thrust out his chin.  “What is it with you and Little Joe anyway?”  You don’t seem to wanna give him room to do nuthin’.”

“Room to be stubborn, disrespectful, and behave like a brat, you mean.”

“Aww, c’mon, Adam, you’ve been riding him pretty hard.  He’s justa kid.”

“Exactly, he’s just a kid who thinks he knows it all and can abandon his schooling!”  Hoss raised his eyebrows, and Adam took a calming breath.  “Don’t you understand?  Education is a privilege.  Little Joe shouldn’t dismiss it.”

“So, if you’d not been at college when I left school, would you have said the same for me?”

“I might, though I know it was different for you.”

“’Cause I ain’t as smart?”

“No, of course not.  You’re just as smart, and you know it.  But I know how difficult school was for you because you were so grown up.”

Hoss’s easy grin broke out, “You mean ‘cause I was so big?”

“Well, you have to admit, there aren’t many bigger.”

“Ain’t that the truth?  But y’know, Adam, Joe ain’t like you either.  He ain’t much for book learning.”

“He could be if he set his mind to it.  I’m sorry.  But I won’t stand by and let him throw away something that important.”

Hoss sighed and looked out of the barn door.  “D’you think it’s safe to go back in yet?”

“Joseph Francis Cartwright, you will be attending school when it starts on Monday, and I will not hear another word about it!  Is that clear, or must we continue this discussion upstairs?”

He scowled at his father.  The unfairness of the situation rankled every part of Joe.  He hated school, just like Hoss.  Why did he have to stay when Hoss hadn’t?  Deep down, he knew Pa would’ve listened to him if it hadn’t been for ‘I’m so smart’ Adam, sticking his nose in.  It just wasn’t fair.  But he’d lost and wasn’t about to invite a paddling.

Drawing himself up to his full height, he mustered his dignity.  “All right, Pa.”

Turning from his father, he stalked up the stairs and even managed not to slam his bedroom door.

The whole family suffered over the remaining days, with Joe maintaining what he saw as dignified silence and everyone else as sulking.  By Monday, everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he left for school.

***

Chapter Two

The small building on the edge of Eagle Station settlement served as both the schoolhouse and church.

The trading post had blossomed, and the citizens of this growing community had ambitions to build a town.  Along with the schoolhouse, they boasted a saloon, stables, and their most recent addition and pride and joy, a sheriff’s office.

The school provided education for the children of the settlement, surrounding farms, and ranches.  Most walked to school, with a few, like Joe, riding.  Joe considered himself fortunate.  The walk for some took as long as his ride.

Miss Abigail Jones brooked no nonsense from her classroom and could be ruthless with the dunce cap and her most dangerous weapon – letters home to parents.

When Joe rode his horse to the lean-to, Mitch strolled up.  “Couldn’t get your pa to change his mind, huh?”

“Nope, he’s stubborn as ever, thanks to Adam.”

Mitch didn’t miss the bitterness in the last remark and snorted.  Things had been rough for his friend since Adam’s return.  He was mightily glad Adam wasn’t his brother.  Whenever he was around him, Mitch had the notion Adam was laughing at him like everything he said was stupid.  He dropped a hand on Joe’s shoulder.  “Don’t mind it too much.”

His friend smiled, but Mitch could see his disappointment.  Joe had been working real hard on the ranch all summer to impress his father and brothers and had even turned down three invitations to go fishing.  That year, he’d not only taken part in the spring roundup but, for the first time, joined his family on the cattle drive to Sacramento. 

Joe had been so excited when he returned and couldn’t wait to tell Mitch all about it.  He’d been so proud, working alongside his family, and believed he’d proven to them that he was a man and ready to go to work.  The day after his fourteenth birthday, Joe had asked his Pa. 

“He still thinks I’m a little kid,” Joe had told him.  But Mitch knew it was more than that.  Joe didn’t feel respected by his own family, and that hurt.

“Joe, Mitch!  Good to see you,” Jake jumped up from the bench where he’d been sitting with Sara and Seth. 

Mitch was pleased to see Joe smiling when he greeted his friends.  He was never one to stay down for long. 

Miss Jones settled the children to their first lesson and then called Joe and his friends to her desk.

“As the oldest in the class, I expect you all to help with the younger children.”

Mitch felt Joe pull himself up.  Expecting trouble, he was taken aback when Joe smiled.  “Yes, ma’am.  Whatever you need.”  When they returned to their seats, Joe hissed, “At least she thinks I can handle a bigger job.

Two weeks into the winter term, an emergency meeting of the School Board was called.  Consisting of prominent community members, it managed all aspects of the school.  They had to discuss Miss Jones’s request for three weeks absence before Christmas so she and her mother could visit her sister, who was about to have her baby.  Could they get a replacement, or should they close the school?

Amos Franks had the answer.  He knew of a substitute teacher working in Genoa.  He offered to carry the invitation of placement on his imminent business trip.  Relieved at this simple solution, everyone agreed.

When he returned and confirmed the acceptance of the offer, Amos was enthusiastic about the man, “Azariah Jenkins is his name.  I’m told he maintains a disciplined class and gets results.”

After all the trouble he’d had with Joseph, Ben let the last comment wash over him.  He was just grateful that the school would stay open.  Something he would come to regret.

***

Chapter Three

At nine o’clock prompt, all the children were seated, awaiting the arrival of the substitute schoolmaster.  Joe nudged Mitch and winked at the muffled snickers from the younger boys.  He suspected they’d prepared the traditional prank for the hapless teacher. 

Joe’s mouth dried when he appeared.  Just shy of six feet, the man looked all sinew and bone as if he’d never had a decent meal.  Dark hair slicked down so hard it looked painted onto his narrow head did nothing to soften a stern countenance.  His long nose overshadowed a thin slash of lips that looked like they’d never cracked a smile.  But it was the granite-hard eyes that sunk Joe’s hopes and told him this man wouldn’t take a joke.

“My name is Mr. Jenkins.  I will be your schoolmaster while Miss Jones is away.” 

He picked up the chalk and began to write his name on the blackboard.  Having been soaked in water, it disintegrated into a squishy mess in his hand.  A ripple of giggles went around the room, but no flicker of amusement crossed the teacher’s face.  The class collapsed into silence.  Their little joke hadn’t been shared. 

Mr. Jenkins pulled a pristine handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his fingers with fastidious care.  He spoke after he’d folded the handkerchief and returned it to his pocket. 

“Who is responsible for this?”  One small boy stood.  “Name?”

“Ted Simmons Sir,”

“Come here, Simmons.”

The quivering seven-year-old moved to stand in front of the teacher.  Joe drew a sharp breath when the schoolmaster fetched a long, thin cane.  Miss Jones had never resorted to a paddle, let alone a cane.

Jenkins addressed the class, “I will not tolerate dishonesty, disrespect, sloth, tardiness, or time wasting.  Break my rules, and you will be punished.  Hold out your hand.”

Joe flinched each time Jenkin’s brought down his cane on the little boy’s palm.  The schoolmaster’s thin lips compressed to a slit. 

“Not an auspicious start.  I think a reminder of the Godliness you should be seeking is needed.”

Picking up another chalk, the schoolteacher wrote a verse.  Joe recognized it from Proverbs. Even a child makes himself known by his acts, by whether his conduct is pure and upright.

A long finger tapped the board.  “We will begin by reciting this.”

By the time they’d repeated the verse for the twentieth time, Joe was ready to roll his eyes, and he was grateful when they moved on to the Lord’s prayer.  The children then watched in bemusement as Mr. Jenkins drew a line on the floor in front of his desk. 

“When I call your name, bring your reader and ‘toe the line’, where I will hear you.  I will start with the Abecedarians and proceed through the grades.”

Joe’s hands tightened around his book.   He hated how Jenken’s picked apart each child for every slight mistake and mispronunciation.  Miss Jones had them stand beside her, and corrections were quietly made.  This man seemed to revel in the act, and Joe was fast concluding their new teacher was a bully.

By the time reading and penmanship were over, the class was dreading arithmetic.  Each child sank into their seat, hoping they wouldn’t be called to cipher the problems chalked on the board.  Relief rippled around the room when lunch was at last called.  Fetching their pails, they moved back to their desks.

A bark from the schoolmaster froze them to the spot.  “What are you doing?  Meals are eaten outside.”

Startled, Joe looked out the window.  The day was bright but bitterly cold.  He cleared his throat, “Mr. Jenkins, Sir, we normally eat inside in the winter.”

“Nonsense!  Fresh air is good for the soul.  If you can take your amusement outside, you can eat there.”

The children put on their coats and began to file out. 

“Cartwright!”  Joe stopped and looked back.  “In future, when you wish to speak, you will raise your hand and wait for permission.  Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Ted’s voice rang with pride when he told them, “It really hurt, but I didn’t cry.”

Mitch and Joe doused his hand from the water bucket.  Pleased to see the icy liquid diminish the red welts, Joe grinned.  “You were real brave.”

Watching Ted join his friends, Mitch commented, “Bit harsh, weren’t it?”

Joe chewed his bottom lip.  If he were Hoss, he was sure his scalp would be itching.  It always did when Big Brother sensed trouble, and Joe sensed it now.

The afternoon brought more disappointment for Joe and his friends.  When asked how he’d like them to help, Mr. Jenkins snapped, “I don’t require assistance from my students.  You will do best to put your efforts into your studies.”

Saddling their horses, Mitch pulled a face, “Gonna be a long three weeks with frosty, misery drawers in charge.”

Joe laughed, but it was a half-hearted affair.  Mitch was right.

Bursting through it, Joe sent the door crashing back.  Pa winced when he looked up from his correspondence but smiled when Joe approached his desk.  “How was Mr. Jenkins’ first day?”

“I don’t like him. He’s real strict and—”  He was interrupted by a snort from behind.

“Makes a change for you kids to get a bit of discipline.  Much as I admire Miss Jones, I sometimes think she’s too soft.”

Unaware that Adam was present, Joe scowled.  The interruption annoyed him, and being called a ‘kid’ made it worse.  The devil on his shoulder took a hand, and Joe retorted, “She ain’t soft.  But she sure admires you, too.”  The stiffening of his brother’s features alerted Joe to the danger he was in.  Scooting closer to his pa’s desk, he continued, “It ain’t that, Pa—”

Ben interrupted, “Isn’t Little Joe, isn’t.  It’s his first day.  No doubt Mr. Jenkins was a bit nervous.  Once he settles in, it’ll be fine.  Give the man a chance.”

Joe frowned.  Mr. Jenkins hadn’t seemed the nervous type, but maybe Pa was right.  He was always willing to give someone a fair go.  Turning, he took a wide berth of Adam and thudded up the stairs to put his books away before starting his chores.

“Honestly, Pa, his cheek gets worse.”

Ben couldn’t resist.  “Well, Miss Jones does admire you.”

Rolling his eyes, Adam left the room. 

***

Chapter Four

When Joe and his friends arrived the following day, Mr. Jenkins was already in the schoolroom.  Before class commenced, the children had chores to complete.  The older ones chopped and brought in firewood before lighting the pot-belly stove.  The others filled the water buckets and swept the floor.  The presence of the censorious schoolmaster quashed the usual lighthearted chatter that accompanied this tasks.

