Private Affairs

by jfclover

New towns and settlements sprang up all over western Utah.  The gold rush in California began over ten years ago and when large pockets of silver were discovered just east of the Ponderosa, miners swarmed the area and our little hamlet exploded into a real proper city and was given a real proper name—Virginia City.  That was a year ago, and our little town’s been growing steadily ever since.  To mark that first year, the newly elected mayor declared Saturday—today—the first annual Founder’s Day.

Even though Pa gave us the day off, my brothers and I were up earlier than usual since the mornin’ chores had to be completed before we rode into town.  The mayor promised somethin’ for everyone.  There was a horse race and a fishin’ derby, booths with games and booths with food, and later that evening, “Jake and His Fiddlers Three” would host a dance at Jeb Dinger’s barn to end the day’s festivities.

My brothers had signed up for the horse race, and I’d been elected to judge the pie bakin’ contest.  The mayor, whose wife had entered her blue ribbon sour cream cherry pie after winning the Virginia City Ladies Guild contest just a month ago, was judge number two.  It didn’t seem fair that the mayor could be objective, but it weren’t fair that Margie Callahan and Alice Turner had been makin’ sheep’s eyes at me all week long either.

I was glad to have other duties and not have to listen to my hotheaded brothers trying to rattle each other before the race got underway.  That’s all I’d heard about for the last two weeks, and I was sick and tired of their bickerin’ back and forth, and so was Pa.  We’d heard nothin’ else.  While one horse had spirit and long-reachin’ legs, the other, besides being a showstopper, had more guts than any other horse in Nevada and would never lose to a long-legged nag ridden by a bossy ol’ Yankee granite head.

Luckily, the day was finally here, the day that would put an end to all the squabbling Pa and I’d put up with.  It weren’t all about the race though.  There’d been misery between Joe and Adam that came weeks before any mention of Founder’s Day.  The race was just icing on the cake.

It was a good day for racin’ though.  The sun was shinin’, not a cloud in the sky, and this was Virginia City’s first real celebration.  Miners and cowboys alike lined both sides of the streets.  Some were already drunk and being hauled to jail, while others had just started carousing.  I wondered if Roy Coffee could handle them all.  It weren’t even noon yet.

Both brothers had the same basic ideas about gettin’ their horses to town until Pa forced them to ride together in the buckboard.  They’d each planned to take a separate conveyance and tie their mounts behind so each entry would be fresh for the race.  I doubt two words were spoken between ‘em.  This weren’t their first feud, and it wouldn’t be their last.  Most times, I knew my brothers better’n they knew themselves.

The first race was scheduled for noon, but it was a children’s race.  No one over twelve years old could enter.  Them kids was so cute, waitin’ on the startin’ line with their little ponies.  Most of the girls had decorated their mounts with pink bows and sashes woven through their pony’s tails.  Of course, their dresses and the bows in their hair matched perfectly with their spruced-up ponies.

The mayor didn’t shoot a gun.  Afraid he’d scare the kids half to death, he stood on a podium, waved a flag, and the race began.  It was only a half-mile run and the crowd was cheerin’ them little tykes on to victory.  Pa and me did like everyone else.  We had our favorites.  I’d picked number seven and Pa picked number three, but number four came in the winner.

“Maybe next time,” Pa chuckled.

“We could make a little wager on the next race,” I said hesitantly.

“That we could, but don’t you think we’d be sticking our necks out and asking for trouble?”

“After listenin’ to them brothers of mine for the last two weeks, I’d bet a week’s pay on anyone ‘sides them two.”

Pa tried to hide his smile, but the conversation was over.  He wasn’t a bettin’ man to begin with, and he wasn’t about to start now, not with them two in the race.

As the adult riders walked their mounts up to the startin’ line, we noticed Joe and Adam was side by side, a bad omen right from the get-go.  Sport’s head was bobbin’ with anticipation, and Cochise was as laid back as his rider.  Adam sat tall in the saddle and Joe was leanin’ forward, pattin’ his horse’s neck.  Them two would never be took for relations.  If you didn’t know ‘em personally, you’d never suspect they was brothers.  I knew ‘em all too well.  I also figgered one of them would win and one would come home the loser and their squabblin’ would start all over again.

The mayor started this race too, only with a gunshot instead of a red and white striped flag.  He held the gun over his head.  He fired the shot.  Twelve riders sprinted from the starting line and battled for position before they made it to the edge of town.  Twelve anxious men, hopin’ to win the blue ribbon and have braggin’ rights for the following year, tore down “C” Street, kickin’ a cloud of dust toward everyone watchin’.  Each of my brothers planned to win and each one had started at a good pace.  They’d both taken an early lead in the race.

The riders would round the old cottonwood on the south side of Virginia City—about a two-mile race—and come back down “C” Street to the finish line.  It wouldn’t take long, less than five minutes, but enough time for the crowd of bystanders to rush inside a saloon, buy another drink, and move back out to the boardwalk so they could cheer their favorite rider to victory.

“What do you think, Pa?”

Pa gave me a sideways glance.  He wouldn’t commit.  A smart move on his part and I wasn’t pullin’ for one brother over the other either.  We’d never hear the end of it if one of them brought home the blue ribbon.

People was leanin’ forward over the edge of the boardwalks.  The riders were slow gettin’ back from the two-mile loop.  The race should’ve been won and a winner declared, but not a single rider had made it back to town.

“Somethin’s wrong, Pa.  You don’t think it’s Adam or Little Joe do you?”

“No, of course, not.”

“Look!”  I shouted.

I pointed to a lone rider; I couldn’t see his face from where we stood.  A narrow cloud of dust trailed behind his bay as he pulled up in front of Doc Martin’s and ran up the front steps to Doc’s office.  Pa and I took off running too and stopped just as Paul came outside carrying his medical bag.

“You two better come with me,” Paul said.  “Your boys are hurt.”

“I’ll get the horses.”  I started past Pa and the doc.

“I’ll drive my buggy,” Doc continued.  “There’s room for both boys in the back.”

On most days, Paul kept his buggy stored at the livery, but today it was hitched and parked in the side alley.  He was set to go in case of an emergency and with drunken men, and so many games and other activities on this special day, the doc was on-call all day and into the night.  I’d stabled Buck and Chubb when we first rode into town.  I had both horses saddled by the time Pa was ready to ride.

“Let’s go,” he said, and we followed Doc and Jim Steiner, the lone rider, to Adam and Little Joe.  We didn’t need a guide, but Jim rode back to the scene with us anyway.

“Jimmy say anything after I left,” I asked Pa as we rode.

“Only that both boys were down and needed Paul.”

As we rode up to the crowd of riders, I couldn’t see hide or hair of Joe or Adam until we were able to dismount and make our way through men standing shoulder to shoulder like a barricade around my brothers.  I caught sight of Adam first.  His red shirt was torn at the shoulder and he was out cold.  Adam’s friend, Todd McCarren, had knelt down beside him.

“Let me in there, son,” Paul said, easing Todd aside.

Pa and I moved in closer.  I moved toward Little Joe, who stood off to the side.  “You okay?”

Joe nodded his head.

“You sure?  Jimmy said you was hurt.”

“Joseph,” Pa cut in.  “What happened, son?  Sure you’re all right?”

Again, Joe nodded his head.

After Joe had dismissed his health issues, Pa and I turned our attention to Adam.  We must have misunderstood Jim Steiner about two men being down when Adam seemed to be the only rider injured.  Pa knelt down across from Doc; Adam lay between them.  My brothers were the two best horsemen I’d ever known, and I had a hard time imaginin’ what went wrong.  Why was Adam out cold and why was Joe so quiet?  Had it been Joe’s fault?  Doc looked up at me, and I knew before he even spoke what my next job would be.

“Hoss?”

“I got him, Doc.”

“Watch that right shoulder,” he said.

“I will.”

I lifted my brother off the ground, and my father steadied Adam’s head as I carried him to the buggy.  Pa climbed inside and when I set my brother on the seat, Pa pulled him close so Adam’s head rested on his shoulder.  I turned back to Joe.

“You comin’?”

The blank stare remained.

“Sure you ain’t hurt none?  Jimmy said you both went down.”  I grabbed Sport’s reins.  “I’ll take him with me,” I said.

The other riders had gone their separate ways soon after Pa and I arrived at the scene, and I didn’t have the time or the patience to stand around and worry over my little brother’s peculiar mood.  Doc had already turned his buggy toward town, and I followed.  Joe’d be along.  There were times a man needed to be by hisself to collect his thoughts.  I glanced back over my shoulder for one last look at my little brother, and he had just mounted Cochise.  I didn’t always understand what went through that kid’s head, and this was one of them times.

Adam woke on the way back to town and was able to walk into Doc’s on his own accord.  Buck was tied to the back of Paul’s buggy in the side alley so I tied Chubby and Sport there too.  The blue ribbon winner would have to wait another year.  The streets were filled with booths now, and a flood of men, women, and children milled around, each finding their own special brand of entertainment.  Reckon I wouldn’t be tastin’ no pies this year either. Seemed all three of us was on the losin’ end of the stick this time ‘round.

After his exam, Paul addressed Pa rather than Adam about my brother’s injuries.  Doc and Pa was good friends, but I also knew it didn’t sit well with Adam when he was left out of the conversation.  My brother was more’n thirty years old and Doc was treatin’ him like a little kid.

“Keep him in bed for a couple of days, Ben.  He was out for a while and it’s safe to say, he probably has a slight concussion and he needs to rest.  I’ve cleaned and bandaged the cut on his shoulder, and it will heal in no time.”

“Thanks, Paul.  I’m glad it wasn’t anything worse.”

“It could have been.”  Paul looked passed me and Pa toward his waitin’ area.  “Where’s Little Joe?  Didn’t he go down too?”

Pa looked at me.  “Hoss?”

