Life Is Never Dull With Little Brother Around

Joseph Francis Cartwright smiled to himself as he patrolled the premises. He had just thought of the perfect way to get even with his older brothers.

Laughing softly, he began to gather his ammunition, scouring the ground for just the right stones—not too big, not too small. In a matter of minutes, he had unearthed a dozen “perfect” specimens. Eyes alight with mischief, he crept under Hoss’ window and pinged one of the stones off the glass. It made a beautiful sound. He waited a few seconds and threw a second, then a third, and a fourth. On the seventh throw, a light went on in Big Brother’s room. Grinning, he hightailed it over to Adam’s window, and three stones later, that room lit up.

He then fled to the back and waited, listening as his brothers approached, one from each side of the house. When Adam’s footsteps, lighter and quicker than Hoss’, were almost upon him, he assumed an air of innocence.

“What are you two doing up at this time of night?” he asked as his brothers honed in on him.

“What are we doing up?” Adam sputtered.

“You know dang well why we’re up,” Hoss growled, scowling at him.

Joe looked from one to the other with a bewildered expression on his face. 

“And don’t pretend you don’t know what we’re talking about.”

“But you haven’t said what you’re doing up, older brother, so how could I possibly know?”

Hoss and Adam exchanged glances. Slowly, a devious smile spread across their faces.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Adam asked, nodding almost imperceptibly towards Joe.

  “Yep, think so,” Hoss answered, and quickly reached out and lifted his little brother off his feet. Smiling wickedly, he carried him back to the front of the house and held him above the water trough. 

“Wait a minute,” Adam cautioned.

Eyebrows raised Hoss glanced questioningly at his older brother.

“His gun,” Adam explained. 

“Right,” Hoss responded, and with his free hand, he unbuckled and removed the gun belt.

Seconds later, Joe hit the water with a splash, and his brothers, laughing, headed towards the house. 

“Your gun,” Adam mocked, taking the weapon from Hoss and laying it on the rocker. 

“Good-night, Little Brother,” Hoss added, and he and Adam strode inside. 

Joe, grumbling dire threats against his brothers, climbed out of the trough and squelched his way to the stoop. He retrieved his gun and reached out to open the door. It was locked. He knocked on the door. No one answered. He knocked harder, and still there was no answer. He frowned. He was soaked to the skin and uncomfortable. Glaring at the door, he knocked again, even louder. The house remained dark and quiet. Grimacing, he stomped towards the barn, grousing every step of the way. 

Striding inside, he looked around for something to dry himself with and found an old towel kept for wiping down the horses. He pulled it off the hook, took off his shirt, and towelled his upper body dry. He glanced down at his trousers, still sopping wet, and weighed the chances of anyone walking in on him at this time of night. Very low, nil, if he were in the hayloft, he decided and climbed up into the loft, stripped off his trousers, and finished drying himself.

  It was a warm night, and the soft breeze drifting in through the loft door felt good against his naked skin. Looking around, he found a comfortable spot, stretched out, and waited for his clothes to dry. He lay there relaxing, listening to the sounds of the night: crickets chirping, tree frogs croaking, an owl hooting, in the distance the howling of a wolf, and close to the barn, something moving. 

Joe sat up. Someone or something was out there, skulking around the barn. He sat listening, every sense on alert, but whatever it was, it had stopped moving. 

‘Something is still out there,’ he thought. ‘I can feel it in my gut.’

  Quietly, he got to his feet and padded over to the loft door, gun in hand. He peered out, scanning the area, but nothing seemed amiss. Then, just as he started to turn away, something moved in a dark corner near the wood pile. He turned back and stared into the shadows, alert and focussed, trying to make out what was out there. He waited and watched. Finally, the culprit stepped out of the shadows. Joe rolled his eyes and lowered his gun. It was the old barn cat prowling about, looking for mice. Chuckling softly, he returned to his niche and lay down. His eyes closed, and within minutes, he drifted off.

‘Sometimes I outdo myself,’ Mother Nature thought as she gazed down at the sleeping cowboy. She smiled softly and then called out to him, at first gently and then more urgently. As her call grew stronger, Joe’s eyes slowly opened. He lay still for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then rose and moseyed over to get his trousers. His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the empty space. He took a quick look around and grimaced.

  “My brothers, one of my brothers must have taken my clothes,” he grumbled.

As Mother Nature became more and more insistent, he strode over to the loft door and looked out. ‘At least no one’s up and wandering around,’ he thought, and hoping it stayed that way, he climbed down the ladder and slipped out the barn door.

He made it to the outhouse, modesty intact, and was on his way back when, suddenly, he stopped. Something wasn’t right. He looked around, inspecting every corner of the grounds, looking for movement, for shadows that didn’t belong, for anything out of the ordinary. His glance slid along the front of the house and stopped. He crept closer and checked out the porch and the front of the house. The door was slightly ajar. 

Cautiously, he stepped onto the stoop and slipped inside the house. He stopped short. Whispering was coming from somewhere near his father’s desk.  

‘A gun,’ he thought. He quickly glanced over at the credenza and breathed a sigh of relief. His father and brothers’ guns were still there. He crept over to the bureau and eased one of the weapons out of its holster. 

Carefully, he inched his way towards the intruders.

“Hold it right there,” he ordered. 

The bandits shot around and froze, stunned by the sight standing before them. 

“Place your guns on the floor, and gently kick them over here,” Joe prompted.

The two men, still flummoxed by the sight of a naked cowboy standing there, holding a gun on them, slid their weapons across the floor. Joe gave the guns an extra kick and then fired off a shot to rouse his father and brothers. 

“What’s going on down there?” Ben bellowed.

“We have a couple of intruders, sir,” Joe shouted back. Six feet hit the floor and pounded down the hall. But within moments, the footsteps stopped, and silence echoed through the house. Curious, Joe looked up. Three dumbfounded faces stared back at him. Joe bit the side of his lip, shrugged, and did the only thing he could think of. Head held high, he marched up to the landing, handed the gun to his father, and continued up to his bedroom. 

Five sets of bemused eyes followed him until he was out of sight.

Hoss glanced at his father, shook his head, and descended the stairs.

“What do you wanna do with these two, pa?” he asked, taking custody of the would-be robbers.

“Take them into Virginia City and hand them over to Sheriff Coffee. And take Joe with you. Roy will want a statement about the break-in. And Hoss, make sure he puts some clothes on.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hoss smiled. ‘One thing for sure,’ he thought, ‘life was never dull with Little Brother around.’