Prayers over, Mr. Jenkins rose.  “After assessing you all yesterday, I will be making changes to the grades.”

The children were stunned.  How could he change what Miss Jones had assigned?  Surprise turned to trepidation when he began calling names.

Like most schools with children from five to sixteen, they were arranged by grade.  At the front were the younger children learning their ABCs, moving back to the eighth graders and above.  Every name Jenkins called out, he sent down a level.  Disgust filled Joe at the obvious pleasure the schoolmaster took in their mortification. 

Then he called Tom Wilkin’s name.  Tom was eleven and big like Hoss.  Unlike Hoss, Tom was what people called ‘slow’.  Joe liked Tom and knew how embarrassed he was by his slowness.  The thing Joe most admired about Miss Jones was how she had Tom sit with the fifth graders while giving him lower-grade work.  Joe held his breath.  Where would the schoolmaster move him?

When the schoolmaster instructed Tom to move to second grade, Joe gasped and watched the deep crimson stain suffuse the boy’s neck and face as he changed his place.  His big frame looked ridiculous next to the little children.  Joe could see Tom knew it.  Fires of indignation began to burn deep in Joe’s eyes.

Huddled together, trying to eat with frozen fingers, Joe repeated, “I’ll talk to him.”

“You can’t.  He won’t like it,” Seth told him.

“We can’t let Tom sit there.  I’ll talk to him.  He’ll understand once I explain.”  Joe saw the doubt in his friends’ eyes.  Part of him shared it, but he was determined to speak up for Tom.  He’d had seen the boy wiping away tears and heard him muttering about leaving.  Adamant, he assured them, “I’ll be fine.”

Joe stood at the front of the class.  The room was silent, and every pair of eyes looked at him while the children filed in and took their seats.  Arms outstretched, the pieces of string he held cut deep into each hand.  Two large and heavy books hung from the ends.  After ten minutes, it felt that he was holding boulders. 

“Yesterday, I explained my rules.  Breaking them earns punishment.  Cartwright has been insolent.  Let this be an example to you all.”

What the heck had gone wrong?

Entering the empty classroom, Joe had asked for permission to speak.  He’d stated his plea simply and asked it with respect and honest concern.  When Mr. Jenkins smiled, Joe was delighted.  Maybe he had a heart, after all?   Then he’d looked into those eyes.

His jaw shook from the force of the clenching while he fought to keep his arms up.  Sweat ran down his back.  Minutes ticked by, that hung around like hours.  Told to stop, he dropped the books.  Collapsing back in his seat, Joe massaged his arms to fend off the waves of pain shooting up and down them.  But Mr. Jenkin’s hadn’t finished.

“You will complete the afternoon’s assignment and not leave until you do.”

Joe gritted his teeth and got stuck in.  But with only thirty minutes left, by school’s end, he was still working by the time the class was dismissed.  He was left alone with the man.

The way Jenkins hovered over Joe like some starving vulture raised the hairs on the back of his neck.  He wasn’t about to let the man intimidate him, so he plowed on until he’d chalked the last answer.  Long, bony fingers reached over his shoulder and picked up his tablet.  Joe’s heart raced while Jenkins read.

“You may go Cartwright.  I expect there to be no repeat of today.”

Keeping his eyes lowered, Joe replied, “Yes, Sir.”

Even kicking Red into a gallop didn’t stop Joe from being late home.  Clattering into the yard, he raced through taking care of his horse and began his chores.  His arms ached like the devil, slowing him down, and supper was on the table by the time he’d washed up.

Sliding into his seat, he mumbled, “Sorry I’m late, Pa.”

Any hopes there would be no questions died.

Question one.  “Why are you late?”

“Sorry, Pa.  Chores took longer than usual.”  It wasn’t exactly a lie.  Thanks to his arms, it was true.

“And you were late back, too,” Adam revealed.

Joe shot his brother a look of burning resentment.  Trust Adam to have seen him and told.  Hoss shot his older brother a look of reproach, but it was too late.  The damage had been done. 

Question two held a slight edge.  “Why was that?”

Joe swallowed, replying in a small voice, “I got kept after school.”

Question three teetered on trouble. 

“Why were you kept behind?”

Joe swallowed harder.  Keeping his head down, he confessed in an even smaller voice, “I didn’t manage to finish the afternoon’s assignment.  I had to stay ‘till I did.”

“Were you being lazy?”

“No, Sir!”  Joe looked right at Pa.  Upset that he could think such a thing.  His father’s gaze bored into him in that way, where he seemed to know everything he was thinking.

“All right, but don’t be late again.”

Interrogation over Joe’s resentment at Adam and wariness to escape further recriminations kept him silent throughout supper. 

“May I be excused?”

Permission received, Joe slipped out of his chair and scurried up the stairs.  His father’s voice drifting up to him halted his progress to his room.  Instead, he stopped out of sight at the top of the stairs to listen.

“I thought we’d gotten past this nonsense about school.”

“I expect he’s just flexing his muscles with the new schoolmaster,” came Adam’s cool reply.

“What!  He’d better not be giving the man any trouble?”

“Course not, Pa.  Little Joe wouldn’t do that,” Hoss countered.

Back pressed against the wall, Joe smiled.  Good ol’ Hoss, but typical Older Brother to think the worst of him.

***

Chapter Five

Joe’s gaze flicked around the schoolroom.  It was awful how the school had changed.  This was only the schoolmaster’s third day.  Yet every child sat silent and rigid, fearful to draw the man’s attention onto them.  Why would any teacher think that was a good thing?  Who’d have thought they’d all be yearning for the return of Miss Jones?  The pleasure Jenkins took in wielding his cane sickened Joe.  The stories he’d heard about schools where brutal punishments were doled out didn’t seem so far-fetched now.  The looks of helplessness on his friend’s faces reflected his.  There was nothing they could do. 

By arithmetic, he was desperate to stop the man’s cruelty.  Then, an idea occurred that sent a shiver through him.  Could he do it?  Called forward to solve a cipher, Joe took a breath and tried to steady his racing heart.

Asked a question, Joe gave the wrong answer.  Again and again and again.  Each stroke from the cane was harder than the one before, and Joe saw the pulse begin to throb in Jenkins’ neck.

He fixed Joe with a glare.  “What is ten minus two?”

Joe could feel the tension crackling off the walls.  Nervous giggles escaped, and Jenkin’s gaze shot around the room before returning to Joe.  His look dared him to get the simple cipher wrong.  Joe accepted the challenge.  Taking hold of his courage, he replied, “Six, Sir.”

Pointing to his hand, Jenkins hissed, “Turn it over.”  Joe flipped his hand and flinched when the cane snapped across his knuckles.  “I’m warning you, boy.  Don’t test me.”

Joe held the man’s gaze, hot green against ice grey.

“What is ten minus two?”

“Seven, Sir?”

The hand holding the cane shook from anger.  Swallowing hard, Joe knew the next stroke would be the hardest yet.  He wasn’t wrong, and Jenkins delivered three.  Teeth clenched, he swallowed down his cries.

Jenkins didn’t repeat the question.  Instead, he dismissed the children for lunch.  Joe waited for the retribution to fall.  Expectation turned to puzzlement when the schoolmaster walked away and returned to his desk.

“Would you care to explain yourself?  You obviously knew the answer.  Why did you pretend to be ignorant?”

Thrown off-balance by the calmness of Jenkin’s questions, Joe lifted his chin.  “I…I didn’t want you caning the others.  If you wanna cane someone, cane me.  I can take it.”

“I see.”  Under the man’s penetrating gaze, Joe shifted on his feet, suddenly unsure of himself.  “You don’t like how I teach, is that it?”

His certainty wilted, but Joe struggled on.  “It isn’t right to cane the little ones.”

“But you agree.  I do have that right.”

Joe’s innate honesty couldn’t let him deny it.  Taking a resigned breath, he answered, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.  Now tell me, Cartwright. What would you do if you were me and a pupil undermined you the way you did?”

Swallowing hard, the reality of his actions hit Joe.  Pa had taught him always to respect his elders, and especially his teacher.  He’d abused that in the worst possible way, which meant only one thing.  His heart sank to his boots.  “I’d punish him, Sir.”

“Then we are agreed.”  Jenkins smiled.  “Fetch me your lunch pail.”

It shocked Joe to see his lunch dumped in the bin.  Food was not something a man wasted, and he had to force down his outrage.  When Jenkins pointed to the pile of books, Joe groaned but resigned himself.

Head hung low.  Joe held out the note.

Joe spent the rest of the day writing lines on the board.  Dismissing him, Mr. Jenkins handed him the dreaded note.  Now he was late, tired, hurting, and Pa would be madder than a hornet.  To make it worse, he deserved it.

Hoss and Adam stopped short when they entered the house.  Sensing trouble, they took off their coats and gun belts in silence.

“Is this true?  You undermined and disrespected Mr. Jenkins?”

Joe swallowed over the lump in his throat, “Yes, Sir.”

His head jerked back when his father waved the note under his nose.  “Yes, Sir?  Yes, Sir?  Did I bring you up to be insolent to a teacher?”

The ferocious words roared over Joe like a hot summer wind.  “I’m sorry, Pa.”

“Put your slate away and do your chores.  We’ll discuss this later.”

Joe fled up the stairs, knowing what that meant.

Adam walked to the desk.  “What is it?”

“Your younger brother has undermined the teacher in front of the whole class.”

“Don’t sound like Little Joe,” Hoss said.

“You just heard him admit it.”

“Yeah, but Pa, he wouldn’t do that for no reason.”

“Do you think it’s because he wants to leave school again?”  Adam received a hard glare.  His father was in an uncompromising mood. 

“If it is, I’ll make sure he knows he won’t succeed with tactics like this.” 

Marching passed Adam, Ben screwed up the note and flung it into the fire before heading to the kitchen.  No doubt he was going to ask Hop Sing to put supper back.

“Sure is mad,” Hoss commented.  “Hope he calms down afore he has that necessary talk.”

Adam sat down in his favorite chair and picked up the paper.  He had little sympathy for Joe and considered Hoss’s concern a sign of overindulgence.  “Sometimes I think little brother could benefit from a taste of Pa when he’s really mad.  He’s taken it easy on him for too long.”

The hissing noise coming from Hoss caused Adam to look over his shoulder.  Standing on the stairs was their younger brother, who’d heard every word.

“Oh, Lord,” Adam murmured.  Joe ran out of the house.  “I didn’t mean for him to hear, but it mightn’t be such a bad thing.”

He saw Hoss disagreed.  Adam dug in, damned if he would apologize for telling the truth.

Stung by Adam’s words, Joe was still running when he reached the barn.  Why did Adam always think the worst?  His whole life, Joe had been brought up knowing that everyone on a ranch pulled their weight.  Joe had always done that.  Sure, there’d been times when he’d slipped out on a chore to go fishing or riding.  But what was a man to do when the sun shone and the smell of pine tempted you away?  Besides, nobody was perfect.  Except Adam!  Joe’s gaze shot back toward the house and his eldest brother within.  He bit his lip.  He still had to face that necessary talk.  There was nothing for it except to tell Pa everything and hope he’d understand.

