A Cowboy and His Pinto

by jfclover

Chapter 1

The final day of the drive proved to be one of the worst days of my life.  Rain poured early in the day, and by nightfall, we battled sleet and wind blowing down from the north.  We had our hats pulled low and bandanas wrapped around our faces, looking like bandits, but it was the only way to keep warm during the late-spring storm.

The drive had been a success.  After unloading our cattle into pens in Sacramento, Pa handed the drovers—Jimmy, Cass, and Mose—a bonus and thanked them for a job well done.  The three men were on their own now.  Whether they shot their wad in one night or made it last till the next job was their decision. 

Because our clothes were stiff with mud and sweat after weeks on the trail, Pa suggested we all have a bath and a shave before we filled our stomachs with something other than chuckwagon grub.  If I had to eat another tin plate of rabbit stew, I’d choose to never eat again.  A plate of fried chicken or a thick, juicy steak was on the menu for four hungry Cartwrights tonight.

My mouth watered at the thought, and I was the first to speak up.  “I’m for that, Pa. Tonight I could eat as much as Hoss!”

My brothers didn’t have the energy to do anything but follow my father and me to the hotel, check in, and order bucketloads of hot water.  The clerk didn’t seem pleased to see four foul-smelling men standing in his lobby, but he managed to remain cordial and do our bidding.

“Number sixteen, Mr. Cartwright.  Top of the stairs.”

After the high price we got for our cattle, my father didn’t hesitate to acquire the best suite in the best hotel Sacramento had to offer.  I was thrilled when Pa said he and I would share a room.  My brothers would share the other, and that’s when we saw Adam roll his eyes.  We both knew the reason why but said nothing.

Pa’s room had a tub, but the eldest members of the family got the first baths of the night.  Had it been any other hotel, the four of us would’ve all used the same tub and the same water.  Since we were living the high life, there’d be fresh water for Hoss and me when the other two finished.  We treated ourselves like kings!

After supper, Pa and Adam went back to our rooms, but Hoss and I weren’t quite ready to bed down like the old folks.  “We won’t be late, Pa.  Just a couple of beers at the Lucky Lady and we’ll come back to the rooms.”

“I’m trusting you to keep an eye on your young brother.”

“That ain’t always easy.”

“Just do as I ask, Hoss.”

“Yessir.”

Though I didn’t need a nursemaid, would my father ever think of me as a man rather than a boy?  At nineteen, I felt like I was owed that rite of passage, but Pa was Pa, and adulthood might never come for Little Joe Cartwright.

So much fancier than anything Virginia City had to offer, The Lucky Lady was a place where a man could enjoy an evening of drink, poker, and women.  After weeks on the trail, I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. 

“Come on, Brother.  Let’s get ourselves a beer.”

Hoss didn’t mess around when it came to food or drink.  He was a good man to have around, especially in a faraway town with a room full of strangers.  As we started for the bar, I noticed Jimmy and Mose sitting at a poker table in the middle of the room.  They couldn’t wait to spend their hard-earned wages.  In one night, they could lose everything, but they weren’t my problem. 

I looked around for Cass.  He and I had been friends for more than three years.  He’d been hired on as a drover on my first cattle drive, and when my brothers got tired of giving orders, Cass would jump in and show me the ropes.  Even though he was a couple of years older, we’d become good friends, but what gave my family pause was how much my new friend and I resembled each other.  Same brown hair.  Same weight and height.  We could’ve passed for brothers, and like my real brother, Hoss, Cass was a man you could count on.

When Jimmy spotted us, he tipped his hat but needed to keep his mind on his cards.  I didn’t know how much he or Mose had in the pot, and I didn’t much care.  I wasn’t in the mood for poker, and when Hoss and I were served mugs of beer, we headed for an empty table.

“Only you would choose a table next to the stairs.”

“Do you see another empty table, Big Brother?”

Hoss looked around.  “Guess not.”

“Okay then.  Quit complaining.”

“I ain’t complaining.”

“No?  Sounded like complaining to me.”

“Just drink your beer, Joseph.”

I followed my brother’s directions and then ordered two more.  It felt good to sit back and relax, listen to music, and wait for a pretty girl to walk down the stairs.  I wasn’t old, and I wasn’t blind.  A fine-looking young lady always gave me pleasure.  Hoss might say I was crazy, but I’d often caught him glancing in a barmaid’s direction.  He wasn’t blind either.

“Guess we ought to head back, Little Brother.”

“I suppose.”

I gulped the last of my beer, and that’s when I raised my eyes to watch the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen glide down the stairs.  Blonde.  Slim.  Gorgeous.  I couldn’t look away, and neither could Hoss.  The woman had our attention, and she knew it.  She smiled, and I smiled back.  I could’ve lived the rest of my life with a girl like her, but when all hell broke loose and a man flew across our table and sent it flying, the young lady hurried back up the stairs, leaving Hoss and me in the middle of a Sacramento fray.