“Should’ve been here by now.”  I sighed overloud.  Why was it always me who had to search for the kid?  “I’ll find him.”

But I didn’t find him.  Joe was nowhere in sight.  There were too dang many people in town, and I didn’t know where to start lookin’, ‘specially if Joe didn’t want to be found.  He knew we were at Doc’s, and I had no choice but to walk back inside and face Pa empty-handed.

“Hey, Pa,” I mumbled.

“Well?”

I was just about positive the accident had something to do with Joe and, knowin’ him like I did, I figgered he’d crept off by hisself ‘cause he was too afraid to face Adam, but that’s not what I told my pa.

“I didn’t find him outright, but he’ll be along.”

“Don’t come home without him, Hoss.”

“Yessir.”

***

I stayed in town; I looked everywhere for my little brother, but there was no Joe, there was no Cochise, and I finally had to give up and ride home without my brother or his horse. With Adam tucked safely in bed and the supper dishes cleared from the table, Pa was more’n mad.  He was pacing the room, and that was never a good sign.  Heavy sighs would come next then the shoutin’, and I quickly figgered out an escape plan.

“I best bed down the stock,” I said.

“So help me, Hoss, I’m going to take that boy over my knee if he doesn’t walk through that door …”

Oh Lordy.  I didn’t escape in time, but I didn’t want to listen to Pa rant about Joe’s shortcomin’s and I walked outside anyway.  He wasn’t the only one who was ready to kill Little Joe.  Dang fool kid was probably sittin’ in a saloon nursin’ a cold beer while I did all his chores.  Dang fool kid.

I stayed in the barn longer than I should have, hopin’ Joe would ride in before bedtime.  I was givin’ Pa time to cool down, but I knew better.  If Joe didn’t show up soon all heck would break out and I’d be Pa’s soundin’ board.  I couldn’t stall any longer and I kicked a few stones in my path as walked back to the house.  Pa rose from his chair when I opened the front door.  I shook my head and moved toward the fireplace.  There weren’t nothin’ to say that would make him happy tonight.

“Guess I’ll turn in. I’ll start out lookin’ early tomorrow mornin’.”

“You have no idea where he would have gone?”

“No, sir, and it’s my fault, Pa.  I just assumed he’d follow me back to town.”

Pa shook his head.  The anger was gone and the only thing left now was worry.  “Don’t go blaming yourself, son.  It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe he got hisself thrown in the sheriff’s jail.  Leastwise he’d be safe for the night.”

Pa half-smiled.  “Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

“No, sir.”  I clapped Pa’s shoulder.  I was relieved to hear a lighter tone to his voice.  “You know Little Joe.  He’ll be fine.”

***

After a lousy night’s sleep, I rolled out of bed.  I shaved, dressed, opened Joe’s bedroom door, and found the bed hadn’t been slept in.  I headed downstairs to do the morning chores.  Pa was already sittin’ at the dining room table drinkin’ his mornin’ coffee.

“Mornin’.”

“Morning, son.”

“I checked his room.”

Pa nodded.  I guess he’d checked too; in fact, I wondered if he’d even been to bed.  “You get any sleep?”

“Some. You?”

“Enough. I’ll check the stock.”

“Hop Sing’s making breakfast.  Don’t be too long.”

I’d just started out the front door when a rider-less Cochise came walking around the far edge of the barn.  When I saw the horse’s reins dragging the ground I hollered for Pa and the two of us checked the saddle and the horse’s coat for anything unusual—like blood. The saddle was clean and so was the horse, no clues to be found.  Pa reached for Joe’s saddlebags.

“What’d ya think’s in there?”

“I don’t know, Hoss.”

My brain came alive.  Was Pa lookin’ for a ransom note?  Although I’d never known no one personally who’d been kidnapped, I supposed it was possible, and I held my breath while Pa searched both bags. My eyebrows shot up when he pulled out a note of some kind.

Pa chuckled and rolled his eyes.  “A love letter.”

I smiled too when I smelled the sweet scent of perfume.  Some little gal had a hankerin’ for my little brother and took time to write him a letter.  Joe had just turned eighteen and already the girls was after him.  No wonder the kid had a big head.

“Who’s it from?”

“Someone named Bess. Don’t think I know that name.”

“New girl in town,” I said.  “Her brother owns that new mercantile.  Corbin’s Mercantile.”

“Oh, right.  I think I met the young lady.  Brown hair?  Petite?  Pretty?”

“That’s the one.”

“She seems like a nice young lady.”

“She probably is, Pa.”

Pa held the letter in one hand and kept digging.  “Nothing else here but a bag of hundred-year-old jerky.”

Love letter and jerky.  Yep.  That was Joe.  “What do we do now, Pa?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, why don’t I start lookin’ between here and town?  Cochise weren’t run hard.  Maybe Joe drank too much and he was headin’ home and—“

Soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d said too much ‘cause Pa glared at me like I was the bad son, not Joe.

“You do that.  Paul said he’d stop by this morning or I’d ride with you.  Hop Sing can stay here with Adam, but I want to talk to Paul before I leave the house.”

“That’s fine, Pa.  I’ll put Cooch away and saddle Chubby.  Don’t you worry none.  I’ll bring the boy home.”

***

Pa was still standin’ in the yard when I rode out.  I don’t think he knew what to do with hisself, but I had a mission to accomplish, and I was determined this stupid mess would end today.  Joe was out there somewhere and dang if I wasn’t comin’ home without him this time.

I didn’t have to ride far.  About a mile from the house, there was a “Y” in the road.  One road led to Virginia City, the other veered south to Carson, and that’s where I saw Joe walkin’—limpin’ actually—but he was walkin’ the wrong direction.  He was headin’ south, which made no sense at all, and when he saw me coming; he ducked into a stand of trees by the side of the road.

“Joe?”  I called.  “Little Joe!”

When he turned his head, he shielded his eyes from the sun and looked up at me.  His hat was missin’ and even with his hand shadowin’ half his face, I was close enough to tell his eyes looked funny, like he weren’t seein’ me at all.  I slid off Chubb and started toward my little brother, but he took a step back.  His reaction was odd and I didn’t move no closer.  I called his name softer this time.

“Joe?  It’s me, Hoss.”

His hand dropped away from his eyes, and he squinted into the bright morning sun.  It was the oddest thing.  Joe studied me from head to toe.  He was sizing me up—friend or foe.  I repeated his name again.

“Joseph?”

His face took on a pained look and he dropped to his knees.  He pressed his hands to both sides of his head and rocked hisself back and forth.  I knelt down in front of him and reached for his arms, and even though his lips was pressed tight together, he made a low moanin’ sound, and I let my arms fall to my sides.  I thought it best not to touch him, not yet.

“Little Joe?”

My brother didn’t know me; I was a stranger to him, and when I thought back to the accident yesterday, I realized he probably didn’t know me or Pa then either.  He’d never said a word; he’d only nodded his head.  I’d heard Jimmy right all along.  There had been two men down—Joe and Adam – only Joe was back to his feet and everyone figgered he was okay.  The only question that remained was where had he been all night long?  Had he slept?  Eaten?  Had he let Cochise lead the way and if so, why’d he let his horse get away? Why was he walking now?

I needed a different approach.  Figgerin’ he hadn’t eaten; I offered him a hot meal.  His hands fell from the sides of his head and he looked up at me.  He seemed interested in the food part, and I pointed back toward the house.

“I live right down the road,” I said.

He stood to his feet and acted like he was waitin’ for me to take the lead, and that’s exactly what I did.  I noticed he was favorin’ his right leg so I walked slow.  I didn’t mount Chubb; instead, I held his reins and we all walked back toward the house together.  I hoped when he saw the familiar surroundings his mind would figger out where he was and maybe even who he was since he didn’t answer to his name.

Though I’d been optimistic just a few short minutes ago when we entered the yard, there was no reaction at all.  I handed him Chubby’s reins and asked him to wait by the hitch post.

“You wait right here, okay?  I’ll only be a minute.”

He nodded.

I had to let Pa know not to rush outside, not to call Joe by name, and not to yell at him or let on that he was afraid or upset.  My gut said we’d better take things slow.  After closing the front door so Joe couldn’t overhear, I yelled for Pa.  No answer.  I called again, but there was dead silence until Hop Sing came running out from the kitchen.

“Why you yell?  Brother sleep!”

“Where’s Pa?”

“He ride to town with doctor.”

“Oh, we must’ve just missed ‘em,” I mumbled.  “Here’s the deal, Hop Sing.  I need you to play along …”

***

It was a good four hours before Pa returned.  I’d paced back and forth inside the house then moved out to the yard.  I did the same thing out there.  I couldn’t wrap my mind around anything but Joe’s odd behavior, the huge appetite, the blank stare, and the narrowed eyes as he scanned his surroundings and how fascinated he was when the grandfather clock chimed the hour.  At eighteen years old, he was acting like a little kid who was seeing things for the first time.  Everything was new to him—the house, the barn, Chubby, and Cochise.  He remembered nothing so I let him be.  I didn’t tell him nothin’ different.

“We got a spare room,” I said after he ate everything Hop Sing set on the table.  “I don’t mind none if you want to sleep some.”

“Okay,” he said.

That was the first word outta his mouth.  Either he trusted I wouldn’t hurt him or he was dead tired.  Maybe he’d walked all night.  Either way, I showed him to his room—his own bedroom.  Still, nothing registered, but that was okay.  Joe was home and we’d deal with the rest later.

Soon as I closed his bedroom door behind me, I opened Adam’s.  He was awake, and I wasn’t surprised to see him sittin’ up in bed readin’ one of his leather-bound novels.

“Put that book down, Adam.  We gotta talk.”

“Did you find him?”

“I found him all right.”

Relief showed in my brother’s eyes.  “Good.  I can sleep now.”

“Oh, no you can’t.”

“What?”