The tantalizing smell of fried chicken wafted from the kitchen.  Joe’s mouth watered, and his empty stomach rumbled.  The rake flew over the floor, and aching muscles were ignored while his thoughts filled with images of biting down on that crisp, juicy meat. 

Joe headed for the kitchen pump.  Washed up, he made for the table.  Dismay hit him when Pa stood.  “Let’s go have that talk.”

Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “Oh, no!  Can’t I eat—” he broke off seeing the look on his father’s face.  He’d done it again!

Pa’s finger came up rigid and pointing.  “Upstairs!”

Joe paced his room.  Panic tightened his chest as he tried to prepare his explanation.  What he hadn’t expected was for Pa to be furious.  Marching in, he put Joe over his knee and spanked him without saying a word.  Pushed upright, Joe stood rigid while his father raged over him. 

“I never want to receive a note like that again.  From now on, you will respect your teacher.  There’ll be no supper.  Get to bed.”

When the door closed, Joe’s world crashed around him.  His father had always been the person he’d looked up to.  Who provided the moral compass to his life and the man he wanted to grow up to be.  But he hadn’t given him a chance.  Not to explain or even to talk.  That pain hurt far more than any punishment.

Ben stood in the hallway.  Joe hadn’t cried, but something he saw on his son’s face gave him pause.

For the first time in his life, Ben had broken his rules.  Punishing the boy while he was angry and not asking or waiting to hear his son’s side of the story.  He hadn’t even had the necessary talk, so the boy understood why he’d been punished.  He almost went back – almost.  Shaking off his misgivings, he returned downstairs.

***

Chapter Six

Joe endured another morning of unrelenting punishment and watched his lunch go in the trash again.  On top of that, Jenkins continued to inflict his increasing unpleasantness on the gloom-ridden class.  Whatever morsel of remorse remained within him over yesterday’s confrontation evaporated when little Katie Brown began struggling with her history recitation.  Joe’s heart went out to the little girl when she started to cry.

“Tears are a wicked way to avoid work.  Stop them at once or be punished.”  Grabbing her wrist, he held out her hand and raised the cane.  “I will count to three.  You will cease your disgraceful show of emotion.”

How could the little girl stop crying with that threat hanging over her?  When Jenkins reached ‘two,’ the last of Joe’s resolve snapped.  He sprang from his seat.

“Stop!  Can’t you see you’re scaring her?”

He didn’t need to hear Sara gasp his name to know what he’d done, but it was too late to back down.

“What did you say?”

“Leave her alone.”

“How dare you!  You will apologize at once.”

“She can’t help crying.  You’re scaring her.”

“Are you refusing to apologize?”

Joe couldn’t believe this guy.  All he cared about was getting an apology.  Well, he could whistle for it!  “Yes, Sir!”

The sight of the smug schoolmaster sitting in his home fractured Joe’s plan to tell Pa everything.

Joe’s earlier defiance had brought swift, painful, but drawn-out retribution.  Made to stay behind and clean the classroom, he’d been relieved when Mr. Jenkins hadn’t remained to watch him complete his task.  Now he knew why.

He watched Pa stand.  The rigid set of his jaw and shoulders told him how mad he was.

“Mr. Jenkins tells me you were insolent today and refused to apologize.  You will do so now.”

It wasn’t too late.  If he could get his side across, maybe Pa would understand.  “Pa, whatever he told you—”

“Joseph, I don’t want to hear anything but an apology.”

“Pa, you’ve gotta listen!”

“No, I don’t!  You will do as I bid.”

“I won’t!  I won’t say sorry.  Not to him!”

“How dare you!  Go to your room!”

The wave of fury that rolled off his father knocked him back a step.  It took all his courage to walk and not bolt up the stairs.  At the top, out of sight, he plastered himself against the wall and listened.

He couldn’t believe Pa hadn’t let him explain.  The gloating face of the teacher had goaded him into his refusal, and his legs shook at the memory of his defiance.  But he had to know.  Would Pa believe the lies Jenkins told?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jenkins, I don’t know what’s come over the boy.  He didn’t want to return to school this year, but I thought he’d gotten over that.”

“I didn’t know that.  Thank you, Mr. Cartwright.  That explains a great deal.  The resentment, constant disruption, and defiance culminating in today’s incident.”

“But he’d settled down.  Miss Jones was so pleased with him.  She’d told me how hard he’d worked helping the younger children.”

“Ahh, I’m sure Joseph was loathed to behave in such a way toward her.  But to me?  A stranger and a man.  I expect he found that much easier.  Don’t you agree?  No doubt he planned to keep it up until he got his wish to be expelled.”

“Expelled!  You can’t mean?”

“No, Mr. Cartwright, I don’t plan on letting him get his way.  I’m not giving up on Joseph.  I’m sure I can put him on the right path.  Can I rely on you to support whatever actions I deem necessary?”

“Of course, I’m sure anything you decide will be appropriate.  I’ll talk to Joseph.”

“Thank you.  However, I trust a suitable punishment will also be in order?”

“Rest assured on that.  Thank you, and I’m sorry you had to make the trip out here, especially in this weather.”

Joe stumbled to his room.  His fingers dug deep into his blankets, curling to clutch it tight.  His mind struggled to accept what he’d heard.

When his father appeared, the look on his face set Joe’s heart pounding.  Any hopes of telling his story died when he received a repeat of the previous day’s punishment.

Standing again before his father, he was told, “You will apologize tomorrow.”

Joe fought his quivering lip.  “No.  I won’t.”

“I will not have a teacher disrespected.  Do I need to punish you again?”

Betrayal and hurt battered Joe.  All he’d done was protect a little girl from a bully, and he wasn’t being given the chance to explain.  His entire life, he’d been told a man should do the right thing.  He stared at his father.  Pa was never wrong, but this time he was.  The realization shook his whole world, and Joe made an immense decision.  He didn’t need and wouldn’t ask for Pa’s help.  He’d take on Jenkins by himself.

“Yes, Sir, you will.  You can punish me every day, but I’ve made my decision, and I ain’t changing my mind.  I’m fourteen and old enough to take responsibility for it.”

He saw acceptance settle onto his father’s face, along with disappointment.  “I can’t spank you every day.  So, until you come to your senses, I’ll find another punishment.  But I’m ashamed of you.”

His father’s devastating parting words burned Joe’s resentment deeper.  The child in him whispered, ‘When Pa finds out the truth, he’ll be sorry.’  But then the thought slithered into his mind, ‘What if he isn’t?’  It terrified him more than anything endured so far, but he’d fixed his path, and he wasn’t straying from it.

Ben sat up long into the night.  The fire next to him sank along with the brandy in his glass.  Over and over, he ran through all that had taken place.  Ben took another sip of brandy, steadying nerves still shaken by their talk.  The strange look that had settled in his youngest eyes haunted him.  He didn’t understand it, but it sent a cold shiver through his heart.

***

Chapter Seven

“One thing’s fer sure he don’t like you, Little Joe.”

Mitch gave the grinning Seth a shove. “This ain’t funny.  He’s really got it in for Joe.  Did you tell your Pa?”

Joe turned away as he pulled off his saddle.  The events of the last evening still too raw to talk about.  “No, I didn’t, and I ain’t gonna.”

His friends exchanged looks.  Joe marched away.

“Children, I have news.  Since Cartwright has volunteered, he will receive the punishment for your errors.”

Glancing up, Joe caught the satisfied smirk on the schoolmaster’s face.  Jutting out his chin, he looked away.  If that was the game he wanted to play.  Fine.

“Meanwhile, you will be writing lines.”  Joe prepared to go to the chalkboard, but a pile of paper and a pencil was set before him.  “You will write, ‘I will not sin’.”

Joe dropped the pencil at the first stab of pain and frowned at the speck of blood bubbling on his finger.  His hand clenched when he saw the razor-sharp pieces of glass pushed into the pencil’s length. 

The schoolteacher hissed in his ear, “When you’re ready to apologize, return the pencil to me.”

Joe flashed him a look of defiance and picked up the pencil.

Mitch whispered, “You can’t.  It’ll cut your hands to pieces.”

Joe began to write.

When the day ended, Joe was called to the teacher’s desk.  He laid the pile of sheets down and set the bloodied pencil on the top.  Jenkins held out a note between two long fingers.  “Care to apologize now?”

Curling a lip, Joe shook his head.

He watched Pa read the teacher’s message.  He didn’t care what was in it.  He knew it was a lie, and that’s all that mattered.  Any faith in his father asking him about it had long since died.  Even if Pa asked, he wasn’t telling.  He’d taken on this fight, and he would see it through.

“Get Hop Sing to take care of your hand before you do your chores.  We can’t risk infection.”

Tapping the edge of the note on his desk, Ben watched Joe go.  To hear he’d cut himself showing off with his pocket knife baffled him.  Hadn’t he taught him better than that?

Ben let his chin drop to rest on linked fingers.  Every day, Joe’s behavior seemed to be getting worse.  How could that happen in less than a week?

It galled him beyond belief to have the schoolmaster come to his home and tell him how disruptive his son was being.  Listening to the man’s thinly veiled hints that Ben’s lack of discipline was at the root of it made it even worse.  Little Joe had always been headstrong and spirited.  That’s what made Joe, Joe.  But Ben believed that spirit had been tempered by his installing good manners and respect for others in him.  Or so he thought.  Was it possible he’d failed?  To see Little Joe being lazy, argumentative, disrespectful, and downright disobedient was a shock, and now he’d added childish showing off and stupidity to that list.

Why was he doing this?  Surely, he must know that leaving school wasn’t going to happen?  He would never allow Joe to be expelled.  The very thought was repugnant.

Ben tightened his hands under his chin.  Doubt coursed through him.  Was he being unfair?  Were things really that bad?  Had he been too hard on Little Joe?

So lost in thought, his father wasn’t even aware of him.  Seeing the creased brow and eyes dark with worry tightened Adam’s chest with annoyance.  It wasn’t hard to guess the cause.  Didn’t Pa have enough to deal with without Joe’s foolishness?

“Everything all right?”

Broken out of his abstraction, his father looked up. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Little Joe?”

With a sigh, his father handed him the note.

Adam’s annoyance grew at this new piece of idiocy.  He cut a look up from the note at his father.  What he saw there made him determined to help.  Pa had always been there for him.  Maybe he could return the favor.  “I could talk to him.”

“Would you?”

It pained him to hear the gratitude in his father’s voice.  “Sure.  I’ll go speak to him now.”

Adam found him raking straw, his bandaged hand hampering his efforts.  Leaning against a post, Adam watched his awkward movements.  No sympathy stirred within him.  Joe had brought the difficulties on himself.

Adam got straight to the point.  “I want to talk to you about what’s going on.”

Joe jumped and turned.  “Leave it, Adam, ain’t none of your business.”