I’d never know what started the fight, but the entire saloon was equal to a battleground.  Men’s fists flew through the air along with whiskey bottles and wooden chairs.  The floor became slick with spilled beer and bright-red blood, but letting  Hoss take the lead was the best decision I made in a long time.  Though I thought the sleet and wind had ruined my day, getting beat up and bruised by men I didn’t know or care about topped the weather situation by a mile.

I clapped Hoss on the back.  “Let’s get out of here.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.  Let’s go.”

By the time we got back to the room, our bruises and reddened knuckles stuck out like beacons of light in a storm.  Pa took one look at Hoss and me, and his hands flew to his hips, and he shook his head. 

“Well?”

“It weren’t our fault, Pa.  We was sitting peaceful-like drinking our beer when the whole saloon busted into an uproar.”

“Yeah, Pa.  We tried to sneak out, but we sort of got caught up in the middle.”

“You got caught up in the middle.’

My father liked to repeat things, but we were used to that.

“But Pa.  That’s exactly what happened.”

“Fine.  Get washed up and get to bed.  We’re starting home early in the morning.”

Hoss lumbered into his room, and I walked into mine to clean up, but going to sleep wasn’t the plan.  Even though I shared the room with my father, slipping out of the hotel was feasible.  I wanted to see that little blonde gal again, and if we were leaving tomorrow morning, tonight was my only chance to work a little magic.  Cattle drives were hard on Pa.  He wasn’t a young man anymore, and he fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow.  I had no trouble getting dressed and slipping out the hotel door.  Over the years, I’d learned a few things about sneaking out of a room.

The minute I walked through the batwings of the Lucky Lady, I spotted the barmaid and made my way up to the polished, wooden bar where she stood with her hand on her hip and a smile on her face.  The saloon had been put back together.  Tables had been righted and chairs set in place.  The crowd of rowdy men had either been thrown in jail or told to go home and sleep it off, and though I didn’t know which, I didn’t much care.  I only had eyes for the young lady.

Without a word, she swept the back of her fingers across my cheek, and using both hands, she caressed the nape of my neck.  And when I slid my right hand around her slim waist, I pulled her toward me until our hips were locked together.  A feeling of warmth spread between us and within moments, she had taken hold of my hand and led me up the stairs to her room.

I didn’t even know her name, but was it wrong to let a woman as sweet and young as this little blonde have her way with me, or was that a dream I believed to be true?  Would I take her in my arms and use her for my sensual pleasure like any healthy young man would do?  Did the reason even matter?

She led me to the side of the bed and then lowered the straps of her dress so I could enjoy the sight of her lovely, white breasts while she unbuttoned my shirt and trousers.  I was so aroused that I could barely let her accomplish the ritual she used on men who suited her fancy.  With her initial chores complete, I leaned in to kiss her on the lips, and that’s when interruption number two broke us apart.  Gunshots rang out through the open window of her second-floor room, and after leaving the woman behind, I fastened my trousers and looked through the glass panes to see what all the commotion was about.

Mud flew from the hooves of a fast-moving horse—a pinto—and the only other man I knew with a horse similar to mine was my friend, Cass Martin, but why would anyone be shooting at him?  I tried to make sense of the whole charade, but Cass was one of the good guys, not someone the sheriff should be firing a six-shooter toward.

Then came the shouts.  “Bank’s been robbed!  Bank’s been robbed!”

No way was my friend involved.  I had to tell Pa and Hoss and Adam, but then my escape from the hotel would surface, and I’d be in duck soup, but I had no choice.  I’d have to confess my sins to help Cass.  He’d do the same for me.  I knew he would.

Not only was my father waiting for my return, but in the dim light, I could see that his hair was mussed, and with his hands pressed against the arms of an overstuffed chair, he was ready to make war.  I closed the door behind me and stepped a bit closer to Pa. 

“There’s something we need to talk about.”

Pa stood and, with his hands on his hips, he towered over me.  “Yes, Joseph.  We have something to talk about.”

“No, not that.  I apologize for slipping out, but there’s something more important.  It’s about Cass Martin.”

“Cass?  Is he in cahoots with you?”  What was it this time?  Cards?  A pretty girl?  A bottle of whiskey?”

“No, Pa.  You need to listen.  Cass is in trouble.”

“Cass Martin.”

“Yes.  That’s what I need to talk about.  They think he robbed the bank.”

Pa’s demeanor had changed from a violent outburst to questioning my statement.  “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know it is, but that’s exactly what the sheriff and half the town were thinking when they tried to gun him down.”

“Dear God.”

“What’s going on out here?”  Both of my brothers stumbled out of their bedroom and moved toward the two of us.  “What’s this all about?”