There was room to sit down on Adam’s bed without him moving hisself to the side, so I took a seat.  “It’s a long story, but hear me out, big brother.”

“Fine,” Adam sighed.  “What’s he done this time?”

I hated when Adam suspected the worst outta Joe.  It weren’t fair, but it happened all the time, and that’s why they was always scrappin’ with each other.  Adam didn’t think Joe had a brain in his head, and Joe was tired of Adam actin’ all high and mighty with his back-east education and big words.  The big words got to me too, but none of that mattered right now.  We had bigger problems.

“He ain’t done nothin’, Adam.  He don’t know who he is.”

“He—he doesn’t what?”

“You heard me.  Joe don’t know he’s Joe.”

“Joe don’t know he’s Joe?”  

“Stop it.  You sound just like Pa, and I’m bein’ serious here.”

Adam pushed hisself up taller against the headboard and clasped his hands together. “Then why don’t you explain?”

“I will, but make sure you’re listenin’.”

“You have my undivided attention.”

“Somethin’ must’ve happened durin’ that race, Adam.  Seems like you and Joe both went down and when me and Pa got there, you was out cold but Joe wasn’t.  He seemed fine so we didn’t worry none.  We was only worried about you.”

“Okay, that makes sense.  Then what?”

“Then Joe never came home, and I went searchin’ for him this mornin’.”

“I know all that.  Pa filled me in before he left for town.”

“Okay, so I found Joe wanderin’ out on the Carson road, but he didn’t know who I was.  He don’t know this house or his own horse, Adam.  He don’t remember nothin’ about nothin’.”

Adam scrunched his eyebrows together and his eyes narrowed into tiny slits.  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Darn right I’m serious.  I got him sleepin’ in his own bed right now, but he don’t even know that’s his room.  I tell you, brother, this is serious stuff.  That boy’s mind ain’t workin’ right at all.”

“Pa back yet?”

“No.”

“Maybe I should talk to Joe.”

“I don’t think so, Adam.”

“Why not?”

“I ain’t sure we should try and force him to remember.”

“So you’re a doctor now?”

“Cut that out?  ‘Course I ain’t no doctor, but I think we oughta let him be.  Let him sleep a while and maybe his memory will come back when he wakes up.”

“You know, I’ve heard about cases like this.  They call it amnesia.”

“Call it what?”

“Am-ne-sia, and if I remember right, it can be caused by a concussion, which could have happened when he fell.”

“Exactly what did happen out there, Adam?”

***

I’d worn myself ragged checkin’ on Joe and waitin’ outside for Pa.  I was in and out of the house so many times, I felt kinda dizzy, sort of sick to my stomach, but that was just a normal reaction, I s’pose, ‘cause of the peculiar chain of events.

I studied what Adam had told me about the race, and that it were his fault he and Joe went down.  Said he’d taken the lead after they’d circled the tree and that he’d turned to look over his shoulder and Sport had veered to the left, and he’d bumped Joe’s leg with his ‘cause Joe’d already caught up by then.  They was ridin’ side by side at a full gallop when it happened.  One of their mounts stumbled, and Adam wasn’t sure which horse went off balance first but the next thing he knew, he was ridin’ in the back of Doc’s buggy with Pa.

Adam remembered goin’ down, but he didn’t remember seeing Joe after their mounts collided so it didn’t give me much to go on.  If only Joe could remember, but both my brothers seemed to have blocked the whole thing from their memory.  Only Joe blocked more’n he needed.

When Pa finally rode into the yard, I’d been inside, checkin’ one more time on my brothers. They was both sound asleep when the front door opened, and I raced back down the stairs with my finger to my lips.

“They’re both sleepin’,” I said to Pa.

“Both?”

“Yeah.  Come sit down and I’ll explain everything.”

“You found Joseph?”

“I did, Pa, now come on and sit down.  It’s a long story.”

I explained what I knew so far.  Pa didn’t stop me or question me till the whole miserable story was told.  He ran through everything I’d said.  Guess he was tryin’ to get it square in his mind before he asked a bunch of silly questions.

“So—“ he said.  “If I have this right, Adam doesn’t remember anything after they fell, and Joseph doesn’t remember anything at all.”

“That’s exactly right, Pa.”

‘Course I’d given Pa my opinion about handlin’ Joe.  That maybe we should take it slow and let his memory come back on its own, but I ain’t sure Pa cared for my way of thinkin’.

“Where you goin’?”

“To see Joseph.”

“You gonna say anything?”

“Don’t forget, Hoss.  Joseph is my son.”

“I know that, Pa, I just—“

Pa clapped my shoulder.  “Don’t worry.  He’ll be fine.”

After Pa climbed the stairs and turned down the hallway, I decided to follow.  He’d left Joe’s door open, and I stood in the hall, just outside, but I was there if Joe—well, if he needed me.

Pa sat down on the edge of the bed.  My little brother lay sprawled face down and Pa stroked the back of Joe’s head real easy like and in just a few minute’s time, my brother began to stir.  He’d been out for a couple of hours and probably would’ve woke soon anyway without Pa’s gentle persuadin’, but Pa was too anxious to let any more time pass.  I hugged myself closer to the doorway so I could watch Joe’s reaction.  If there was any hope at all, it’d show in them mossy, green eyes after just one look at Pa.

“Joseph? Son, it’s Pa.”

Joe jerked sideways on the bed then pushed hisself so he’s sittin’ up facing our father.  Fear showed in his eyes.  There was no recognition at all.

“Little Joe?”

“Dadburn it,” I mumbled.  I’d let my frustration slip, and Joe and Pa looked my way.  And since I’d been eavesdropping, I smiled real sheepish-like and settled my hands in my pants pockets until Pa waved me into Joe’s room.

“Howdy, boy.  Remember ol’ Hoss?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled back.

“This here’s my Pa,” I said.  “Don’t be afraid.  If Pa don’t know someone, he calls ‘em Joe.  Kinda like, “Hey, Joe.  How’s it goin’?‘ or ‘What’s up, Joe?’  It’s just another way of sayin’ howdy.”

I quick-glanced at Pa, hopin’ he’d take my lead and play along so we wouldn’t frighten the kid any more’n he already was.  As skittish as a little jackrabbit caught in Hop Sing’s garden, Joe scooted toward the headboard, tucked his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around his shins.  Pa eyed me first before he spoke.

“What happened, young man?  How’d you end up here on the Ponderosa?”

Joe shook his head.  I didn’t know if he was tryin’ to answer or tryin’ to remember somethin’ about his past or if he was just plain scared to death of our father.  Even when Pa softened his voice, he could still be a mighty forceful presence to a stranger—like Joe.

“I don’t know.  This man brought me here,” Joe said, lookin’ up at me.  “He gave me somethin’ to eat and let me sleep a while, but I best be movin’ on.  I don’t want to cause you folks any more trouble.”

Pa was quick to reply.  No way was he lettin’ Joe outta his sight.  Joe might not know who or where he was, but Pa weren’t takin’ any chances.

“Do you have somewhere to go?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t mean to be a bother, sir.”

“It seems like you’re a healthy young man and, if you’re willing to put in a hard day’s work, we have plenty of jobs right here on the ranch.”

“You’re offering me a job?”

“That’s right.  Pay’s thirty a month, bunk and beans.”

Joe felt his pants pockets and they must have turned up empty ‘cause he agreed to take the job.

“Thanks.  I’ll start right now.  Seems I could use some travelin’ money after all.”

“Let’s not worry about traveling anywhere just yet.  You’re welcome to use this room while you’re here with us.”

“Oh, no, sir.  I don’t want to put you out.  I’ll stay with the other fellas.  There are other fellas, aren’t there?”

“Sure there are.  This is a big ranch, but why don’t you go ahead and use this room tonight, and we’ll make different arrangements tomorrow.  Sound okay?”

“Yes, sir.  Thank you.”

“What should we call you, boy?”  I asked.

Joe made a face.  His eyes squeezed shut and his hands went to the sides of his head just like when we was out on the Carson turn-off only this time, the pain didn’t seem to last quite as long.

“Hey, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean no—“

“It … it’s okay.  My head … sometimes it … I don’t know, it just …”

“You okay now?”  

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I caught Pa’s smile.  I nearly smiled myself but I kept a straight face after Joe declared he was fine.  That boy was always fine even when he was sicker’n a dog

“You call me Hoss, and why don’t we call you Joe—like, ‘Hey, Joe.’  Just till you remember your own name.  Okay?”

“All right.”

“And this is my pa, and you call him Mr. Cartwright.”

“Cart-wright.  Okay.”

“I’ll come get you when supper’s ready.”

“Thanks, Hoss.  Thanks, Mr. Cartwright.”

Pa and I went downstairs together, and Pa went straight for his container of brandy.  I couldn’t much blame him; this was an awful shock for him.  One of us would have to tell Adam that Joe was stayin’ on as a hired hand.  He wasn’t coming down for meals yet, but I thought he should be warned to treat Joe like a ranch hand, not a brother.  Not just yet.

“Want me to go tell Adam?”

“How did this happen, Hoss?  He doesn’t recognize anything or anyone.”

“I ain’t sure, but it had something to do with him and Adam collidin’ durin’ that race.  Joe seemed fine at the time but he weren’t.  He must’ve hit his head, just like Adam or—I just ain’t sure.”

“I’ll get Paul out here again tomorrow.”

“Joe was limpin’ some when I first saw him.  Why don’t you use that as an excuse rather than tell him the real reason you called for the doc?  We sure don’t want to scare him off.”

“That’s good, Hoss.  That’s what we’ll do.”

Pa was havin’ a real hard time with all this, and I weren’t sure the brandy would set him at ease, not with Joe’s current behavior, but I didn’t want to surmise nothin’ before we knew exactly how to treat his condition.  I weren’t sure how to treat Pa neither, but I was glad he played along and didn’t confuse the boy more’n necessary.