“If it affects the family, it is my business.  Do you know how much this is upsetting Pa?”  Little Joe hunched a shoulder and turned his back on his brother.  Adam’s lips pursed, and his anger rose.  His brother was infuriating.  “Look, this business of you wanting to leave school.  I thought we were past all that?”

“Leave school?  I don’t wanna leave school.”

“If you don’t, what’s this stupidity all about?”

“It ain’t stupid.”

Fed up with Joe’s nonsense, Adam hooked him under the arm and pulled him close.  His brother’s eyes flared in alarm.  Good, it was about time Joe remembered he was a force to be reckoned with.

“Don’t you sass me, boy, or I’ll put you over my knee.  Pa might put up with your nonsense, but I won’t.  It’s time you stopped behaving like the spoilt brat you are.”  He gave Joe a dismissive push away from him and added, “Understood?”

When he began to turn away, his youngest brother released the rake, letting it drop to the floor.  The next moment, Joe’s fist connected with his jaw.  Adam lurched back, and his heel caught in a pile of hay.  Flailing arms failed to right his balance, and he hit the ground with a thud!

Joe sailed through the air to land on him.  Battered from above, Adam was livid.  The punches weren’t accurate, but they still smart.  He knew hitting his brother could do him real damage, but take this, he wouldn’t! Grabbing Joe’s arms, he tossed him aside like a sack of flour.  Joe hit the ground, rolled, jumped up, and headed right back.  Adam scrambled to his knees and braced to receive him, but before Joe could reach him, a pair of strong arms grabbed his brother.

“Whoa there, Little Joe.  That’s enough.”

“Let me go!  I’m gonna pummel him!”

“You quiet now, you here?  You ain’t pummeling nobody.”

Unable to reach Adam with his fists, Joe kicked out at him.  Adam dodged back to avoid Joe’s flying feet.

“Dagnabbit Little Joe.  You stop that now.  You can’t fight Adam.”

“I don’t care!  I hate him!”

“JOSEPH! ”

Their father’s entry took them all by surprise.  Joe slumped within his brother’s arms and hung his head.

“I’m sorry, Pa.  Adam, I didn’t mean it.”

Though shocked, Adam had to admit he might’ve pushed Joe into the outburst.  Keen to deflect some blame, he said, “It’s partly my fault.  I lost my temper, too.”

“I didn’t hear you say you hate your brother.”

“I didn’t mean it, really.”

“I should hope not.  Get your chores done and go to your room.  I don’t want to see you for the rest of the evening.”

Adam had tried his best.  There was nothing more he could do.  Shrugging, he followed his father and brother back to the house.

Dishes were dumped on the table before him, and Hop Sing complained, “Little Joe growing boy.  He need eat!”

Beside him, Hoss added his plea, “Yeah, Pa.  He can’t go on not having supper.”

Ben hated to punish his son this way.  Everyone worked hard, and good food was essential.  But he was running out of ideas and patience.

“What choice do I have?  Besides, he still has breakfast and lunch.  Missing a few meals won’t hurt him.”

“Pa, I don’t know about all this.  This ain’t like Little Joe.  What this teacher’s been saying, just don’t sit right.”

“Joseph admitted he’d been disrespectful.”

“Yeah, but he looks so unhappy.”

“It’s his decision not to apologize.  He says he can take responsibility for that, and he will.”

Ben saw the concern in his middle son’s eyes and how he glanced at Adam, hoping for support, which he failed to get.  At least Adam understood his position.

A dish of potatoes dropped in front of Ben.   “Growing boy need every meal.”

Looking up, he found his cook still there, glaring at him.

“I said no supper, and I mean, no supper.”

A string of Chinese erupted as Hop Sing returned to the kitchen.  Ben hunched a shoulder and tried to ignore him.

***

Joe rolled off his bed when he heard the tap, tap, tapping.  Pushing up the window, he stared at Hoss.  “What’re you doing here?”

“Don’t ask dumb questions.  Let me in.”

Taking the bandana, Joe climbed back on the bed and unwrapped the apple pie.  The buttery pastry and sweet deliciousness of the apples with the hint of cinnamon were like heaven.

Hoss crossed one leg over the other.  “What’s going on, Little Brother?”

Joe chewed on his mouthful.  It was tempting to pour it all out to Hoss, but he’d vowed to take care of this himself and meant to stick by that.

“Stay out of it.  T’aint none of your business.”  He didn’t like to see the hurt in his brother’s eyes, but it couldn’t be helped.  When Hoss climbed out of the window, Joe went after him.  Leaning out, he told him.  “Hoss.  Thanks for the pie.”

“Anytime.”

***

Chapter Eight

The schoolhouse was quiet.  Fear pervaded the air like the stench of the dung heap.  Fearful not to do anything that would bring down the teacher’s retribution on Little Joe, the children sat silent and anxious in their seats.

Jenkins was pleased, the silence blissful.  His father had taught him a silent child was a sinless one.  Sin could not be allowed to grow and fester.  Every Godfearing man’s duty should be to drive it out using any means necessary.

His father had purged the evil from him, and he proudly carried on that calling.  He would do the same with these children, especially the evil child.  When he looked at Joe, the fires of salvation burned hot within him.  Wickedness lurked beneath the boy’s angelic mask, and he longed to rip it out. 

Jenkins turned to the window.  All morning, dark clouds had been rolling down from the mountains.  They released their burdens.  The rain pounded at the panes.  Closing his eyes, Jenkins listened to the drops striking the glass.  Cleansing, God-given rain.  His eyes shot open.  Smiling, he sent up his silent prayer, ‘Thank you, Lord, for showing me the way.’

Joe set down the heavy stack of books he’d been holding when he was called to toe the line.  Fingers laced together, the teacher peered across at him.

“You will continue your punishment outside, Cartwright.  Our Lord’s purifying rain will wash away your sins.”

“Outside?” Joe repeated, unsure he’d even heard the man right.

“I will leave the door open so I can see you.”

A murmur of discontent ran through the class.  The day was freezing, and this would make the whole room cold.  Joe shrugged and turned to get his coat.  The following words spun him around in alarm.

“Without your coat.”

Mitch jumped up.  “You can’t do that!  He’ll freeze out there!”

“Silence!  Sit down, or do you wish me to punish Cartwright for your impudence first.”

Joe looked at Mitch.  His friend’s anger and frustration showed in his clenched fists, but there was nothing he could do. 

The rain wouldn’t last for long, Joe knew that, but it was heavy and drenched Joe within minutes.  He ducked his head, trying to avoid the drops like tiny knives that hit his skin.  Giggles escaped between chattering teeth when he imagined Hop Sings reaction to his soaking clothes.  His abused muscles ached, the uncontrolled shivering jarring at them.

Everything was numb.  The heat from the stove made no impact on his frozen flesh.  Joe gazed at the floor, watching dark circles form from the water that dripped from his hair and clothes.  Sitting at his desk, Jenkins preached and ranted.  The words pouring forth washed over him like a waterfall.  He wondered if the man would ever stop.  Finally, they did.  His brain took a minute to realize that he could go.  He dragged on his coat, but his fingers refused to cooperate and do up his buttons.  He gave up.  What did it matter?  His clothes were wet anyway.  Pulling on his scarf and hat, he stepped into the bitter air.

Jenkins hummed while he gathered his books.  The boy had been quiet and respectful throughout his sermon.  The most attentive he’d ever been.  He had done God’s work that day and was pleased.  He hummed louder and left for his lodging with a rare smile.

***

Chapter Nine

Hop Sing glanced out the kitchen window for the hundredth time, watching for Mr. Cartwright.  He needed to speak with him about Little Joe.  The smell sent him rushing back to the stove.  Pulling down the oven plate, he grabbed the pie and cursed when he saw he’d let part of the crust burn. 

He wasn’t happy with himself and not just for the pie.  Why hadn’t he paid attention the first time Little Joe came to him with that hand?  But this morning, he had.

“What this?  What you do?”  He’d demanded and clucked in his throat while he’d turned the hand, aghast at the cuts on one side and the welts on the other.

“I’m gonna be late, Hop Sing, please, just bandage it,”

“No.  Need show this to father.”

“I can’t!  Pa’s already gone, and I’m late.  Please, Hop Sing.”

In all of Joe’s young life, Hop Sing had never been proof against the boy’s begging, and that morning was no exception.  He’d done as asked, but Hop Sing was no fool.  He guessed there was more to Joe’s troubles than met the eye.  And on top of the hand, Little Joe was late again.  When he saw Ben’s horse, he ran into the living room. 

“Mr. Cartwright, I need talk about Little Joe.  Hop Sing very worried.”

“What’s he done now?”

“Boy, not done anything.  He not home yet.  I want talk about hand.”

“Not home?  Hand?  What are you talking about?”

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.  Hop Sing made no move to answer it, and his employer went himself.

“Paul, come in.  Good to see you.  Join me in a cup of coffee?”

When Mr. Cartwright looked at him, Hop Sing stood his ground.  After a moment, he was prompted, “Could we have some coffee, Hop Sing?”

The frown deepened on Hop Sing’s face, torn between his sense of duty and the need to talk to his employer.  Duty won.  His talk would have to wait.

Amused, Paul asked, “Problem?”

“Just, Little Joe.” 

Ben indicated Paul took a seat and sat down in his armchair.

“Actually, the school’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh, is something wrong?”

Warming his hands at the roaring fire, Paul considered the question.  “That’s just it.  I’m not sure.”  Paul scratched his nose, mulling over what to say and how to explain his disquiet.  “It’s just that some things have happened that have me wondering.”

The door opened, and Adam and Hoss rushed in.

“Whew!  Dadburned freezing out there.”  Hoss unwound his muffler.  “Hi, Doc.  What brings you out here?”

“He was just about to tell me.”  Ben turned back to Paul.  “What’s worrying you about the school?”

“I might be being foolish, but I got called to Katie Brown’s house this morning.  Ben, I couldn’t find a darn thing wrong with that child until I mentioned going back to school.  Now, that little girl loves school, but she got so upset at the idea she threw up.  Then there’s Tom Wilkins.  I saw his ma yesterday.  He’s left school altogether.”

“What’re you getting at Paul?”

Paul ran his hand down his chin.  “The children weren’t playing.”

Hoss and Adam lowered themselves onto the sofa, focusing on the doctor. 

“What d’you mean?” Ben asked

“I watched them outside at break today.  Not one, not one child, was running or playing.  They sat around huddled together.  I’ve never seen a bunch of kids look that miserable.”

The sixth sense that warned Ben of trouble began to scratch.  Was there more to what was happening with Little Joe than he realized?

“Where is Little Joe?” Adam asked.

“He’s not home yet.”

All eyes went to the clock.

“Dadburnit, Pa, it’s pitch-black an’ freezin’ out there.  That darn teacher ain’t got no business keeping anyone back in weather like this.”

Hop Sing set down the coffee tray.  “And there is Little Joe’s hand.  It cut up bad. How’d he do that?”

Worry crept into Ben’s voice as he explained, “He cut it playing with his knife, showing off.”

“That not right.  Many, many little cuts, not one big cut from knife.”

Ben’s gut began to tie itself in knots.  They would have to find Joe.  Another knock at the door drew his attention.  This time, Hop Sing answered.