“Sit down, Boys.  Seems there’s a problem concerning Cass Martin.”

“Ha!”  Hoss laughed.  “What’d he do?  Lose all his money in one night?”

“I’m afraid not.  I’ll order a pot of coffee while Joe explains what he saw.”

Chapter 2

There were a few hours left before daylight, and we took advantage of the soft beds and fresh linens before Pa had breakfast sent up, and we ate in the room.  So much for taking advantage of the swanky restaurant downstairs, but that was fine.  All of us were worried about Cass.

My father and I walked down to the jail to explain to the sheriff that Cass wasn’t their man.   Whether anyone gave a darn, we were giving my friend a character reference anyhow.  My friend wasn’t a bank robber. 

Pa sent Adam and Hoss to the livery to pick up the horses.  He still wanted to get an early start, and we would meet my brothers outside the jailhouse after we said our piece.  The sheriff had just poured himself a cup of coffee when Pa and I entered his office. 

“Mornin’,” he said.

“Good morning, Sheriff.  My son told me there was a bank robbery last night.”

“Yes, Sir.  Got away with over twenty-five thousand dollars.  May I ask your name?”

Pa extended his hand to the sheriff.  “Ben Cartwright and this is my son, Joseph.”

“Jack Galloway.  Glad to meet you folks, but I’m not sure why you’re here.”

“Joe tells me you were after a man on a pinto.”

“Yep, but we lost him.  Rounding up a posse this morning to find that ornery son-of-a-gun.”

“We think you’re making a mistake.  The boy you saw riding down the street last night is a friend of ours.  He worked as a drover on our drive from Virginia City, and he’s a good man.  He’s no bank robber, Sheriff.”

“My eyewitness begs to differ, Mr. Cartwright.”

Pa looked down at me.  He was at a loss, and so was I.  About the only thing we could do now was head home and hope that Cass beat us back to the Ponderosa.  We’d all have a good laugh if that were the case.  But if the posse gunned our friend down, we’d be burying a fine, young man, all because an eyewitness got it wrong.

“I hope that if you catch the man who did this horrible crime that you give him a fair trial.  That’s all I ask, Sheriff.”

We did what we could and left the jailhouse behind.  Hoss and Adam stood just past the boardwalk with our horses and enough supplies to see us home.  Pa and I mounted Buck and Cooch, but I noticed a pudgy little man with rounded glasses staring at the four of us before walking through the sheriff’s front door.  I shook off my unease, and we started down the street to the stage route that would take us home.  The odd little man gave me the willies. 

All of us had certain chores we did every time we stopped to make camp.  Hoss and I took care of the horses while Adam gathered wood for a fire, and Pa busied himself setting out enough food and tin plates for our noonday meal.   We worked well together, and not much was said during that time.  We tended to save our chatter for mealtime.

Hoss and I lay back on our saddles while Adam stoked the fire and Pa stirred a pot of bacon and beans.  We both crossed our legs and relaxed while we waited for supper to be served.  This kind of life suited me just fine.  Hoss too.  We had no complaints.

“Come on, Boys.  Your plates are ready.”

I’d nearly fallen asleep, but Pa’s voice was strong enough to wake the dead.  Hoss and I moved closer to the fire, and we were each handed a plate of beans and a cup of hot coffee.  I worried about Cass and hoped he was as far away from Sacramento as humanly possible, but what if he was already dead?  The posse had all morning to gun him down without a trial.  I’d heard what Pa said, but I didn’t think the sheriff was eager to heed my father’s words.

Adam began talking about all that needed doing after we returned home, but I didn’t understand why he couldn’t relax and let us finish the drive before he started in on next week’s chores.  The whole conversation seemed ridiculous to me, but I kept my mouth shut.

“Don’t anybody move.”

The four of us lowered our plates to our laps and turned toward the sound of the Sacramento sheriff.  We hadn’t heard the men ride into our camp, but the one pointing his gun was the big man we talked to before leaving town.  And then, from the shadows, the pudgy little man who stared at me earlier came to stand next to Galloway.

“That’s him, Sheriff.  That’s the man.”

“You’re sure?  You’re absolutely sure?”

“I’m sure, Jack.”

The two men standing behind the sheriff held rifles, and they were pointed in our direction.  Pa set his plate on the ground and stood the minute I’d been identified. 

“What’s this all about, Sheriff?”

“What kind of game are you playing, Cartwright?”

“Game?  What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I brought my eyewitness with me, and he assured me that the boy sitting next to you is the kid who robbed his bank.”

“That’s ridiculous, Sheriff.” 

“Not according to my eyewitness.  You see, Mr. Cartwright, Malcolm Sherry is the bank manager, and he was there when your boy robbed him at gunpoint.  Mr. Sherry is a thorough man.  He identified the horse first and then your boy.”