***

“Supper almost ready,” Hop Sing announced.  “I take tray to Mister Adam first.  Where Little Joe?”

“Hold off just a minute, Hop Sing, and I’ll get Joe,” I said.  “I’ll take the tray up.  I need to talk to Adam anyway.”

“Maybe I should talk to Adam,” Pa said.

“I got it, Pa.  You’ve had enough for one day.”

Pa chuckled.  “Right, boss.”

“Come on, Pa.  I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know you didn’t.  Go on and take Adam’s tray.  I’ll get Little Joe.”

Adam was sitting up in bed when I got to his room.  His door was ajar and I pushed it farther open with my elbow.

“Good.  You’re here.  I’m starving.”

“That’s what happens after you put in a full day’s work.”

“Haha.  Got any more jokes?”

“Not right off hand.”

“I’ve been smelling Hop Sing’s pork roast all afternoon and with nothing else to do …”

I set the tray on my brother’s lap.  He sipped the coffee first then picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of pork.  “Mmm.  Good.”

“Is this the new Adam, the starving Adam?”

“It is today.”

“Somethin’ I need to tell you.”

“Mind if I eat while you talk?”

“No, not at all.”  Adam steadied his tray when I sat down on the edge of his bed.  “It’s about Joe,” I said.  “For now, he’s stayin’ on as a ranch hand.”

“A ranch hand?”

“Yeah.  Pa offered him a job—you know, so he wouldn’t run off somewheres.  You know how Joe is.”

“Capricious?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.  So he still doesn’t remember anything?”

“Not a dadburn thing, not even Pa.”

“Hmm.  So we’re playing dumb?”

“That’s right.  Pa wants the doc to come out tomorrow.”

“Good.  Maybe he’ll let me out of this bed.”

I stood up and the tray wobbled some.  “Go ahead and eat, brother.  I know how starved you are.”

Joe and Pa sat at the dining room table when I got back downstairs.  Joe smiled as Hop Sing brought one platter after another from the kitchen and set them on the table.  I sat across from Joe, and we all filled our plates.

“You all sure eat good,” Joe said after Pa and I picked up our forks.

“I got a king-sized appetite, Little … Joe.”

“I guess so.”

“Eat up, Joe, before Hoss does justice to that platter of pork.”

“It’s awful kind of you to let me stay on, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Think nothing of it.  Right now, you’re our guest and we want you to feel comfortable.”

As soon as Joe dug into the food on his plate, Pa gave me a kind of a shrug with his eyebrows.  I nodded my head quickly so Joe wouldn’t catch on to our muted conversation.  It was a game Pa and I played for the rest of the night.  Just like any other evening on the Ponderosa, Joe and I played checkers, and Pa sat in his chair only this time, he just pretended to read the book he had perched on his lap.

***

After peekin’ in Adam’s bedroom and saying good morning, I hurried downstairs and ate a quick breakfast before I rode into town for the doc.  Joe wasn’t up when I left but I had a feelin’ he’d be anxious to earn his keep.  He weren’t no slacker.  He’d always done his share, even though Adam felt it necessary to nudge him on from time to time.

Just days before that danged horse race, my brothers was quarrelin’ over everything.  In fact, their tempers had escalated to new heights and the whole house was in an uproar.  According to Adam, Joe spent too much time curryin’ Cochise, and it wouldn’t be long before he’d be ridin’ the first hairless horse in the state of Nevada.  ‘Course, remarks like that never sat well with Joe and he wasn’t about to let Adam’s comment pass.

“You ain’t my boss, Adam, so mind your own business.  I’ll take as long as I like.  Besides, that nag of yours ain’t worth his weight in salt or anything else.”

“Oh, grow up,” Adam shot back.

“You grow up and quit raggin’ me all the time.”

When Adam’s eyes grew narrow, Joe ran his mouth again.

“And another thing.”

“Give it a rest, Joe.”

“You give it a rest, Adam, or is that even possible for a Yankee granite head like you?”

That did it.  That remark turned the tide and from the back of the barn, I started toward my brothers but I was too late.  Fists was already flyin’ and both brothers was rollin’ on the ground by the barn doors.  I stayed out of it.  Maybe a little tussle would cool ‘em both off.  But things only went from bad to worse.

The next few days was close to unbearable when them two was anywhere around.  Hard looks passed between my brothers whenever they was in the same room, but Pa made a necessary decision.  He separated them.  He sent one to town for supplies and one out on the range.  The next day was the same but the snide remarks and constant bickerin’ was still part of everyone’s life, and Pa finally took ‘em both to task.

“Listen up and listen good,” he’d said.  “No more, or there’ll be no race and no Saturday night dance in town.  Do you understand?”

My brothers nodded their heads and from then until race day, they simply ignored each other, stayed out of the same room, and kept their mouths shut, but the tension was thicker’n dark, heavy clouds before a summer storm.  Somethin’ else—deeper—was botherin’ them both, and it had nothin’ to do with curryin’ horses or the Founder’s Day race.

***

Paul Martin followed me back to the Ponderosa in his buggy.  He had other patients to tend to after Adam and Joe.  I just started his day a little earlier than he’d planned.

When I told him about Joe, he took some of the blame on hisself when he said he should have checked the boy out at the scene.  I told him that was nonsense, that we all thought Joe was fine and it weren’t his fault, but I knew he didn’t believe me.  He still felt regret and there weren’t nothin’ more I could say.

Doc checked out both brothers.  He let Adam out of bed and confirmed Joe had suffered a concussion.  Joe’s limp was gone by morning, but Paul told him that’s why Mr. Cartwright had asked him out to the ranch.  A little white lie never hurt no one.

“Take it easy, young man,” Paul said.  “Let the Cartwrights pamper you for a few days before you start working full-time.  They’re good people.  Do right by them and they’ll do right by you.”

“Yessir. Thank you, sir.”

“I want you to stay in bed and rest today.  See how you feel tomorrow, but only light work.  I’ll allow you to go down for meals, but that’s all I want you to do, you understand?”

“Yessir.”

I nearly chuckled at Joe’s keen sense of politeness.  He’d forgotten how much he hated doctors but most of all, it was a nice change after the nonsense Pa and I had put up with before that dang race.  Since Adam was busy shavin’ and dressin’ in his own room, he hadn’t been in to see Joe yet, but I assumed the politeness would last.  Joe weren’t about to argue with a “stranger.”

I don’t think Pa and I could have said or done anything that would have prevented the reaction my younger brother had when he laid eyes on Adam.  Not only was the reaction uncalled for, it was brutal and undeserving, and we were taken by surprise.

“Joseph, no!”  Pa shouted.  “Joseph, stop!”

I grabbed my young brother off Adam and pulled him tight against my chest.  His breathing was thick and loud as he twisted and fought to get away.  Locking him in a stranglehold was all I could do until he finally settled down.  Most of the fight had gone out of him, but he was still rigid and clutching his hands into fists.

Adam hadn’t fought back.  He’d let Joe pommel him to the floor and he never took a swing; he only tried to protect hisself from the anger and the sudden attack.  Pa was on one knee next to my eldest brother, lifting him to a sitting position.  While Pa tried to turn Adam’s face to inspect the damage, Adam pushed my father’s hands away.

“I’m all right, Pa.  It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?  Your brother beats you half to death and it’s nothing?”

Adam pushed hisself up.  He brushed hisself off like they’d been fightin’ in a horse corral rather than on the dining room floor.

Joe’s struggle had lessened against my hold.

“You gonna behave?”

“Lemme go, you big oaf.  Let me go.”

I released my little brother.  To him, I was a stranger—a big oaf—who’d grabbed him from behind and pulled him off another man, a stranger he chose to attack.

“What’s this all about, Joseph?”  Pa asked.

“Why do you call me that?  It’s not my name.”

“I’m sorry … Joe.”

“My name ain’t Joe either, old man.”

I grabbed my brother’s arm and jerked him around to face me, and in my sternest voice, I explained the house rules.  “Respect your elders, boy.  You talk like that again and I’ll teach you the value of respect.”

“I don’t have to listen to this.  I don’t have to listen to any of you.  I’m outta here.”

“Just tell me one thing?”  I said.

“What?”

“Why’d you attack this man?”  I pointed to Adam.  “Why’d you want to hurt him?”

“’Cause I hate him.”

“Take Adam upstairs, Hoss,” Pa said.  “I’ll stay here with Joe.”

“I told you, old man.  My name ain’t—“

I jerked Joe’s arm harder this time.  “What’s wrong with you? Ain’t you got a brain in your head?”

“It’s okay, Hoss.”

“No, it ain’t, Pa.”

“Go on.  Go with Adam.”

I held my temper, but I weren’t gonna let Joe get away with that kind of behavior ever again.

“Yessir,” I said.

It didn’t feel right leavin’ Joe with Pa.  What if something happened?  How would I break up a fight if I weren’t even in the same room?  Pa couldn’t handle Joe alone, not after what we’d just witnessed with Adam.

Joe glared at me, tested me.  Would I let him go or not?  Would he win the battle of wills?  I dropped my hand from his arm, but I was good at glaring too.

“Behave yourself.”

I exchanged Joe’s arm for Adam’s.  We crossed the room together and headed upstairs to his bedroom.  I hesitated at the first landing and looked back over my shoulder.  I looked again from the upstairs hallway.  Joe hadn’t moved.  His hard glare followed me up the stairs until I was out of sight.

After I settled Adam in bed, I had to ask.  “You really okay?”

“I will be.”

My brother was tryin’ to hide any aches and pains he might have had, but it was obvious to me that his midsection was plenty sore.  His face was already startin’ to show signs of bruisin’.

“What the heck happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Adam.  You must have said something.”

“I never said a word.”

“So, you’re tellin’ me Joe just walked up to you and starting beatin’ the daylights outta ya.”