Jack Devlin, Mitch’s father, stepped through the door.  “Ben, is Little Joe home?” 

A premonition of doom clutched Ben’s heart at the expression on the man’s face.  “No.”

“I think he may be in trouble.  Mitch came home today and told me what’s been goin’ on at school.  That so-called teacher has been caning them kids.  But Ben, Mitch tells me he’s got it in for Little Joe.  He had him standing outside in the rain.”  Jack broke off and swallowed.  “Mitch says he was out there the whole time without a coat.”

“Dear Lord,” Ben gasped.

Paul was at his shoulder.  “We have to find him.  In this weather, soaked through, hypothermia could easily set in.”

Ben stared at his friend.  He had to force his mind to think, force himself to breathe.  The dangers of getting wet in these conditions were too familiar.  They had to move fast.

“Hoss, go saddle both our horses.”

“I’m coming too.”

“No, Adam, I need you to stay in case he makes it home.  Let’s get some blankets.  We’ll put them in Paul’s buggy.”

Paul turned to Hop Sing.  “Prepare all the hot water bottles you’ve got and put on some broth.  We’ll need to warm him inside as well as out.”

The little cook dashed off.  Left alone, Paul and Jake Devlin looked at each other.

“What kind of man does that to kids, Doc?”

Paul shook his head, bewildered.  “I don’t know. Not a good one, I know that much.”

***

Chapter Ten

Unbearable cold imprisoned his consciousness.  Deadened fingers and numbed legs failed to guide his horse, and he sagged further in his saddle.  Beneath him, Red plodded along, instinct drawing him back to his warm stable.

He felt nothing when he slipped from his saddle and hit the ground.  Face lying in the icy mud, he welcomed the dark that sucked him down. 

The shivering had stopped.  He wasn’t cold anymore, and warmth danced on his cheek.  His eyes opened to see the fire that roared around the logs in orange and yellow shimmering hues.  Above the fireplace, stockings hung.  Was it Christmas already?  The soft humming drew his gaze.  Ma was nailing up the last sock.  His eyes popped wider.  It was his!  He laughed and reached out a hand, but when he did, she began to fade along with the fire.  His fingers curled, and he let his hand drop, welcoming the darkness.

When Ben heard Hoss’s shout, he sent Buck into a canter.  Hoss was off Chubb.  Heart in his throat, he spotted the huddled, motionless figure his son was leaning over.

***

Paul removed his stethoscope from Joe’s chest and pulled up the blankets.  “We were lucky, Ben.  We got to him in time.”

For the first time since finding his boy lying in the road, Ben allowed himself to hope, something that would’ve been too dangerous an occupation before.  He shot a look at Adam and Hoss, their relief no less than his own. 

“He’s going to be all right?”

“I think so.  But now he’s comfortable, let’s look at that hand.”  Removing the existing bandage, Paul drew a breath.  “Hop Sing’s right.  No knife did this.”

Adam spoke up, “Jake told me everything.  Jenkins made Little Joe use a pencil spiked with sharpened pieces of glass.  His note was a lie.”

Hot with anger, Hoss’s blue gaze rested on the ravaged, raw hand.  “What kinda man is this teacher anyways?”

Ben’s hands knotted into fists.  “Some kind of sadist.”

Paul grimaced at the welts and cut knuckles.  “Look.  My God.  He did this over days.”

Ben took Joe’s hand from the doctor, handling it like fragile glass.  How could he have let this happen?

Once again, Adam filled them in.  “Joe interfered when Jenkins went to cane Katie Brown.  That’s what he wouldn’t apologize for.”  Adam paused, and Ben recognized the sick look on his son’s face.  He felt the same way.  “From then on, he was caned for any other child’s mistakes.” 

“Dear Lord.” 

Ben turned to Joe, cocooned in the blankets.  His mind slipped back to the day Little Joe was born.  This abused, and battered hand had taken tight hold of his finger and heart.  He’d made the same promise to Little Joe he’d made to all his children.  To protect him and keep him safe.  He’d failed to keep that promise.

“It’s not your fault, Pa, you couldn’t have known.”

Tightening his hold on Joe’s hand, Ben shook his head. “I’m his father.  It’s my job to know.  I didn’t give him a chance to tell me.”

Paul stepped back to the bed, bowl of water in hand.  “We need to ensure that man isn’t allowed near the children again.  Why would he think this acceptable?”

Ben grunted in agreement, but his words to the schoolmaster hung over him.  Guilt piled on guilt.  A moan from the bed brought his attention back to Joe.

He rested a palm on Joe’s flushed cheek and called his name.  “Can you hear me?  It’s Pa.”

Joe stirred, and his eyelashes fluttered.  “Ma?”

Joe hadn’t called for his mother in years.  Stricken, Ben turned to Adam and Hoss.

“He’s going to be a little confused at first,” Paul told them.

“Pa?”

Ben turned his attention back to Joe.  “I’m here.  You’re gonna be all right.”

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I disappointed you.  Let you down.”

“No, son.  I was wrong.  You haven’t disappointed me.  I let you down.”

His words washed over his exhausted boy.  “I’m real tired.”

“Keep him awake, Ben.  We need to get something warm inside him,” Paul instructed.  “Can someone go down and ask Hop Sing for the broth?”

Ben didn’t notice when Adam slipped out the door, his attention on his youngest.  “Stay awake, Little Joe.  C’mon, wake up now.”

Joe opened his eyes.  “Pa.  Don’t make me go to school.  He hurts me.”

The hand that brushed Joe’s face shook.  Tears shone in Ben’s eyes.  On the other side of the bed, Hoss ducked his head and turned away.  “Don’t worry, son.  Mr. Jenkins will never hurt you again.  I promise.”

The door opened, and Adam returned, followed by Hop Sing.

“Broth just right.  Little Joe can drink this up.”

Hoss helped Joe sit up, and Ben took the bowl from Hop Sing.  “We’ve got some food for you.”

“Food?” 

The eager way Joe took the soup made Ben smile.

Hoss chuckled.  “You sure are hungry.”

Joe nodded and swallowed his mouthful.  “Yeah.  Didn’t get no lunch.”

“Why’s that?” Ben asked.

“Mr. Jenkins threw it away.”

“He had no right to do that,” Hoss exclaimed.

“And I punished him with no supper.”  If regrets were boulders, a ton of them would’ve buried Ben.

Having finished dressing Joe’s hand, Paul tucked it under the blanket.  “We can let him rest now.  Let’s talk downstairs.”

“Little Joe will be tired for the next few days.  Don’t be concerned about that.  Our biggest worry is pneumonia.  You’ll need to watch for any signs.”  Three strained faces looked back at him.  “Now, what are we gonna do about that so-called teacher?”

“Jake’s gonna ride in before church tomorrow and see Amos, the Reverend, and the Sheriff.  They’ll hold him,” Adam said.  His father shifted in his seat.  Only half his attention was in the room.  He knew where the other half was. 

“Paul, I can’t thank you enough for this.  I’m going back up to Little Joe now.”

Watching Ben go, Paul commented, “He’s taking this hard.”

Adam could hear the suppressed fury in his brother’s voice when he told Paul, “Pa blames hisself.  That man came to our home and told him a pack of lies.  Pa punished him because of those lies.”  

“We didn’t know that.”

Hoss jumped up and began to pace.  “Aww, Adam, we should’ve.  We should’ve known that it weren’t like Little Joe.”

“As I recall, you told us that.  I’m the one who failed him.  I had a chance to let him tell me, and I let my temper get in the way.” 

Adam got up and walked to his father’s desk.  What he’d seen and heard that day had almost unmanned him.  How could this have happened?  Little Joe used to tell him everything.  If he’d been a better brother since his return from college, maybe he would’ve felt able to confide in him about this.  It was a bitter pill for Adam to swallow. 

The solid presence of his brother appeared by his side.  A hand dropped onto his shoulder.  “He didn’t confide in me neither.”

***

Chapter Eleven

Skulking at his window, Azariah Jenkins positioned himself to see the people below without them seeing him.  Amos Franks and his wife were talking with another man and the Parson.  The horrified expression on the woman’s face told him all he needed to know. 

The schoolmaster had seen that look before.  It distressed him the way parents could turn a blind eye to the wickedness in their children, how they objected to his methods and reacted the way Mrs. Franks did.  Then there were the questions when a boy went missing.  But he was good at moving on.  He’d had to do it a lot.

He saw the three men walk off toward the sheriff’s office and took the hint.  Gathering his things with practiced speed, he left.  When they returned with the sheriff, they found an empty room.  Jenkins’ horse had gone from the stables.  He was nowhere to be found.

***

Apart from being woken to eat and drink, Joe slept through the next day.  When he finally awoke, it was to see his father reading by his bed.  This surprised Joe, but no more than being in bed.  He’d just left school, hadn’t he?  Puzzled, he turned his head to look out the window.  The black clouds had gone, and the sky shone blue and clear.

“Little Joe?”

Joe turned to find his father smiling at him.

“Hi, Pa.  What’s going on?”

“Don’t you remember?”

Joe thought for a moment.  “I remember leaving school.”

“You were wet and cold.  You collapsed on the way home.”

“I did?”  His eyes flicked to the window again.  “Must be time to get up.”

“You stay put.  You won’t be going anywhere for a few days.”

Joe tried to push back the blankets.  Why did he feel as weak as a day-old kitten?  Pa laid a hand on his arm and pulled the blankets back.  “No. Pa.  It’s important.  I hav’ta get to school.”

“It’s all right.  For one thing, it’s Sunday, and for another, no one will be going to school tomorrow.  Mr Franks is removing Mr. Jenkins as Schoolmaster.”

“Removed?”

“Yes, removed.  No teacher has a right to behave as he did.”  Stunned by the news, he lay still.  Pa took his hand, and Joe noticed the fresh bandage.  “I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to talk and tell me what was happening.  Can you forgive me?”

Joe felt those steady, strong hands around his.  He’d missed the warmth, love, and security they gave him.  Remorse and shame hit Joe like an avalanche.  What a fool he’d been, prideful and stubborn, choosing to fight Jenkins by himself.  How could he ever have believed Pa wouldn’t have helped him?

Pa turned his injured hand.  “I would have objected to the caning, but this, this … torture!  If I could go back and undo what I did, I would.”

The pain in his father’s voice and the sadness in his eyes were too much.  He wanted to tell Pa it was his fault, but his throat thickened, and he couldn’t get the words out.  He shook his head and clutched his father’s hands, hoping he’d understand.  Joe averted his face when his chest began to heave, and tears burned his eyes.  The last thing he wanted was for Pa to see him crying like a baby.

Two gentle hands brought his face back ‘round.  “Don’t hide your feelings, especially from me.  They’re nothing to be ashamed of.  I’m proud of you, son.  Proud you stood up to that man and protected the other children.” 

Tears spilled over as his face crumpled.  Joe dropped his head to rest on his father’s chest and let those arms encircle him. 

PART II

Chapter Twelve

“What do you mean he’s gone?”

The sheriff looked Ben in the eye. “By the time I got to his room, he’d skedaddled.”