“My boy had nothing to do with the robbery, Sheriff.”

“I’m afraid the kid is coming back to Sacramento with me.  You’re welcome to hire an attorney.  We have several in town that would be willing to discuss the kid’s upcoming trial.”

“If I remember correctly, Sheriff, your eyewitness insisted that Cass Martin was the bank robber.  Not my boy, Joseph.”

“You have a point.  It wasn’t until Mr. Sherry saw your son this morning that he rectified his initial statement.”

“That’s just great, Sheriff.  First, it’s Cass and then it’s Joe.  You know that won’t hold up in a court of law.”

“That’s not for you to decide, Mr. Cartwright.  I’ve notified Judge Adams, and he’ll be available to hold court on the seventeenth, a week from Monday.  Don’t worry.  We’ll take good care of your boy.”

Chapter 3

It wasn’t a decision for Pa or me to make.  Sheriff Galloway shackled my wrists and had me mount Cochise.  My horse was evidence, too.  I left my family behind, and I didn’t turn in the saddle or say goodbye.  Seeing the looks on their faces was more than I could bear.  I wasn’t a bank robber, and neither was my friend Cass, but what was going on?  Who had the money?  Who was the guilty party?

My new quarters would be a jail cell, but I wasn’t certain what my family would do.  There was a ranch to run, and we’d already been away for three weeks.  Pa would have big decisions to make where the Ponderosa and I were concerned.

By the time we returned to Sacramento, I’d had time to think and to realize that if a lawyer didn’t use the right tactics, I’d be sentenced to at least ten years in the state penitentiary.   Whether I’d be able to do the time, I wasn’t sure.  Over the years, I’d heard about things that ruined a man.  None of the stories were good, and it would be no surprise to my family that I wouldn’t be the same Joe Cartwright who snuck out of the pricey hotel to see a pretty girl and ended up landing in jail accused of a crime he didn’t commit.

A north wind blew, and I pulled my hat lower on my forehead, but griping about the weather was the least of my worries.  When we pulled up outside the livery, Galloway called for a man named Ray to put the horses up. 

“Make sure the pinto gets your best stall and best care.  He had a hand in the bank robbery and may have to appear in court.”

The sheriff was a real barrel of laughs.  Cooch would never step foot inside a courtroom, but I’m glad he’d have a decent home for the next few weeks. 

The sheriff, his armed henchmen, and I took the boardwalk down to the jailhouse.  I wasn’t in much of a hurry, and one of the men prodded me along with his rifle.  Guess it made him feel important.  If I were the type that was used to hanging out in jail cells, maybe I wouldn’t be stalling, but I’d only spent a few nights in Roy Coffee’s jail after a night of boisterous carousing.  He never cuffed me and always offered an extra blanket.

After walking into the Sheriff’s office, I could feel my nerves begin to unravel.  Galloway excused his two henchmen and unlocked the shackles before tossing them on his desk.  With the irons removed, I rubbed my chaffed wrists, but something about my action irritated the sheriff, and he hauled off and shoved me across the room.  When I collided with an empty wooden chair next to the stove, I looked up at the hard-hearted sheriff.  “Hey!”

“Something wrong, Boy?”

“What was that all about?”

“You have a problem?”

“Yeah.  Why’d you knock me clear across the room?”

“Me?  I never touched you, Boy.”

Galloway hadn’t shown his true self to my father and me when we’d come by to talk about Cass, but there was a whole different side to the man when he had been alone, and it frightened me.  With no one watching my back, I was nothing more than a sitting duck.

“Let’s get you settled in, Joe Cartwright.”  I stood, brushed the dirt from the seat of my trousers, and walked toward the cells.  There were two, and I hesitated.  “Either is fine.”  I entered the cell on the left and studied the placement of the cot and empty bucket that sat in the far corner.  “Wrong choice, Sonny.”  He grabbed the back of my shirt with one hand and my belt with the other and dragged me backward out of the cell.  I tried to grab his arm, but it was no use, and he threw me face down into the other cell.  “This one will do just fine.  Enjoy your new home, Little Boy.”

After crawling up on the cot, I must have landed on my left shoulder when I fell because it hurt like hell.  I wouldn’t be doing any chores, and it wouldn’t take long to heal, but Galloway knew that.  He knew what he was doing.  Hurt the boy, but don’t let it show.  How many of the townsfolk knew about their elected sheriff?  Would they put up with him being a bully and treating his prisoners like the scum of the earth?  Of course, if they thought I had taken their hard-earned money, they’d prefer I were beaten to a pulp.

As the day wore on, I hoped to be fed or handed a cup of water, although neither came my way.  There was a pair of solid wooden doors between me and the outer office, and they’d been closed.  I’d been left alone to think and dream of the day all this bank business would be a thing of the past.