“Pretty much, only he didn’t walk.  As soon as he saw me, he charged like a fighting bull.”

“He what?  Why?”

“I have no idea.”

“If you’re okay, I wanna get back downstairs.  I don’t trust Joe alone with Pa.”

“Go ahead.  I’m fine.”

“Want some of Pa’s brandy?”

Adam chuckled.  “I’d better not start.”

I patted my brother’s leg.  “Okay, don’t cause no more trouble, you hear?”

“Right, funny man.  Seriously, don’t let the kid out of your sight.”

***

I stood at the top of the stairs.  All I could see was Pa’s back; he towered over my little brother, but they were talking and no one’s voice was raised.  There was no threatening advances or shouts of anger, and I wasn’t sure if I should interrupt or not.  Pa was handlin’ Joe just fine without my help.  I didn’t want to break the spell.

The boy wasn’t Joe.  He was someone else altogether, and Doc had agreed with me. “Take it slow,” he’d said to me and Pa.  “Let the boy remember on his own.  Don’t push.”  So how had Pa calmed him down so quickly without engagin’ the father/son bond that connected the two of them so deeply?

The Joe who attacked Adam was more like an animal—a predator—than a human being. I seen the look in his eyes.  He’d focused on his prey then attacked with everything he had in him.  I witnessed the rage and it scared me.  He weren’t nothin’ like my little brother, nothin’ connected that “violent Joe” to Little Joe Cartwright.

I kept my place at the top of the stairs as Pa guided Joe to the settee where they sat down next to each other, still calm, still talking.  I knew right then it weren’t my place to interrupt somethin’ so pure between my pa and his lost son.  Even if Joe didn’t recognize the relationship as such, he was respectin’ our father and listenin’ to what he had to say.

***

When morning came, I dressed and headed outside to the barn.  I was the first to wake, and I wanted the chores behind me in case I was needed.  I still had fears.  I never wanted to see that predatory look again, and I vowed I’d stay close to Joe and prevent any further attacks on Adam.  Pa was sippin’ his coffee when I came back inside and joined him at the dining room table.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“Didn’t sleep much last night, Pa.”

“I’m not sure any of us did.”

“You seen Adam yet?”

“Yes,” Pa said.  “He’s awake.  I took him a cup of coffee, but I asked him to stay in bed for now.”

“He okay with that?”

“You know your brother.”

“Yeah.”

“I wanted you here when Adam came downstairs … just in case.”

Though I wanted to ask Pa about last night’s talk with Joe, I felt nervous inside.  We’d never kept secrets before, but we’d never had problems like this before either.  I sat back and hoped Pa would say something, but he never did.  Instead, he asked if I’d take Joe to town with me today.

“I didn’t think he’s supposed to be out of bed.”

“You can take the buckboard and pick up the mail.  Joe can ride along.  Nothing strenuous about that and maybe something will trigger his mind.  The scenery, maybe Virginia City.  Maybe a saloon.”

“Okay.”

“If there’s trouble, you’ll be right there with him.”

“All right.  If that’s what you want.”

“I do.”

“And when we get back?”

Pa smiled.  “We’ll worry about that later.”

Pa’s ideas worried me.  Removing Joe from the house was only a temporary fix, and that weren’t Pa’s normal way of reactin’ to a situation.  Normally, he’d take a stand and confront the problem head-on, but not this time.  This time he was separatin’ my brothers and puttin’ off the inevitable.  Eventually, Joe and Adam would be together in the same room.  In my mind, our family problem was far from over.

***

Joe was quiet on the way to town.  I tried to make simple conversation, but I could tell he was nervous; he worried his hands in his lap, and he shifted his eyes to both sides of the road.  Was he looking for something or someone?  After a time, I became unsettled myself.

Monday mornings were a busy time in Virginia City.  Suppliers hauled their wares, and merchants restocked before ranchers and miners snatched what they needed off the shelves.  We were only here to pick up mail, nothing more, but the traffic on “C” Street kept everyone alert.  Except for one lone rider.

It all happened so fast; I have trouble recalling the exact order of events but when the rider veered left, two fully loaded freight wagons collided.  Tall wooden crates tumbled to the ground, most breaking into, and leaving “C” Street a cluttered, impassable mess of rubble.  I pulled the buckboard to the side of the road but before I could stop completely, Joe had jumped to the ground and took off runnin’.

Two men lie facedown on the street, the rider and one of the wagon drivers.  Basic instincts had kicked in and Joe ran toward the rider.  I headed toward the driver and knelt down beside him.  I rolled him over.  His forehead was bleeding; he wasn’t moving.  I opened the top buttons of his shirt and patted the side of his face.  When I glanced over my shoulder at the lone rider, the man was already up and walking alongside his horse, shaking each leg to see if they still worked, I guess.  I blinked repeatedly but there was no sign of Joe.  I stood to my feet.

Maybe I should have hollered for my brother right off.  Instead, I scanned the street, but the overturned wagon, broken crates, and the growing crowd of onlookers blocked my long-distance view.  Joe was nowhere in sight.  He’d simply vanished.

“Harris,” I said to a man I recognized.  “Have you seen Joe?”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s right over—he ain’t there,” he said.  He squinted his eyes as if that might improve his vision.  “He was there a minute ago.”

“Stay here,” I said, moving Jack Harris closer to the downed man.  “I gotta find Joe.”

I ran back to the buckboard, and I scanned ”C” Street.  From the highest crest and then slowly down the sloping hill, there was no sign of my brother.  Joe wasn’t a big man and, because of the harried commotion, I wasn’t able to see much at all.  I glanced at the saloon across the street.  Is that where he’d go?  I didn’t know but after checking five saloons on one side, I crossed the street and hit two more before I came out and stood on the boardwalk.  With my hands on my hips, I skimmed through the crowd once more but this time, my eyes popped big and round when I found Joe sittin’ on the seat of the buckboard.

“I’ll be gall darn.”  I hurried up the street.

“Where you been?”  Joe asked.

“Me?  Lookin’ for you.”

“I’ve been waiting here a long time.  Thought maybe you decided to have a beer or something.”

“Guess we got our wires crossed, didn’t we?”

“I guess so.”

I didn’t question his whereabouts.  I turned the buckboard and started for home only this time I handed Joe the reins.  “You drive. I’m plumb tuckered out.”  I sat back and enjoyed the ride until we were about halfway home, and Joe said something only a rational, intelligent man might say, but it was a little late in comin’.

“We never picked up the mail.”

I laughed so dang hard; I nearly split myself wide open.  Even though Joe didn’t see the humor, I caught a brief smile and I clapped his shoulder.

“Guess we didn’t, did we?”

“Ain’t your pa gonna be mad?”

“Naw, not after I explain what happened.”

Pa was pacin’ the room when Joe and I walked through the front door.  We were late gettin’ back ‘cause of the accident and searchin’ for Joe, and Pa was worried.  Nothin’ new, of course, but I had a good enough explanation though before I could explain …

Joe walked in behind me but as soon as he saw who was sittin’ in the blue chair; the whole fiasco between my brothers began again only I was faster this time.  I grabbed my little brother’s arm and jerked him toward me.

“Knock it off!”  

Joe’s breathing was heavy and strong and he fought against my grasp, but he was nowhere near strong enough to fight off a man my size.

“Cut it out!  Stop fightin’ me, Joe.”

Adam had moved behind his chair.  He was still feelin’ the bruises from yesterday, and he wasn’t about to fight his young brother again.  Sure, they’d scuffled before, but not like this. This time, Joe was out for blood and determined to inflict major injuries to his oldest brother.

I was beginnin’ to think we should tell Joe who he was, that Adam was his brother, but I remembered what Paul Martin had said, and I tossed those thoughts from my mind, but this whole mess was gettin’ out of hand.  Joe couldn’t be trusted in the same room with Adam.  It weren’t just a one-time thing.  We all knew that now.

Before Pa had time to add his two cents, I jerked Joe’s arm again.  I pulled him out the front door, dragged him to the barn, and forced him to sit on an upturned wooden bucket.  I was boilin’-over mad.

“You move from that spot and you’re a dead man, you hear me?”

The boy nodded.  He knew I meant business and he didn’t challenge me.  I sat across from him on a bale of hay, clasped my hands together so I wouldn’t hurt him, but I got right in his face.

“This can’t continue.”

No answer.

“You don’t even know the man—”

Joe shook his head.

“—but that’s twice you’ve gone after him.  Why, Joe?”

Joe worried his hands together.  He mighta been nervous, but he weren’t talkin’.

“Talk to me, Joe.”

“My name isn’t Joe.”  His voice was calm.  The rage was gone … for now.

“What’d you want me to call you?  Bill?  Sam?  Fred?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hey, you?”

“I said I don’t know.”

“My pa took you into his home.  He gave you food and a roof over your head, and you attack his eldest son.  Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“We ain’t gettin’ very far here, are we, my little friend?”

“Tell your pa I’m sorry, Hoss.”  Joe stood to his feet.  He walked toward the half-walled stall where he kept Cochise’s tack.  He slipped the bit into his horse’s mouth and tightened the leather strap.  “Tell him thanks for everything.”

I stood to my feet.  “You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Joe chuckled.  “You gonna stop me?”

“If I have to.”

Joe’s arms fanned the air in an I-give-up expression.  “I don’t understand any of you.  I ain’t your kin but you take me in anyway.  I try to hurt your brother and you tell me I can’t leave. What gives?”

“There’s more to the story.”

“Okay … explain.”

“I can’t.”

Joe’s tone turned ugly.  “You know something I don’t?”

“Sort of.”

“And you ain’t gonna tell me?”

“Not right now.”

“Then I’m outta here.”

“No, you ain’t. Come on.  Sit down.  I’ll tell you everything I know.”