Ben slammed a fist into the palm of the other.  “How did this happen?”

Amos’s hat turned in circles in his hands.  “We don’t know.  He must’ve realized something was up.”

Both men received a look that if it could kill, they’d be ordering their pine boxes.

The sheriff went on, “I carried out a search but couldn’t find no sign of him.  I’ve sent a man to Genoa and asked them to watch out for him.  Ain’t nothin’ more I can do right now.”

Amos chipped in, “I’ve written to the Education Board letting them know what’s happened.  I’ve asked them to withdraw Mr. Jenkins’s teaching certificate and send out the necessary notifications.”

Hoss muttered something, which only ‘shut,’ ‘door,’ and ‘bolted’ could be made out.

Ben rolled his eyes at him but said nothing.  Frustration pressed against his chest like a bronc in the chute waiting for release.  “If I sign a complaint, can a warrant be issued?”

“You bet.  You make out that complaint, and I’ll happily write up a warrant.”

“What’s happening ‘bout school?” Hoss asked.

Amos replied, “The children were sent home this morning.  The school will be closed until after Christmas when Miss Jones returns.  They’ll get a nice long holiday.”

“After what them poor mites have been through, that’s the least they deserve.”

Flushing, Amos said, “We’d best be going now.  I’m glad to hear Little Joe’s all right.”

The new sheriff didn’t follow Amos when he rushed out the door.  Instead, he fixed Ben with his steady gaze.  “I’ll keep lookin’.  We’ll get him.”

Taking the man’s hand, Ben regretted his previous temper.  Roy Coffee was a good sheriff.  Ben knew he would do his best.  “Thanks, Roy.”

“Sure hope you catch him.”

“Me too, Hoss.”

Hop Sing appeared at the top of the stairs.  “Little Joe, back in bed.  Feel better after bath.  Nice and clean.”

“Good, I’ll take him up some food.”

Tray in hand, Ben walked down the hall.  Then he heard the cough.  Halting, he held his breath.  There was another, then another.  He hurried into the room.

“You okay, son?”

He found Joe’s head cool under his hand, but Joe’s brow creased, and he muttered, “Aww, I’m fine.  I just coughed, is all.”

Ben tutted as his cheeky youngster.  “I’ve brought you some soup, nice and hot.”

He continued to fuss around the room while Joe ate.  Seeing no reason to burden Joe, he made no mention of Jenkins.

The cough continued.  Paul arrived in the afternoon to find an anxious Ben waiting for him.

“Yes, he has a cough and a slight temperature, but his lungs are clear.  Provided we keep him warm, give him plenty of good hot food, there’s no case to worry.”

Ben relaxed and smiled at Adam and Hoss.  They stood by the bed on either side of their younger brother like guard dogs.

“I need to be going,” Paul continued, winking at Joe.  “I’ve got other, much sicker, patients to see.”

The little man in the bed piped up, “Told you I was fine.”

Adam and Hoss grinned at each other, and Ben put his hands on his hips.  The boy was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open.  Hoss ruffled his hair and tucked him in while Adam drew the curtains.

***

Chapter Thirteen

Azariah Jenkins watched Ben and his two eldest ride away.  The ranch house was vulnerable.

Even as he escaped the sheriff four days ago, he knew he wouldn’t desert his mission.  Joseph Cartwright consumed him.  Of all the sinful children he’d cleansed, this one appeared the most in his dreams.  His duty was clear.  His father had taught him well.  Those who corrupt others must be saved or punished.

Waiting until he was sure no one would be returning, he urged his horse forward and closed in on his quarry.  Slipping through the silent, great room of the ranch house, he headed for the bedrooms.

Joe sighed and cocked one eye open.  How long had he slept since Pa checked on him after breakfast?  His cheek snuggled further down into his pillow.  It didn’t matter.  He wouldn’t be allowed up anyway.  A smile crossed his lips, hearing his door open.  Hop Sing this time.  Maybe he was bringing him lunch?  He sniffed the air, hoping to catch the smell of something delicious.  Turning his head, he expected to see the homely face of his friend; instead, he looked into the eyes of Mr. Jenkins.

Hands around his throat silenced the scream that ripped through him.  Thrashing and bucking, he dug fingernails deep into their flesh, trying to break the iron grip.  His arm flailed for a weapon, sending glass and jug flying.  The hands continued their relentless squeezing.  The truth exploded in his brain.  This man was killing him!  He screamed for help.  For his brothers.  For Pa.  It was a waste of time.  No sound escaped his constricted throat.  His chest jolted, and his lungs spasmed in their final desperate gasp for air.  The last thing he saw was Azariah Jenkins.

As soon as the boy went limp, Jenkins released his grip.  This was always a tense moment while he waited to see if the boy still breathed.  Joe’s chest rose and fell.  A thin smile stretched Jenkins’ lips.  Flinging blankets aside, he tossed the boy over his shoulder and left with his prize.

His foot touched the bottom step when the oriental walked into the room carrying a glass of milk and cookies. 

“What you do here?” he demanded.

“Don’t interfere, Heathen!  I must cleanse this boy of his sin.  He is the Devil’s spawn!”

“He no devil spawn.  He, Little Joe!” 

Jenkins swung Joe off his shoulder and threw him forward when the man rushed him.  It did the trick.  The interloper caught the unconscious boy, giving Jenkins time to grab the statuette on the nearby table.  Gathering Joe up, Jenkins marched out.  Behind him, the Chinaman lay unconscious, blood pooling under his head.

***

Chapter Fourteen

“I’m sure starving.  Hope Hop Sing’s got something—” 

Adam walked into his back when Hoss abruptly halted.  Seeing their cook struggling to get up, Hoss ran to him.  Blood trickled down the man’s face, and he clutched his right arm.

Adam and Ben turned to each other.  “Joe!”

Despite being the older man, Ben beat Adam to Joe’s room and burst through the open door.  The devastation gave testament to the struggle that had taken place.  The wrecked bed, strewn blankets, and shattered glass confirmed his worst fears.  Someone had stolen his son.  Turning, they raced back downstairs.

Hoss had helped Hop Sing into a chair and placed a napkin against the head wound.  He looked up when Ben appeared.  “Little Joe?”

“Gone.”

“It was the bad man, the teacher.  He took Little Joe.  Boy was unconscious.”

He’d known it.  As soon as he saw the empty bed, Ben knew who was responsible, but it didn’t stop the sick lurch his stomach gave. 

“Adam, saddle fresh horses, quick,” he instructed before turning to Hop Sing.

“He’s gotta nasty gash to the head, and I think his arm is broke.”

Ignoring Hoss’s ministration, Hop Sing told Ben, “That man not right.  He told me Little Joe spawn of Devil.”

Ben grabbed the top of the chair, his knuckles white.  How much worse can this get?  He turned to Hoss.  “Go send one of the hands to fetch Doc Martin and let the sheriff know.  Then get Charlie in here, and Hoss, see what’s burning in the kitchen.”

“You get Little Joe back?”

“Yes, we’ll get him back.”

“So sorry that I let him take boy.”

Ben squeezed his friend’s good shoulder.  “He could’ve killed you.”

“Hop Sing rather be dead than miserable body alive and Little Joe gone.”

“I wouldn’t!  What would the boys or I do without you?  I’ll get him back if it’s the last thing I do.”

Hop Sing looked happier.  Then his eyes darkened again.  “Little Joe still in bedclothes.  Did bad man take boy’s coat?”

Ben’s gaze shot to the hooks and Joe’s coat hanging there.  His eyes closed.  The temperature had plummeted, snow was in the air, and all his boy had on was his nightshirt, long johns, and socks.  Dear God, protect my son.

***

Chapter Fifteen

The darkness receded, and Joe became aware of cold air against his cheeks and the shivering that tightened his muscles and clattered his teeth.  He welcomed the blanket that was wrapped around him.  Leaning into the chest behind him, Joe sighed at the warmth, soaking it up like a sponge.  The pain radiating from his throat made him grimace.  Wooziness swept over him, but he fought it back.  Why was he out in the cold and not in bed?  The pain made it hard to talk, but he managed to croak, “Pa?”

“No, boy, not your father.  But don’t worry, I’m here to help you.”  With a sickening thud, the memory of what happened hit Joe, and he pulled away from the man behind him.  Nausea rose in his gullet when the arms around his waist tightened.  “We’re almost there.”

Joe’s heart began to race when he realized they were moving into hard country.  The rocks wouldn’t leave a trail for even Hoss to follow.  He had to do something.  Under the blanket, his hands fumbled against his nightshirt.  His fingers found the smooth, round shape of the copper buttons.  It wasn’t easy since he had to keep his movements small, but he dislodged all three.  Working one hand through the blanket, he let them fall.

The horse stopped.  In the gathering dusk of the early winter’s evening, Joe made out the entrance to a cave.  His numb legs crumpled when Jenkin’s dropped him to the floor.  Joe began to crawl.  Hands grabbed his arms, dragged him inside the cave, and tossed him against the wall.  His back hit the hard stone.  Joe cursed his numb legs.  Before he could move, Jenkins grabbed his wrists.  Jerking his arms, Joe struggled.  The back of Jenkin’s hand struck him across the cheek, sending his head to the ground.  Sparks danced in front of his eyes.  When he pushed himself upright, his hands were bound.

Joe looked around.  There was a small fire ready to be lit in front of him.  Against the opposite wall, bags were stacked, and a large rough cross made from branches tied together took up another.  Joe’s chest rose and fell seeing it.  What kind of man pretended to be so Godly but kidnapped people?

Joe watched as Jenkins settled his belongings and lit the fire, grateful for the warmth, at least.  Through the cave’s mouth, he saw the light fade.  His mouth dried.  He was trapped alone with this man.  Pulling into a tight ball, he pressed against the hard, cold rock, hoping to be forgotten.  It was a forlorn hope.  He was soon grabbed again and dragged to the cross, where he was forced to his knees.

“We must pray, boy.  Pray together to rid the wickedness in you.”

Joe squirmed, fighting the grip on his shoulders.  The fingers dug in deep as the schoolmaster recited endless prayers.  Joe let them wash over him.  He was tired and chilled to the bone.  All that kept him upright was the anger that began to boil.  Anger at being taken from his home dragged through the cold, and brought to this miserable cave to pray with this crazy man.

The cruel hands tightened their grip.  “Pray with me, boy.  Pray!”

His anger made Joe fearless.  Twisting to face Jenkins, he rasped, “I ain’t praying with you.  I’m not wicked.  You are!”

Explosions of pain erupted.  One slap followed another.  His head snapped side to side as Jenkins rained down his fury.  Shock pulsed through Joe, and under the onslaught, the budding young man retreated, replaced by the terrified child who could only beg, “Stop…  please… stop!”

The boy’s cries penetrated his rage.  Releasing him, Jenkins staggered back against the wall, covered his face with his hands, and slid to the floor.  Those were his words.

The cave melted away, transformed into the root cellar of his childhood home.  His pleas for mercy rang out.  He was to blame for the beating.  He knew that.  His father told him each time he’d brought the punishment on himself.  But he still begged, “Please, Papa.  Stop, please, stop.”