Darkness filled the room.  From a cloudy sky, no light from the moon showed through to my cell. I’d had nothing to eat or drink since breakfast, and after the long ride back to town, my stomach rumbled, and my mouth was as dry as dust.  The sheriff hadn’t been in to see me, but maybe that was a godsend.

Over the next two days, games were played.  Food and water were withheld, and when Galloway unlocked the cell door and stepped inside, I learned fast that he was a man who found pleasure in overpowering his prisoners.  A smack across the face or a punch to the gut.  He carried a baton and had hit me more than once behind the knees.  I didn’t fight back.  I was at the big man’s mercy.

“You need to behave, Boy.”

I looked up at the man standing over me.  If sitting on the cot with my elbows placed on my knees was misbehaving, then I was in for a long week’s worth of beatings.  Staring up at the sheriff must’ve set him off again, and he came at me though he wasn’t stupid.  He had done this before.  He knew where to hit his victims.  My bruises would never show. 

“Insolence doesn’t make me happy, Boy.” 

The baton crashed across my ribs, and when I fell onto the bed, his next pitch burst against the center of my back, then across my left hip.  I didn’t cry out, but perhaps I should have.  He enjoyed letting me know who was boss.

Being laid up for the rest of the night was nothing compared to what was to come.  Without water or food, by morning, I could barely lift my head off the mattress.  Though I wanted to jump off my cot and strangle the man, that wasn’t going to happen.  I knew better than to fight back,

I thought Pa would come or send one of my brothers to stay in town with me, but that hadn’t happened either.  Perhaps they’d all headed home and would only come back for the trial, but by the fourth day in the sheriff’s hell hole, I realized that no one was coming.  I didn’t have a lawyer.  I didn’t know anyone in all of Sacramento except my tormentor, Jack Galloway. 

The sheriff was determined to have his way.  He invented new games to play, but he needed assistants for his strategy to work.  I was to stay awake until Galloway decided I’d become pliable.  He enlisted his henchmen to carry out the deed.  Each man took an eight-hour shift and prodded me with the ever-present baton if my eyes began to close.  We played the game for two days.  Afterward, I was told I passed out and no one could wake me for several hours.  I couldn’t remember a thing, but by week’s end, I’d lost all sense of reason and hoped the henchmen would turn their pistols in my direction and pull their triggers.  Without the support of my family, I had no reason to go on.

“Having an eyewitness is enough to prove you guilty, Boy.”

I listened and began believing.

“Mr. Sherry is itching to testify in Judge Adams’ court.”

I could barely comprehend his words.  My eyelids were heavy, and my stomach had gravitated toward my backbone.  I couldn’t make sense of the sheriff’s words, and I tried.  God, how I tried. 

“He’s anxious to have the bank’s money returned.”

I patted my pockets.  “I don’t have any money, Sheriff.”

“The bank money, Son.  You need to return the money you stole from the bank.”

“The bank?”  I was too tired to think.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Boy.”

My head spun like a whirlwind.  “I’m sorry, but ….”

The sheriff unlocked the cell door and, after handing his henchman the dreaded baton, he stepped aside so the man could join me inside the cell.

“You know the routine, Boy.  Mr. Combs is here to keep you company.  He’ll do what it takes to keep you awake.”

The following morning, I confessed to robbing the Sacramento City Bank.

The sheriff’s tune had changed, and he was as friendly as a man could be.  Now that he had the right man behind bars, he was happy to be my friend.  That evening, I enjoyed a hot bath and a fine meal of roasted beef, potatoes, and gravy, and I ate as much as Hoss and Adam combined, but when I woke in the night, I knelt down on my knees and filled the cell’s bucket.

Chapter 4

“Got a surprise for you, Young Man.”  I held the near-empty plate on my lap but took time to look up at the sheriff.    “One of your kin’s here to see you.”

“Kin?”

“Yeah, a big one.”

“Hoss?”

“That’s the one.”

After squeezing passed the sheriff, my brother stood as big and tall as ever.  I dropped my plate on the cot and stood up to greet my kin.  “Hoss?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Little Brother.”  Hoss turned toward the sheriff.  “Mind if I step inside?”  Galloway unlocked the cell door, and my brother walked passed him and picked me up in a bear hug.  “Good to see you, Little Joe.  You okay?”

Though I tried not to break down, it had been a long time since I’d seen any of my family, and my brother’s presence overwhelmed me.  “It’s good to see you, Hoss.”

After the sheriff left the room and closed the door to the cells, we sat down on the cot, but Hoss hadn’t let go.  His arm remained across my shoulder, and he pulled me tight to him.

“That rotten excuse for a sheriff wouldn’t let me see you till today.”

“What?”