But I never had a chance to explain.  We both turned our heads when a rider entered the yard and hitched his mount in front of the house.  The front door opened and Pa walked outside.  When I saw who’d ridden out to the ranch, I had Joe wait for me in the barn.

“I’ll be right back.  I pointed my index finger at my little brother.  “Don’t you move a muscle.”

The kid saluted me, and I shook my head.  I didn’t know whether to laugh or smack that silly grin off his face.  Roy Coffee was our visitor and I’d bet a week’s pay it weren’t no social call.  The sheriff had already said his piece when I met up with him and Pa.

“What’s up, Sheriff?”

“Where’s Joe?”  Pa asked.

“In the barn.  Why?”

“Roy needs to talk to him.”

“What for?”

“Just go get him, Hoss.  Bring him … bring him here to the porch.”

“All right.”

I did as Pa asked.  I didn’t know what was goin’ on, but I dragged Joe across the yard to talk to the sheriff.  I sat him down in a chair on the front porch where Pa and Roy had already taken seats, but I stood right next to him.  Pa was smart to keep the conversation outside. The sheriff didn’t need to know our private affairs, but I was beginnin’ to think maybe Adam wasn’t our only problem.

***

I swore I’d kill the next person who spoke ill of my little brother.  Roy Coffee had his say, and Pa and Joe had said nothing.  Was it up to me to do all the defendin’?  This was a ridiculous accusation.  The sheriff had more sense than to blame my brother, and I told him so in plain words.

“Aw, come on, Sheriff.  You know this family and you know Little Joe.  You know he’d never be involved in a … in some gal’s murder.”

“I got me an eye-witness, Hoss.  Says Joe ran out the back door of the mercantile right after the young lady was killed.”

“Then maybe your eye-witness needs glasses ‘cause it weren’t Joe.”

“I’d like to hear his side of the story, if you don’t mind, Hoss.”

“Maybe I do mind, Roy.”

“Hoss,” Pa said.  “Let Joe explain.”

Roy turned in his chair.  He faced my little brother.

“Little Joe,” Roy said.

“Little Joe?”  Joe repeated.

“That’s your name, ain’t it?”

After a quick glance at Pa, Joe looked up at me.  His eyes was narrowed like they’s questionin’ everything, maybe even his own sanity.  I weren’t no mind reader, but I knew the boy’s mind was working overtime.

“There’s something you don’t know about, Roy,” Pa said.

“Pa … not right now.”

This wasn’t the time to spring Joe’s sickness on him.  What would it do to my little brother? Would the doc want us to do this?  The stress of a murder charge and tellin’ Joe the truth was too much all at once.

“It’s time we got everything out in the open, son.”

“But Pa …”

“Sit down, Hoss.”

“Don’t you think we oughta ask the doc first?”

“What’s this all about, Ben?”  Roy said, turning back to face my father.

“Joseph,” Pa said, turning to Joe.  There’s something you need to know.”

Joe didn’t know who to look at or what to do next.  His eyes flitted from one person to another.  He’d just been accused of murder, Pa had called him Joseph, and I was holding my breath ‘cause I didn’t know what else to do.  Tellin’ Joe he was part of the family scared me to death.  Our eyes met briefly.  Did he still trust me?

“You had an accident, Joseph,” Pa said.  “You and your brother, Adam.”

Joe stared at Pa.  He was just told he had a brother named Adam, but did he even know who Adam was?

“You mean the race?”  Roy asked.

“Yes, Roy, I mean the race.”  Pa turned back to Joe and spoke slowly.  “You and your brother entered the Founder’s Day race and there was an accident.  You both fell from your horses. You had a concussion and it appears you lost your memory.”  Pa took a deep breath.  “You’re my son, Joseph.  Hoss and Adam are your brothers.”

Joe took it all in, every word Pa said then he closed his eyes.  His features hardened; the pain was back.  His knees supported his elbows, and he pressed his hands to the sides of his head.  I knelt down in front of him and covered his smaller hands with mine.

“It’s all right, boy. It’s okay.  Hoss is right here.  Hoss’ll take care of everything.”

Considerin’ Joe’s amnesia, Roy didn’t take my brother to jail.  He left him in Pa’s custody.  We settled him in his bedroom, and that’s where he’d spent the next two days, sleepin’ mostly. Paul Martin had been out twice.  Each time, Pa had to wake Joe so Doc could examine him, but there’d been no change.  Joe wouldn’t talk to no one, not even me.

Pa hadn’t left Joe’s bedside.  Even when I tried to make him rest, the answer was no, but Pa weren’t the only one hurtin’.  Joe was confused and I couldn’t help ease nothin’ about the situation.  Then, there was Adam—the stranger—now brother—that Joe couldn’t bear to look at without attacking.

***

Her name was Bess Corbin, and she’d moved to Virginia City just two months ago from some little town near St. Louis.  Her brother, Samuel, had moved to Virginia City over a year ago and opened a general store, Corbin’s Mercantile.  His business was doing well, and he’d invited his sister to join him and help ease the frantic pace of operatin’ a high-traffic store.

This was only part of the story.  My brothers had been at each other’s throats for some time. There’d been signs of bad blood between them even before the horse race, and I’d figgered there was somethin’ else causin’ them to rip each other apart with either words or fists, and I’d been right.

The night after Roy’s visit, Joe and Pa were asleep upstairs—at least Joe was—and me and Adam sat by the fire when he revealed the missing link to the story.

“I’m partly to blame,” Adam said.

“Blame?  What for?”

“Joe saw her first.”

“You mean you was both courtin’ the same gal?”

“I’m afraid so though I didn’t think so at first.  I didn’t think Joe cared anything about her. He’d been seeing Clara Holbrook and—well, I thought the road to Bess was clear.  I didn’t think he was interested.”

“Joe’s always interested, big brother.”

“Well … that’s true.”

“Okay, so what happened?”

“It wasn’t long after she first arrived, I asked if she’d have lunch with me and she said yes.  We’d seen each other two or three times before she put two and two together and realized Joe and I were brothers.  Before that, I didn’t realize she and Joe had ever officially met, but I was wrong.  Remember those times we were riding out to the branding pit and Joe said there was something he had to do first?”

“Twice, if I remember right.”

“Twice,” Adam confirmed, “and twice Joe made some lame excuse so he could go to the mercantile and swoon over the new girl in town.”

“So how’d he find out about you and her seein’ each other too?”

“I’m not sure.  Maybe Bess told him.  Maybe she said she’d been with me.  I really don’t know, but somehow he found out she and I were seeing each other and …”

“And that’s when all the trouble started between you two.  Am I right?”

“Pretty much.”

I remembered the perfumed letter in Joe’s saddlebags, but I didn’t say nothin’ to Adam.  I had a suspicious feelin’ that little gal was stringin’ both brothers along, but I didn’t have no proof, and I kept my thoughts to myself.

Adam stood to poke the fire, and I thought on the story he’d just told.  With Miss Corbin bein’ the underlyin’ factor, it was anyone’s guess what mighta happened durin’ that race. Who tripped up who?  It was anyone’s guess.

“I ain’t sure if you remember, but just after the accident, you and me talked about the race, and you said it was your fault you both went down.  Are you sure about that?”

Adam tilted his head, but that’s how he thought, private and quiet-like.  He wouldn’t meet nobody’s eyes till he had everything worked out in his mind and was sure of his answer.

“I thought it was me at the time. Now I’m not so sure.”

“Joe wouldn’t a bumped your horse on purpose, Adam.  Is that’s what you’re sayin’?”

“No, and don’t be putting words in my mouth.”

I sighed overloud.  “You think Bess is the reason Joe attacked you?  You think there’s a part of his brain that remembers certain things?”

“Possibly.  It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, sure does.”

“The kid has no idea who he is, but he knows he hates me.”

“Oh, Adam.  Joe don’t hate you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“But it’s a start, ain’t it?  Leastwise, Joe remembers part of his past.”

“It only makes things worse, Hoss.  It proves Joe might be guilty of—“

“Oh, come on, Adam.  You know Joe as well as I do.  He’d never kill no one less it was self-defense.”

“Then who did?”

***

Adam attended Bess Corbin’s funeral.  He paid his final respects to her brother—the only family she had—but his polite gesture wasn’t welcomed.  A Cartwright had killed his sister, and the shop owner was adamant.  He wanted the murderer in custody, not left free to roam anywhere he damn well pleased.  Sheriff Coffee rode out that afternoon.  He’d also attended the funeral and said he had no choice.  He’d come to collect Little Joe.

“It’s my duty, Ben.  I got this here arrest warrant, and I’m obligated to take Little Joe back to town with me and hold him in jail until the trial.”

“Oh, Roy,” Pa argued.  “The boy isn’t well.  If need be, Paul Martin will put it in writing.  Joe needs his family right now, and I don’t expect an outsider to care for him in his current condition, not even you.”

“I got no choice, Ben.  Sam Corbin insists.”

“You tell Sam Corbin he can—“

“Easy, Pa,” I said.  “Why don’t I ride in with Joe?”  I nodded at Roy.  “That all right with you, Sheriff?”

Roy huffed kinda disgusted like.  “You gonna sit in the cell with your brother too?”

“Yep.  That’s the plan.”

***

Joe and I sat together for the rest of that day and night.  Joe didn’t say a word, and nothin’ I said made much sense to his befuddled mind.  Since Pa’d been forced to tell him who he really was, he’d kinda kept to hisself.  Even in tight quarters, he wasn’t much for talkin’.  He kept lookin’ at me—sizin’ me up was more like it—and I understood why.  Me and Joe didn’t look nothin’ alike and he was havin’ a hard time puttin’ the pieces together.

Storey County paid for its guest’s food, but I paid for my own vittles.  I didn’t expect the county to go broke feedin’ me so when Roy said he was going to pick up Joe’s supper, I handed him a dollar, enough to cover a meal for me too.  Coffee was on the house but after Roy took our supper trays away that first night, I tried again to get Joe to open up.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Wanna talk some?”