His father’s words rang again in his ears.  “You tempted me down the evil path, boy.  Now, I must take the sin from you.”

Like the flesh from his back, his sin had been stripped.  But he’d arisen stronger and closer to God as a result.  Now, like his father, this evil, sinful child tempted him.  This boy must be cleansed just as he had been.

Curled into a ball, Joe covered his head to protect his stinging face from more punishment.  He tried to stem the sobs that choked him.  Jenkins wouldn’t see him cry.  But he couldn’t stop himself from wishing his family would come.  Save him from this man and take him home.  Feeling the presence next to him, Joe snapped up his head.

“I’m sorry child.  I didn’t want to do that, but you pushed me.  I don’t want to hurt you, but you must renounce the wickedness within you.” 

When Jenkins reached for him, Joe flinched, but a hand around his arm held him in place. 

“Let me go.”

Jenkins’ fingertips brushed his face.  Joe’s skin crawled under their gentle, almost tender touch.  “Why do you do this?  What is this evil in you that must tempt a Godly man?”

When he looked into the schoolmaster’s eyes, revulsion and fear rose like bile in Joe’s throat.  He’d seen that same look in the men in the bunkhouse when they’d forgotten he was there and started talking about the women they’d known.  The fingers continue to caress his cheek, turning his stomach.  Joe stiffened.  He wasn’t a thirteen-year-old kid anymore.  He was fourteen and a man, and no one would lay their hands on him.  Jerking his head back, he knocked the hand away.

“Don’t touch me!”

The fist plowed into his chin.  His head slammed into the dirt.  Spots exploded before his eyes, and the pounding of his heart rang in his head.  The man’s breath whispered against his ear.  “I tried to resist, but I’m just a man with all the weakness of a man’s flesh.  But know this.  You will not succeed in your wickedness.  You may win now, but I will gain absolution.  Forgiveness will be mine when I strip the evil from you.”

Like a spider stalking its prey, Jenkin’s hand moved down his back.  Gravel ground into his cheek, and his shoulder screamed from the weight of the man’s arm.  None of that mattered.  Only the hand that inched down him, hitching his nightshirt as it went.  One thought pulsed through Joe’s horrified mind.  Get him off!  Rolling against the hand that pinned him, Joe freed his arms and swung an elbow back.  It slammed into Jenkins’ throat.  The schoolmaster fell back, choking. 

Joe scrambled upright and ran for the cave entrance.  Stumbling out into the cold, he tried to locate the horse, but the blackness of the night left him blind.  The strangled bellow of his name was the force that pushed him on.  Heart hammering, he fled.

His exhaustion soon took him from a run to a stagger.  Fearful his pursuer might be right behind, he stopped and half-turned to check.  This saved his life.  Instead of pitching over the side of the gully headfirst, his foot slipped.  The rest of his body followed, sliding into the void.

***

Chapter Sixteen

A gaping mouth of nothingness eager to swallow him whole surrounded him.  The wind whipped and snatched at his nightgown like a giant’s breath.  The frozen rock face became his friend.  Joe pressed against it even though the cold numbed his flesh.  Squeezing shut his eyes, he fought the horror and fear of the mess he was in.  He couldn’t let it take hold.  ‘Hang on, just hang on,’ he told himself.

***

Dismounting, Adam tied off his horse.  Too dark to see, he had no desire to risk the animal breaking a leg on the loose rock.  He’d spotted a dim light, which could be only one thing — a campfire. 

The flickering light came from the entrance to a cave.  Adam’s fists clenched.  He was about to come face to face with the bastard who tortured and kidnapped his little brother.  His hands flexed in anticipation.  Slipping forward, he inched closer to the cave entrance when a sound tore through the air.  A scream, primal, terrified, and young!  Dear God, Little Joe!

Jenkin’s forgotten, Adam tore through the dark toward the sound.  Heedless of the danger until his rational mind retook control and forced him to stop.  To be quiet. To listen. 

“Little Joe?”

“Down here, Adam!” 

Adam scanned the ground ahead and made out the deeper shadows of the gully.  Lying on his belly, he snaked to the edge and peered over.  Moonlight glinted off the rocks, and the white skin of the shape that clung to them like a lizard.  Stretching out, he managed to lay his hand over Joe’s frozen one. 

“Reach up to me, and I’ll pull you out.”

“Can’t!  Hands are tied.  If I let go, I’ll fall.”

Adam cursed.  The kid was terrified and freezing.  How long could he hold on?  He had to get help but was afraid the signal shots would bring Jenkins down on them first.

“Pa and Hoss are nearby.  I’m gonna go get them.”

“No!  Don’t leave me.”

Adam sucked in a breath.  He’d felt Joe’s hand move at his suggestion. Terrified his brother would lose his grip, his hand tightened.  “All right.  I’m going to fire the signal shots.”

Reholstering his gun, he leaned out and laid both hands over Joe’s.  Adam contemplated trying to pull him up but decided he couldn’t take the risk.  It would be a last resort.  A movement had him glance back in time to see Jenkin’s launch out of the dark toward him. 

Joe’s world had narrowed to that freezing rockface and those two strong hands covering his, anchoring him to the promise of safety.  Then, they were gone!

He inched his head up and saw only vacant space.  A sob broke when he realized what he was hearing.  Adam was fighting Mr. Jenkins!

His mind raced in time to the battle raging overhead.  Adam would beat Jenkins.  He could beat anyone, couldn’t he?  The thuds and grunts made his heart pound.  If his brother lost, he’d be at Jenkin’s mercy.  If that happened, there would be no escape and no end to his ordeal.  Except.  There was one way. All he had to do was let go.

“JOE!”

***

Chapter Seventeen

The ride back was grim, thanks to Jenkins.  Ben felt Joe quake as another shriek ripped from their prisoner, begging to be allowed to purge Joe of his sins.  This was the last straw for the angry father.

“Gag him!” he instructed.

Sheriff Coffee was waiting, and he was more than glad to hand the schoolmaster over before putting Little Joe in Paul’s experienced hands.  It was fortunate the sheriff had already ridden off with his prisoner by the time they got inside the house.  If he’d seen Joe’s face before he’d gone, he might’ve killed the man.

Fallen into an uneasy sleep on the ride home, Joe woke like an animal caught in a trap when Ben went to change his nightshirt.

“It’s all right, son.  It’s me.”

Joe reached for his hand, panic edging his voice, “I didn’t let him touch me, Pa.”

Paul’s eyes met his.  Both men understood the significance of these words.  Ben’s mouth dried, but he asked, “What d’you mean?  Did he do something?”

“He tried.  But I fought him off and ran.”

Ben’s jaw tightened.  He pulled Joe to him and held him tight.

***

“How is he?” Ben asked once Paul finished his examination.

“Being dragged out into the freezing weather didn’t help.  I think he’s developing a fever.  Keep him warm and give him plenty of fluids.”

“Pneumonia?”

“We’ll have to hope for the best.”

Paul’s prediction was correct.  The morning found Joe feverish and dropping in and out of sleep. Bathing Joe’s neck, Hoss discovered the now visible imprints of Jenkin’s fingers on Joe’s throat.  “Look at this!”

Ben stared at the virulent bruises.  “Dear God, he strangled him.  That bastard strangled him.”

The two men reached for each other.  Hands resting on shoulders, gaining silent support from the physical contact.

***

The three Cartwrights sat in the great room before the roaring fire.  Each held a glass of brandy.  It might be morning, but Ben felt they all needed it. 

“That son of a bitch.  Treating a kid like that.” Adam said.

“We can at least be grateful it didn’t go any further than it did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that swine tried to commit sodomy.  Joe had to fight him off.”

“Then that’s why…” 

“What?” Ben asked when Adam petered off.

“When I found Little Joe, I was able to reach him.  I’d had my hands on his when Jenkins jumped me.  I had to leave him, and by the time I got back, for a moment … it felt like he was letting go.” 

Ben sucked in a breath.  “To think of doing that.  He must’ve been so scared.”

“The cold must’ve affected his thinking.  He’d never think of such a thing otherwise,” Adam replied.

Hoss laid down his glass and stood.  One hand on the newel, the other curled into a fist, he stared up the stairs.  There was no doubt in Ben’s mind. He was thinking about that young man, all he’d gone through, and the despicable creature who’d inflicted such suffering upon him.  Getting up, he went to Hoss and squeezed his shoulder.  Turning away, he spotted the brown parcel on his desk.

“What’s that?”

Adam replied, “Sheriff Coffee left it the night he arrested Jenkins.  Not sure what it is.  Said something about finding a pile of them at the schoolhouse and thought you’d want to see.”

As he returned to the fire, Ben opened the envelope and gazed at the familiar lopsided writing.  “I will not sin,” he read, his voice flat.

Running his fingers down the paper, they lingered over the rusty spots that scattered the pages.

“Is that?”

Ben nodded.  “Your brother’s blood.”  With a swift motion, he tore the pages in two, then again and again until there was nothing left but shreds, which he tossed into the fire.  His chest heaved.  “If I ever get my hands on that man, God forgive me, but I’ll kill him.”

***

Chapter Eighteen

Joe’s fever broke during the early hours of the following day.  When he awoke, it was to find his father and middle brother watching him.

“How’re you feeling son?”

“Fine,” Joe croaked.

Hoss was there with a glass of water.  Joe quenched his thirst and smiled his thanks at his big brother.

“Did I hear correctly?  Is the invalid awake?”  All eyes turned to the door where Adam, arms crossed, leaned on the doorframe.  “How’re you doing, fella?”

Little Joe managed a grin and rasped, “I’m fine, Adam.”

Adam cocked an eyebrow at his father.  “Hear that?  He’s fine.”

Pa chuckled and rearranged his blankets, although Joe didn’t think they needed it.  “Well, he will be, with care and rest.” 

Snuggling down, Joe still had one question, “How did you find me?”

The mattress sank under Hoss’s weight.  His brother grinned at him.  “Your buttons.  That was smart thinking.  They gave us the general direction you were goin’ in.  All we had to do was split up.”

“All right.  You two get your breakfast and check on Hop Sing.  I’ve no doubt he’s trying to make it, even with a broken arm.  Send up a tray for Little Joe and me.  I think I’ll have breakfast up here.”

Joe didn’t even duck when Hoss ruffled his hair before leaving. 

Pa sat down next to him.  “Son, when you were on that ravine, what happened?”

“Happened?”

“Yes.  Why did you almost let go?”

“I … I was scared.  I heard the fight, and I thought Jenkins would win.  I wouldn’t have let him touch me, Pa.  Promise.”

“You listen to me.  It wouldn’t have mattered what that man did so long as you were alive.  Whatever might’ve happened, we would’ve dealt with it.  But we couldn’t have done that if you’d been dead.  Do you understand?”  His father paused, and his gaze searched his.  Joe could see the honesty in them.  “Your being alive is all that matters.  Promise me, Little Joe, that you will always fight.  Fight to stay alive, to come back to us.  Because we need you.  I need you.  Very much.”

Awe, settled on Joe.  He’d never felt more wanted or loved.  “I promise.”