“I been here for a whole week, Little Brother, but this is the first day he let me come back to the cells.”

“I didn’t know you were here.”
“That was Galloway’s plan.  He wanted you to think we’d left you behind to rot in jail.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.  I’m fine.” 

“Pa rode home to get Hiram Wood and get you out of this place.  They should be here directly.”

I didn’t lift my head to meet my brother’s eyes.  I lied to Galloway so he’d leave me alone.  Could Mr. Wood turn my confession around?  Could he fix the mess I’d made?

Hoss stayed until the sheriff made him leave. I nearly broke down when he walked out of my cell and didn’t turn or wave goodbye.  Whether Galloway would let him visit me again was unknown.  The man was hard to read.  He was Mr. Nice Guy one minute and a brutal bully the next.  I never knew which character he’d choose to play.

I should’ve told my brother the truth, but I couldn’t spit it out.  Hoss would be disappointed in me if he thought my confession was true.  If he didn’t believe I robbed the bank, he’d hate me for lying to the sheriff.  Either way, I’d lose my brother, and just like Jack Galloway wanted, my family would leave me behind.

The case would be solved, and I’d spend several years in the penitentiary.  The sheriff would find a way to dismiss the stolen money and be awarded the town hero.  That was his plan.  He got his confession, but I had no money to return.

Chapter 5

After my confession, Hoss was allowed inside my cell daily.  I tried more than once to tell him the truth, but I couldn’t.  He thought Pa and Mr. Wood would be walking through the door any minute.  They’d sort things out, and we’d all go home.  I thought it was wishful thinking, but the next time the door to my cells opened, Pa and Hiram Wood stood just behind the sheriff.  Hoss had gone to get something to eat, and I stood to my feet and smiled at my father for the first time in more than ten days. 

“Open this door,” Pa demanded, and without a word either way, Galloway clicked the lock and let my father and our attorney inside.  He locked the door behind them and left the room.

“Son.”

“I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Oh, come on.  Didn’t Hoss fill you in?”

“Yeah, but not until yesterday.”

“What?”

Pa and I sat on the cot, and Hiram leaned against the iron bars listening to everything I had to say.  I let them know about Hoss and the length of time before Galloway let him into my cell.  The rest of the story would have to be told, but I wanted to enjoy the feeling of Pa sitting beside me for a few more minutes before I spilled the beans.

“I should’ve stayed and sent your brother to get Hiram.”

“It’s okay, Pa.  All’s well now.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Hiram and I have had plenty of time to discuss the case, and he’s already figured out the strategy he’ll use to have you released by the end of the day.”

I looked up at Mr. Wood and saw his smile fade when he grasped the look on my face.  “What’s the matter, Son?  Is there something I need to know?”

“Yes, Sir.  Yes, there is.”

“Joseph?”

“I’m sorry, Pa.”

“What happened, Son?”

I cradled my head in my hands.  The story I had to tell would upset the applecart and leave the elders who filled my cell with disbelief.  All of Mr. Wood’s hard work would be for naught, a big waste of time.  And Pa.  I could imagine his disappointment even before I began my story.

“Son?”

“I confessed, Pa.”

“To what?”

“To robbing the damn bank.”

“I don’t understand.  Why, Joe?  Why?”

I stood from the cot and moved to the far corner of the cell.  “I don’t know.  I was tired.  I was too ….”

“Too what?  Too tired?”

“No … yes.  Too tired.” 

My father looked up at Mr. Wood.  “Did you hear what they did to my boy?”

He hoped the attorney would have the answers he needed to hear, but that wouldn’t happen.  I sounded like an idiot.  My confession was a lie, but I couldn’t take it back.  I signed a paper, and Galloway said that made it real.  Pa stood from his seat on the cot.  I’d put him in a bad spot.  Mr. Wood, too.  How could I explain what I’d done without sounding like I’d lost my mind? 

“I’m sorry, Pa.”

An hour later, my father and Mr. Wood knew that I had snuck out of the hotel to meet the little blonde at the saloon, but that’s not what I told the sheriff, and the silence that followed my confession to bank robbery was unsettling.  It took time for Pa and my attorney to swallow everything I said.  My father looked dumbfounded, and Mr. Wood began pacing the tiny cell.  Maybe I should’ve spoken, but it seemed a big waste of time to say anything more on the subject.

“It’s obvious what happened here, Ben.  Your son was put through hell, and he had no choice but to lie about his whereabouts the night you and the boys spent here after the drive.”

“So what do we do now, Hiram?  I’m not letting my boy go to prison for something he didn’t do.”

Mr. Wood tapped his bottom lip with his forefinger.  He seemed to be mulling over the problem so he could come up with a good defense, but as soon as he spoke, I knew we were in trouble.

“We’re dealing with a crooked sheriff, Ben.  This will make our task at hand much more difficult  to prove.”