“About what?”

“It don’t matter.”

“I didn’t kill no girl.”

“How do you know?  I mean, do you remember somethin’ about all that missin’ time?”

Joe shook his head.  “I remember running toward the rider and kneeling down next to him. He was alive.”

“Yeah, then what?”

“He—he pushed me away.  Said he didn’t need my help.”

“Okay.  That’s good, Joe.  What’d you do then?”

“He—he was favoring his left shoulder—you know, like it hurt.”

“Then what happened?”

“He started walking away but he looked back at me and he … he stared so I stared back.”

“Did you recognize the fella, Joe?  Was he big?  Small?”

“I don’t know.  My size I guess.”

“He wasn’t big?  Like me?”

Joe laughed.  “No one’s as big as you.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.”

I wondered who the guy was.  I hadn’t recognized him. I’d run toward the man driving the wagon, and I never paid much attention to the rider, but now I was curious.

“So the fella walked away and what’d you do then?”

“Went back to the buckboard and waited for you.”

That wasn’t exactly the truth, but I didn’t know if Joe realized that or not.  I hated to push him too hard, but he wasn’t sitting in the buckboard until much, much later.

***

Adam Cartwright, Detective—leastwise, that’s what I called him these past couple of days. He’d spent from mornin’ till night in town, and he was all eyes-n-ears.  He was searchin’ for Bess Corbin’s killer, and I knew he wouldn’t stop lookin’ until he had someone to replace Joe in Roy Coffee’s cell.

Adam would stop by Roy’s office each afternoon and since the sheriff didn’t want the entire Cartwright clan clutterin’ up his jail, he had Adam wait for me in the outer office, which was actually the best solution anyhow.  If Joe had gone after Adam and Roy saw the rage in my little brother’s eyes, he’d have to testify to them sudden bursts of anger in a court of law. We sure didn’t want that to happen.

“Anything new, detective?”  I said after we’d stepped outside Roy’s office.

“Actually, yes,” Adam replied; only he didn’t seem none too happy about the prospect.

“Well?  You gonna tell me or do I have to stand here and guess?”

“You in a hurry to get back inside?”

“Not really.  Why?”

“Come on.  I’ll buy you a beer.”

I grinned at my big brother and slung my arm across his shoulders.  “What’d are we waitin’ for?  Let’s go.”

Adam ordered two beers and we found a secluded table near the back of the saloon.  He acted as sober as a judge, and I was growin’ a bit nervous just watchin’ him.  I never imagined Joe had anything to do with Bess Corbin’s murder, but I didn’t much like the look on my brother’s face either.

“Okay, spill it, Adam.”

He sipped his beer real slow and easy-like; his mindful look gave me the willies, and I wished he’d just talk.  Instead, his eyes were hooded; his hat was pulled low on his forehead and when he finally set his mug down on the table and looked at me, I was afraid of what he might say.

“It appears Miss Corbin had a plethora of suitors.”

“A what?”

“A large number of gentleman callers.”

“Oh,” I said.  “It weren’t just you and Joe, right?”

Adam smiled, but it weren’t a happy smile.  It was kind of a nervous smile.

“No, it wasn’t just Joe and me.”

“What are you sayin’, Adam?”

“I’m saying there were a large number of men who might have been angry over her … shall we say … her flirtatious nature.”

“A plethora of men?”

Adam chuckled softly.  “Exactly.”

“So, how many are we talkin’ about?”

“Oh, I’d guess Bess Corbin rarely spent an evening at home alone, Hoss.”

“And Joe?”

“And Joe, maybe in the beginning or until he knew I was seeing her too.  Now, I realize we were all made fools of.”

“What’s that mean for Joe, Adam?”

“I don’t know.  It was broad daylight, and Sam Corbin swears he saw Joe running out the back door of the mercantile.”

“So Sam’s the eye-witness?  Why’d he think it was Joe?”

“I’m not sure.  Height?  Weight?”

“The day of the murder,” I said, “when the rider and the wagon collided with each other, Joe said the rider was his same height and weight.”

“Does he have a name?”

“I’m sure he does but …”

“That’s not a lot to go on, Hoss.”

I was graspin’ at straws and I knew it but galldarn, I also knew Joe wouldn’t kill nobody, ‘specially a girl he was courtin’, or at least thought he was courtin’. “I know Joe’s in a state right now, but that don’t make him a murderer.”

“I never said Joe was a murderer.”

“Just sayin’ what I believe, Adam.”

My brother only shook his head.  He was doin’ the best he could to find information and maybe I’d been too hard on him, but I was so frustrated over this whole thing, I just wanted to make sure Adam and I were on the same side of the road.

We didn’t stay for a second beer.  Adam had a long ride home, and I needed to get back to Joe.  Though I’d been gone less than a half-hour, I returned to a state of chaos.  With a rifle held at waist level, Roy was standin’ guard and Paul Martin was tryin’ to calm Joe down. Joe’d been sick to his stomach, and the vile smell filled every room of Roy’s office.  When I took a step forward, Roy handed me the wooden bucket from Joe’s cell.

“Get rid of this.”

“What happened?”

Roy made a face.  “Go dump that first.”

I emptied the contents in the back alley, kicked dirt over the mess, and hurried back inside.  Again, I asked, “What happened?”

“Your brother got sick.  I called the doc.”

I wasn’t stupid, and Roy’s comment made me mad.  “I can see that, Sheriff, but I want to know why my brother was sick.  What’d you do to him?”

“I was only askin’ Joe some questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

“I asked him where he was that day the wagon overturned in the street.”

“And?”

“Well, he told me he’d helped the rider who fell then he waited for you in the buckboard.”

“That’s right.  That’s exactly what happened,” I lied.

“That’s when your brother got sick, Hoss.  He’s holdin’ his head like it might explode then he jumped off the cot.  I thought he was comin’ after me, but he dived for the bucket instead so I sent my deputy for the doc.”

“I don’t understand.  That’s all that was said?”

“That’s all, Hoss.”

I moved inside the cell with Paul Martin and Joe.  My brother was lyin’ down and the doc had a wet cloth on the kid’s forehead.  “He okay, Doc?”

“I think so, Hoss.  He had a rough few minutes though.”

“Yeah.  That’s why he should be home with us instead of in this cell.”  I made sure Roy heard me loud and clear.

“It’s the law, Hoss.  I ain’t got no choice but to hold him.”

“Right,” I said.

Paul stood from the cot where he’d sat down next to Joe.  “You can take it from here, Hoss. I think the worst is over now.”

“Thanks, Doc.  I’ll be here all night.”

“That’s good.  He needs his family.”

I turned and glared at Roy, but letter-of-the-law Coffee never budged an inch.

***

Closeout Sale

Samuel Corbin was selling out.  Corbin’s Mercantile, which was a much-needed asset in Virginia City, was going out of business.  Sam was leaving town, lock, stock, and barrel.

“The death of his sister must have really hit him hard,” I said to Adam when he came by the following evening, but my brother thought it was strange.  Our minds often worked in different ways.  This was one of them times.

“Doesn’t it seem odd that a shopkeeper would leave a thriving business behind, sister or no sister?”

“Whatcha gettin’ at, Adam.  Seems Bess meant a lot to him.  Member how he used to stand right next to her anytime someone came into the store?  Like he was protectin’ her from all of us ruffians.”

“Yes, and I remember how much she hated him hovering over her.  She couldn’t wait until the store closed and she had time for herself.”

“Time for other men you mean.”

“Yeah—well, that too.”

“Sorry,”

“Don’t be.  I never read the signs although …”

“Although what, Adam?”

My brother ran his finger across his chin then nodded his head.  Like he’d just put a match to a wick, a light shone bright in his mind.

“You know I’d never … I’d never act improperly with a woman.”

“Yeah.  So’d you slip up this time ‘round and try to kiss her or somethin’?  Did she smack you good?”

“No, nothing like that, Hoss.  She kissed me.”

“Maybe she liked you.”

“The first night I took her out.  She—kissed—me.”

“Then what happened?”

Guess I got a little carried away ‘cause Adam looked real irritated at my question.

“Then nothing, Hoss.”

“Well,” I said.  “That was right gentlemanly of you.”

Adam sighed.  I knew that sigh by heart.  It was his exasperation sigh.  Joe and I’d been on the receivin’ end of that angry sigh many times before.

“What I’m trying to say is maybe I was the only suitor besides Joe, of course, who acted gentlemanly.”  Adam spoke his words real slow and careful-like.

“Oh … you mean what I think you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“Sam Corbin wouldn’t like that none, would he?”

“No, I don’t expect he would.”

“You don’t think … “

“I don’t know, but I think it’s time we ran this little theory by Roy Coffee.”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

***

It had been a rough couple of days and nights.  Pa would ride in and stay with Joe while I went home, did a few chores around the house, and cleaned up some before I rode back to town to spend the night in the cell with my little brother.  I’d met Adam at the Silver Dollar at about four in the afternoon and over a couple of beers, we’d hashed out our thoughts about Sam Corbin.  It was a long shot, but Adam and I marched straight back to Roy’s office just before suppertime.

“We need to talk,” I said to Roy.  “Pa needs to hear this too.”

As he picked up the ring of keys, Roy let go of a long, heavy breath before he unlocked the cell.  “Come on out, Ben.”

“What’s this all about?”  Pa asked.

“Ask your boys,” he grumbled.  “They’re in my office.”

“Hey, Pa,” I said.  “How’s Little Joe?”

“He’s fine.  What going on?”

“You two sit down and we’ll explain.”  I gave Adam the floor.  He could say things better’n I could so I let him tell how it coulda been Bess’s brother who shot her, and how he was framin’ Joe for her murder.

“You have no proof,” Roy said when Adam was finished talking.