“Good.”

Concern pricked him, and a frown descended on Joe’s face.  “Pa, did you say Hop Sing’s broken his arm?”

To his surprise, Pa laughed.

***

Adam walked soft-footed into Joe’s room.  It had been three days since they’d brought him home.  He’d spent them mostly asleep.  His exhausted body giving into nature’s way of repairing itself.  Paul assured them he was out of danger, although his cough would probably linger for a couple more weeks.

Adam had been doing a lot of thinking.  Not one to avoid unpleasant truths, he recognized that his behavior toward his brother had been unfair and driven by his desires, not Little Joe’s.  Yes, Joe had reacted to his interference in an infuriating and childish way, but Joe was a child.  That was not true for him, yet he’d behaved like one.  He owed Joe an apology.

Looking down at the bruises on Joe’s face and throat, Adam’s jaw tightened.  The depth of anger he felt toward the man who did this alarmed him.  He always considered himself rational, but he sided with Pa when it came to Jenkins.

Little Joe was fast asleep.  His talk would have to wait.  Turning away, he stopped when he heard Joe stir.

“Sorry.  Did I wake you?”

“Nah.  I was wakin’ up, anyways.”

Adam helped rearrange the pillows for Joe to sit up before drawing up a chair.

“I want to talk to you.  To explain something.  I didn’t get to go to school like you and Hoss because Pa and I were traveling.  Pa had to be my teacher, and sometimes others we’d meet on the trail.  For a while, it was Ma, I mean Inger, but most of the time, it was just Pa.  I had to get my education where I could.  Reading everything I got my hands on.  There was no school when we first settled on the Ponderosa, and we were busy building up the ranch and looking after Hoss.  Even so, I studied every chance I got and worked hard.  Do you know why?”

His younger brother shook his head. 

“Education.  It’s important to me.  It dispels ignorance and helps us to understand people and the world we live in.  It’s a fascinating world, and education is the key to opening doors.  When Pa married Marie, she understood how I felt.  She helped me study and made him give me time to do it.”  Adam grinned, remembering how Maria had scolded their father, insisting he mustn’t neglect his schooling anymore.  “It was my dream to get that education and go to college.  I had to work for it.  Fight for it.  That’s why it was so important to me that you didn’t miss your chance at college.

Joe pushed himself upright.  “Why didn’t you just tell me that?  I would’ve understood.”

“Guess I should’ve.  I’m sorry that I didn’t and for being so hard on you.”

His brother’s eyes widened.  Was he so surprised to get an apology?  Then Joe grinned.  “Ain’t that a big brother’s job?”

Adam smiled.  When did this kid get to be so wise?  He gave Joe’s chin a mock punch.  “That’s right.”

His brother leaned back on his pillows and bit his lip.  “All right.  I’ll finish school, but college ain’t for me.”

“Fair enough.  I’ll tell Pa.”

“I can do that.  You can let him know you don’t mind.”

Adam put out his hand, and Joe took it.  “Deal.”

***

Chapter Nineteen

Ben stared at the sheriff and demanded, “Salt Lake City?  You’ve sent him to Salt Lake City?”

“It’s the only place with a Probate Court able to handle a criminal case like this.”

“Why couldn’t you send him to Sacramento?”

Roy drew a breath.  “Cause we ain’t under their jurisdiction.  You know that.”

Ben leaned back in his chair.  Despite his protest, he understood.  One of the problems with settling new territory was the time it took for structure, such as the law and courts, to catch up with the settlers.

“I sent Jenkins off with three good men the day after we brought him in.  As it is, they won’t get to Salt Lake ‘till after Christmas.  Once the trial date’s been set, they’ll return and let us know.  When it’s time, we can all go.”

“Will all the children be giving evidence?” Adam asked.

“I’m getting statements from them on what went on in the schoolhouse, so they won’t be needed.  But Little Joe will have to testify on the kidnapping.”

“All right, that’s fine, but nobody’s to breathe a word of this to Little Joe.  I’ll not have Christmas spoilt with this hanging over his head.”  Receiving agreement from his two sons, Ben relaxed.  “Roy, you’ll stay for dinner?”

Aware that Hop Sing was out of commission due to his injury, Roy politely declined.

***

With only a few days left until Christmas, preparations picked up apace.  They made the trip to select and bring home the Christmas tree.  Ben wouldn’t deprive Little Joe of this annual custom with his brothers, but he almost drove his sons to distraction, checking that Joe was warm enough.

Joe was getting back his strength, but it was slow.  Watching him help decorate the tree, Ben saw how easily he tired.  Ben hoped to speed his recovery by insisting he nap during the day.

Two days before Christmas, Roy rode out to the Ponderosa again.  Ben welcomed the sheriff and sat him in front of the fire with a warming cup of coffee.  Adam laid aside his book, and Hoss, putting down the rifle he was cleaning, sauntered over to join the sheriff on the sofa.  Joe was upstairs, taking one of his enforced naps.

“I got some news.  The three men I sent out with Jenkins rode back in late yesterday.  Jenkins tried to escape.  Clubbed one of the men an’ got his gun.  Took potshots at the other two.”

“Are they all right?”

“Yeah. He grazed one, but he’ll be fine.”

Adam sat forward.  “You said Jenkins tried to escape.”

“That’s right.  After he scattered the deputies, he took off.  Sent his horse up the side of a ravine where a horse ain’t got no business goin’.  Wilson yelled at him to turn back.”  Roy shook his head.  “Wilson’s a tough man, but he told me he ain’t never gonna forget the scream when the horse stumbled and Jenkins fell.”

Silence reigned as the impact of the sheriff’s words sank in.

“He’s dead?” Hoss asked.

“Yep.  Man and horse broke their necks.  That’s what I come to tell you.  Won’t be no trial now—”

The strangled sound that came from the stairs brought all their heads turning to look.  Ben sucked in a breath seeing Little Joe on the stairs clutching the banister.  The color drained from Joe’s face.  Ben, Adam, and Hoss moved even before his legs started to fold.

Ignoring his son’s protests, Ben helped him to the sofa and instructed Joe to drink some brandy.  Joe took a gulp, coughed, and grimaced, but his color began to return.

Joe turned to the sheriff.  “He’s really dead, Sir?”

“Yes, son.  I ain’t happy about it.  I prefer my prisoners to be handed over alive.  But it’s his fault he ain’t.  So, like I said, there’s ain’t gonna be no trial.”

Ben sat beside Joe, rubbing wide circles on his back.  “You okay, son?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s all over now.  You can forget about that man.”

The haunted look in Joe’s eyes perturbed Ben.

It was a quiet lunch, and afterward, the sheriff returned to Eagle Station.  Ben fretted, seeing how Joe’s subdued mood remained.  By evening, he realized Joe was far from putting what happened behind him.  Christmas was a special time of year for them.  He was damned if he’d let that wretched man take the joy of it away from his son.  Resolving to have a long talk with him tomorrow, Ben turned down his lamp.  The soft knock at his door had him reaching to turn it back up.

“Come in, son.”  Climbing out of bed, Ben pulled off his coverlet and wrapped it around his youngest before slipping on his dressing gown.  “What’s wrong?”

“Mr. Jenkins told me that … that I had evil in me.”

Ben tamped down his anger.  Jenkins was gone, and those emotions did no good.  All that mattered now was helping Joe.  He sought for the right words.  “He was a sick man.  Nothing he said was true.”

“But.  Isn’t it wrong to be glad someone’s dead?”  Light began to dawn in Ben’s mind.  “I was glad, Pa.  Glad when Sheriff Coffee told us he was dead.  Don’t that make me evil?”

His poor boy.  After everything, he could still think poorly of himself for being glad a monster had left the world.

“No, son, it doesn’t.  That man tortured, kidnapped, and beat you.  After what he did, anyone would be relieved he was dead.  I know I am.  I think the Lord, in his mercy, would understand.”

Joe’s lip quivered.  “Thanks, Pa.”

“There was only one evil man in all this, and it surely wasn’t you.”  Ben patted Joe’s knee.  “Let’s get you back to bed.”

He walked Joe back to his room and stayed as long as he dared while his son settled down.  When he stepped into the hall, he found Adam and Hoss waiting.

“What’s going on?  He okay?” Hoss asked. 

He waved them both into his room and recounted what had just happened.

“To think of him worriting over that man dying.  Little Joe ain’t got an evil bone in his body.”

Adam crossed his arms.  “Grief, Pa, Little Joe’s just a kid.  Jenkins was a grown man.  When I think of what he did.  What he tried to do.  He got off lightly dying like that.  He should’ve gone to prison for a lot of years.” 

Hoss nodded in agreement.  “He shouldn’t feel bad for being glad he’s gone.”

“He knows that now, I think.”

Ben caught the look Adam flicked at Hoss.  “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure he knows it from us too.”

“Thanks, now go get some sleep.”

Ben wasn’t sure when Adam and Hoss spoke to Little Joe the next day, but the change in Joe told him it had worked.

Christmas was all Ben could have hoped.  Joyful, merry, and unmarred by Jenkins’ shadow.  They all gave special thanks that year.

***

Chapter Twenty

The whole family found a reason to ride into Eagle Station on the morning school started.  Although not fooled, Joe didn’t complain.

Watching him on his pony bouncing off to meet his friends, Hoss grinned at his father.  “Did you hear about the cookies he helped Hop Sing bake as a welcome back gift for Miss Jones?”

Adam leaned across and tapped his arm.  “Hoss, take a look.”

Every child entering the schoolhouse was carrying some token for the Schoolmarm.  Ben smiled when he spotted Katie Brown and Tom Wilkins.

“I think Miss Jones will have the most well-behaved class in the territory this morning.”

Adam and Hoss laughed.  “She’d better make the most of it.   Don’t reckon little brother will let that last too long.”

Ben pushed his hands down onto his saddle horn and stretched.  “Well, I don’t know about that.  I think Miss Jones may have a willing pupil there.”  He grinned back at the intrigued looks.  “Your brother and I had a long chat.  If he works hard and passes his exam, I’ve agreed he can start as the newest full-time hand on the Ponderosa in the spring.”

“Hot diggity.  That’s great!”

“You okay with that, son?”

Adam’s lips quirked into a small smile.  “Little Joe knows what he wants.  His dreams aren’t mine.  He’ll make top hand in no time.”

Hoss guffawed.  “Just wait.  He’ll be asking for higher wages afore you know it.”

Ben gulped at the prospect.  “We’ll just see about that.”

Laughing, the three men turned their horses from the bustling schoolhouse, content to ride away.

*** The End ***

May 2019

This story is one of my earliest.  If you enjoyed it, please consider scrolling down and leaving a comment.

Author’s notes

In 1851, Eagle Station was established as a trading post and stopover for emigrants traveling to California, and a few settlers soon arrived in the valley.  In 1858, Abraham Curry and a group of business partners arrived in Eagle Valley, purchased most of the land, including the station, and laid out the township of Carson City.  Therefore, I’ve taken a little poetic license in having more of a settlement at Eagle Station than was likely there two years before Curry and his friends’ arrival.