“What can I do, Hiram?  Tell me where to look for evidence that will prove Joe’s innocence?” 

“Let’s all get a good night’s sleep and start out fresh in the morning.”

“You’re right.  Go on, Hiram.  I’ll be along.” Pa waved me over, and the two of us sat back down on the cot.  “Don’t you worry, Son.  Hiram and I will figure things out.”

“How?  How’s that going to happen?  The whole town thinks I’m guilty.”

“I’m not sure, but between Hiram and Hoss and me, the only way you’ll leave this cell is on the back of Cochise headed for the Ponderosa.”

“I hope you’re right, Pa.”

“Stay strong, Joe.”

Chapter 6

Just after the sheriff took away my plate of cold beans, he let my brother inside my cell.  Though I was glad to see him, I figured Pa had told him the whole story, and I could barely look him in the eye.’’

“Hey, Little Brother.  Brought you a big slice of apple pie.”  We sat on the edge of the cot, hip to hip.  “It’s still warm.”

“Thanks, Hoss.  It has to be better than the food in this place.”

“You told me you had steak and potatoes and—”

“Once.  After my confession.  Galloway felt generous.  Don’t tell Pa.  He … he, you know.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Someone had wrapped the pie in a napkin, and they probably wanted it back.  After eating half of the savory delight, I wrapped it back in the checkered cloth.  “Thanks.  That was good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me what you’d done, Little Joe?” 

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you to hate me.”

Silence dogged both of us.  Neither of us knew what to say, so nothing was said.   I sat on my hands and stared at the years of grime that covered the cell floor.  My body ached.  It had nothing to do with Galloway.  I think it was the constant sound of wind and sleet that hammered the walls outside my open window. 

The cell wasn’t heated.  The stove sat next to the sheriff’s desk, and the heat didn’t reach through the iron bars where I’d been caged, but I didn’t complain.  I learned straight away who was boss, and I didn’t want to rock the boat and grumble about conditions that weren’t about to change.

“Ain’t you gonna finish your pie?”

“Sorry, Hoss.  You eat the rest.”  I handed the remains to my brother.

“You sick or something?”

I didn’t want to be a bother.  My family didn’t need more to worry about, and a pending illness didn’t have to go any farther than the jailhouse.  The sheriff had taken my jacket, gun belt, and hat.  He didn’t want trouble, but I was cold, and when Hoss left to go back to the hotel with Pa and Mr. Wood, I wrapped the threadbare blanket around me, but the thin scrap of material wouldn’t keep a rat warm, and I shivered.

The freezing wind continued throughout the night, and sleep wouldn’t come. I sat with my back against the wall, my knees to my chest, and the blanket wrapped around me.  I thought of Cass Martin and wondered if I’d gotten it all wrong.  I’d known him for years but damn it.  He wasn’t a bank robber, and neither was I. 

I fought to stop shivering.  My body ached, and I dropped my head to my knees, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread.  It liked to drive me mad, but having the cold seep into my bones was the worst.  When the sheriff walked toward me with a hot cup of coffee, I couldn’t get up off the cot.  My body had frozen in place, and any kind of drink or meal was out of the question.

“Sit up, Boy, if you want this coffee.”

Even though I tried to answer, the only thing of substance was a slight moan, which I doubt the sheriff heard.  And even though I was thirsty, I still couldn’t move.

“If that’s how you want to play the game, I’ll leave.”

Nothing about my condition was a game, but Galloway didn’t care enough to come inside the cell and check me out.  Fine.  Maybe Pa could accuse him of murder, and Mr. Wood would take the case.  I felt like hell and just wanted to die in peace. 

Two days passed, and only Galloway stepped through the double doors.  A food tray sat outside the cell, and if I wanted to feed myself, I had to lie on the floor and reach through the bars like a slithering snake.

My throat was raw, and I couldn’t eat, but the cup of water on the tray would do a great deal of good considering my current state.  I might never know why the sheriff had it in for me, but making my life miserable was part of the game he chose to play.

Stretching my arm across the filthy floor proved unsuccessful, and with heavy eyelids, I failed to care whether I drank or not.  Even sprawled on the cold, hard ground, my body gave in to sleep.  How long I slept didn’t matter.  I hurt all over, and I was ready to give up the ship, but hands, gentle and warm, lay against my cold frame.

My father sat on the edge of the cot, and Hoss stood directly behind him.  Had I dreamed that they were hovering, or had I died, and nothing else mattered?

“Joseph?”

Pa’s voice made everything real.  Maybe I wasn’t dead after all.  “Pa?”

“He’s coming around.”

“I know, Son.  I wasn’t sure if ….”

“I know.  I wasn’t either.”