“No proof?”  I shouted.  “Who was your eyeball witness, Sheriff?”

“You calm down, Hoss.  I understand what you’re sayin’, son, but it’s one man’s word over another, and Joe don’t remember nothing about his whereabouts that day.”

“He helped the rider and he got back in the buckboard.  End of story.”

“No it ain’t, Hoss.  You and I both know there’s lost time in between the two.”

With my hands pressed hard against my hips, I turned so I didn’t have to look at the sheriff. He knew Pa and the rest of our family as good men, as decent citizens of the community; yet, he was believin’ a stranger over me and Adam and Joe.  It didn’t make sense.

“So what happens now, Roy?”  Pa said.  “Are you going to question Sam Corbin?”

“It’s my duty to talk to him but right now I’m bein’ overrun by Cartwrights.  I’m the elected law here, Ben, and if you’d let me do my job, maybe we could get to the bottom of this whole miserable situation.”

“Fine,” Pa said.  “Go do your job.  We’ll stay here with Joe while you’re gone.”

Pa was fumin’ mad.  His tone of voice might scare most men but not Roy Coffee.  Roy checked his gun, slipped on his hat, and slammed the office door on his way out.

“I hope your boys are right.”

“I hope so too, Pa.  Sam Corbin might be our last hope.”

“I think I’ll follow Roy down to Corbin’s,” Adam said.  “Just in case there’s trouble.”

***

After they’d gone to pick up the man Adam and I suspected had killed Bess, Joe began asking questions.  Finally, Joe wanted to talk.  He’d overheard the earlier commotion in the outer office and wondered if we was all mad at him or somethin’ other than bein’ accused of murder.

“’Course not. Why would you think that?”

“If I really am your brother … and I’ve been accused of killing that girl, I guess there’d be plenty of reason for you and Mr. Cartwright—um, our pa to be mad.”

“That ain’t it at all, Joe.  There’s another suspect in that young lady’s murder. The sheriff’s bringin’ him in now.”

Joe was suddenly interested.  “Who?”

“Sam Corbin.  Bess Corbin’s brother.”

When Joe squished his eyes together, I moved to sit beside him.  “What is it, Joe?  What do you remember?”

He shook his head slowly.

“The store,” he said.  “I went inside the mercantile.”

“After you helped the rider?”

“I think so.”

“This was before you waited for me in the buckboard, right?”

“Yeah.  I went inside the store.”

“Why?”

Joe shook his head again.  “I—I don’t know.”

“Was you goin’ there to see Bess?”

“Bess?”

“She’s the one who sent you that love note, Joe.  She the girl who was murdered?”

“I’m not sure.  Maybe.  Love note?”

“Never mind.  Just forget that for now and try to remember what happened next.”

“I stood at the counter and I … and a man—a man came up from behind.  I didn’t hear him or see him until he grabbed my shoulders.  He … he threw me across the room and I landed near a table of copper pots and pans, and the whole display clattered to the floor.”

Joe was talkin’ and he was rememberin’.  His memory of that day seemed to come in bits and pieces, but I encouraged him to keep goin’ till it was all said and done.

“What man? Who what he?”

“He was tall.  He grabbed me again and pulled me to my feet.  He dragged me across the room.  Someone … someone was yelling.  The girl—” Joe looked me straight in the eye, and I knew right then and there he was tellin’ the honest truth.  “She was yelling at him to stop.”

“Go on.”

Joe pressed his hands hard against his head, but I had to keep him talkin’.  Pain or no pain, he was finally rememberin’.  I had to hear the story straight from Joe’s mouth before Roy walked in with Corbin.

“He yelled at her, Hoss.  He kept telling her to shut up.  He called her names, bad names. He pulled me across the floor to the back, to the … to the storage room, and he—he plowed his fist into my stomach, and I doubled over, but he pulled me up straight and twisted my arm around my back and shoved the side of my face against the back door.”

“What happened then?  Did he … just tell me what happened next, Joe.”

“He jerked me back; he had his arm around my neck and he opened the back door then he booted me down the steps to the alley.  I couldn’t get up right away, but I wasn’t really hurt none.  Then there was a noise.”

“What kind of noise?”

“I don’t know.  A loud noise and I got … I got scared and I ran to the buckboard.  I waited for you to come back.”

“You done good, Joe.  You done real good.”

Joe kinda half-smiled.  We weren’t outta the woods yet, but I was feelin’ a whole lot better about things already.

***

I stood to my feet when the three of them—Roy, Adam, and Sam Corbin—walked inside the office, and I hollered at Roy to let me out of Joe’s cell.

“Roy!”  I hollered a second time.  “Let me outta here!”

Roy wasn’t pleased with all my hollerin’, but he unlocked the cell and held the door open.  I grabbed Little Joe’s arm and pulled him out with me.  I pushed passed the sheriff and hauled my little brother to the outer office.

“Is this the man who pushed you out the back door?”

Joe looked at Sam Corbin.  “That’s him, Hoss.  That’s the man.”

“Hoss Cartwright,” Roy hollered.  “I ought to lock you up for pullin’ a stunt like that.”

“Lock me up later, Roy.  Right now, you stand there and listen to Joe’s story.”  I looked Joe straight in the eye.  “Tell the sheriff what you just told me.”

And he did, word for word.

“What was that loud noise, Mr. Corbin?”  I growled.  “You shoot your own sister and blame it on some innocent kid?”

“You’re crazy.  Why would I kill my own sister?”

“Maybe ‘cause she didn’t meet your expectations.”

“My what?  Who is this man, Sheriff?”

It was my turn to be Hoss Cartwright: Detective.  “Your sister liked men, didn’t she.  She enjoyed enticin’ them, didn’t she?  Maybe a little too much for your likin’, didn’t she, Mr. Corbin?”

“Hoss, stop,” Pa said.  “That’s enough.”

I was so busy hollerin’ at Sam Corbin that I didn’t notice what was happenin’ to Joe.  He’d fallen to his knees and he was rockin’ back and forth with his hands pressed against his head.  Pa fell to his knees beside my little brother.

“No,” he moaned softly.  “No, don’t shoot her?  No, no, no …”

“What is it, Joe?”  Pa said.  “What are you saying?”

“He shot her.  I saw him from the back door.  He killed Bess.”

“He’s lying!”  Corbin shouted.  “He’s the one who killed her.  I saw him with my own eyes.”

Joe stood to his feet.  He glared at Sam Corbin.  “You shoved me out the back door but you never shut the door.  You pulled a gun from under the counter and you shot your own sister!”

“Easy, son.”

“When you realized your mistake, you came after me and I ran.  You were gonna shoot me too, weren’t you?”

“NO!  I never shot anyone.  NO!”

“Where’d the bullet land, Joe?”  Adam asked.  “Did it hit the ground?”

“No, the wall … close to my head.  Where the wall juts out in back, there’s empty crates …”

“If there’s a bullet hole in that wall,” Adam said to Roy, “then my young brother’s telling the truth.”

“Come with me, Mr. Corbin.”

“Why?  That boy’s lying.  I didn’t kill anyone.”

“We’ll talk about that later.  Right now, I have to check Little Joe’s story.”

Roy escorted Sam Corbin to the cell Joe had occupied for the last few days.  I studied my little brother’s eyes before I clapped his shoulder and smiled.  His voice had changed.  His eyes were clear as glass, and he was standing tall and defiant.  Little Joe Cartwright was back.

“Little Joe?”

“What?”

“Is that you?”

“What’d you mean is that me?  Of course, it’s me.  Who else would I be?”

I glanced at Pa and Adam.  They’d seen it too.  The sparkle was back in Joe’s eyes.

“You remember?”  I said.  “Everything?”

Joe looked confused.  He looked up at Pa and then Adam.  “I just told you everything, didn’t I?”

“You sure did, little brother.”

Pa reached for Joe’s arm and pulled him to his chest.  Words needn’t be said, but Pa needed a minute just to hisself.  Adam and I respected that undeniable bond and we stood back and let them have their moment alone.  The weight had been lifted; the fear we’d all lived with for days was gone.  Joe remembered enough to put the right man behind bars and we would all ride home together.  Joe and Adam could ride side by side and we’d think nothin’ of it, and I had a feelin’ my brothers could sit in the same room from now on without a bit of worry.

“Adam,” Pa said.  “You and Hoss go with Roy and find that bullet hole.”

“We’d be glad to, Pa”

***

Sam Corbin was tried and convicted of killing his sister.  The whole nasty business came out during the court proceedings.  Without Joe’s testimony, Corbin would have left town and Joe would have stood in his place.  My innocent young brother would have faced the gallows for a crime he didn’t commit.

Halfway through the trial, Corbin broke down.  After men had agreed to testify that Bess didn’t much care who she was with, that she was nothin’ but—pardon my sayin’—a whore, he admitted he’d pulled the trigger.  I kinda felt sorry for the man.  He built a boomin’ business and he was proud of that fact but, in the end, he lost control of hisself and done the unthinkable.  He’d killed his own kin, and worst of all, he’d blamed an innocent man.

The four of us sat at the dining room table.  For the first time in days, Joe and Adam could sit in the same room, and we didn’t have to worry about Joe tearin’ Adam apart.  Although we’d told my little brother most of the story, we’d left out certain aspects.  Attackin’ Adam was one of them aspects.

“Pass the potatoes,” Adam said to Joe.

“Eat too much, Adam, you’ll founder your horse.”

“Worry about your own horse, and leave Sport up to me.”

“Just tellin’ you what I think.”

“Just forget it, little brother.  Don’t pester me about my horse when that two-toned nag of yours isn’t worth a hill of beans.”

“We don’t have to wait a year, big brother.  We can schedule a race right now.”

“That’s enough, boys,” Pa said.  “We’ll have no race talk at the table.”

I rolled my eyes.  Our lives was back to normal, and my brothers was at it again.

The End

8-2015