I’d been left out of the conversation, and I didn’t know why.  It’s not like I wasn’t in the same room with Pa and Hoss, though they insisted on talking between themselves and leaving me out of the loop. And so I waited until I was asked to speak.

“That sheriff ought to be behind bars, not Little Joe.”

“Don’t worry, Hoss. Galloway will pay for this.”

“I just don’t understand a man who’d do this to another human being. It don’t make no sense.”

“Did Mr. Wood get off all right?”

“Yes. The Pinkerton agent got in this morning, and Hiram said he’d return as soon as he was needed.”

“Good. Then maybe we can get to the bottom of this.”

By the time I was coherent enough to know what was being said, I began to smile.  Without my father’s constant worry and persistence, I’d be a dead man.  When Galloway kept Hoss, Pa, and my attorney away from the cell, my father found the circuit judge who gave the good sheriff the dressing down he deserved.

Pa and Hoss found me lying on the cell floor with my left arm stretched through the bars and a food tray just out of reach.  I can only imagine how that set my father off, but I was gaining strength and beginning to feel human again.  I felt a hundred percent better and could add to the conversation without coughing until my lungs burned. 

The doctor had been and gone, and Pa would be leaving soon to meet with the Pinkerton man.  Hoss would remain and act as my bodyguard, which I needed more than anyone in town knew.  A corrupt sheriff never bodes well.  Someday, he’d pay for his crimes.

Chapter 7

James McKinnley sat inside my cell.  He lied to the sheriff; told him he was my new attorney and needed a word with his client.  I didn’t care for Galloway’s games, but McKinnley intrigued me.  He was the Pinkerton that Mr. Wood had hired, and he played his part well.

“May we have some privacy, Sheriff?”

“Certainly.”  Galloway closed the door behind him and left the two of us alone.

“You better make it fast, Mr. Detective.  The sheriff could return before we want him anywhere near us.”   

“You know him well, don’t you?”

“I wish I could say no, but he’s not the most delightful man to be around.”

The Pinkerton grinned but kept his thoughts to himself.  He rapid-fired several questions, then said he’d sent a wire to Cass Martin in Virginia City and asked him to come back to Sacramento. 

“Said you and he were good friends, and he’d do anything to help.”

I mulled that statement over in my head, and I’d make sure Pa compensated him for his time.  Cass wasn’t guilty, and after explaining what I’d seen the night I snuck out of the hotel—Cass riding down the main thoroughfare—the Pinkerton seemed to agree that neither Cass nor I were guilty of the crime.

He told me to call him James, and we formed an immediate friendship.  Even though he was closer to Adam’s age, our relationship proved genuine.  He was able to stay until all was said before he left me behind in the cell.  There were things he wanted to check out, and if he got his tail in gear, he might have answers before nightfall.  I liked James.  For the first time in a long time, I felt hopeful. 

I spent most of the afternoon with Hoss, and then my father brought me dinner.  Smiles and laughter followed, but Galloway’s face told a different story.  He wasn’t pleased with the sight of more than one Cartwright, and the sound of gaiety within the family didn’t sit well with the tough sheriff. 

The sound of laughter must’ve set him off in a way that made no sense to me.  When I heard the metal key turn in the iron lock, I froze.  I shouldn’t have visitors in the dead of night, but moments later, Galloway stood inches from my face.

“You never give up, do you, Boy.  You’re doomed for ten years of hard labor, yet you still haven’t taken imprisonment seriously.”

After throwing my legs over the side of the cot, I stood up and faced the sheriff.  “I didn’t rob your bank, and you know it.”

“Do I now?”

“My confession means nothing.  My attorney will see to that.”

“You’re an ornery little cuss, aren’t you?”

“If I have to be.”

“You don’t have to be anything, Cartwright.  Your time is up.  You’ve said your last words.”

Chapter 8

Darkness loomed, and the seat of my trousers was damp from the thin trickle of water that ran down the rock wall.  My arms had been hoisted above my head with iron chains drilled into jagged rock that served as a backrest.  I’d been left to die.  No water.  No food.  No way to relieve myself.  Is this how my life would end—alone?

I couldn’t see across the room … or the cave … or the deserted mine or wherever he’d taken me.  The location of my prison was a mystery, but I wouldn’t be around for long.  Without water, I wouldn’t last a week.

Had Galloway been listening in on all of our conversations?  Between Pa and Hoss and James, a lot had been said.  Had the sheriff decided I was too much of a risk to remain inside his jail?  James seemed to think that Galloway knew more than he was telling, that maybe he knew who the real bank robbers were, but why would he hold out on his town and accuse an outsider?  Questions were mounting, but the answers were slow in coming. 

I’m not sure how the sheriff would explain my disappearance when Pa or Hoss showed up.  My father wasn’t one to give up until he knew every detail of my untimely disappearance, though if I’d tried to escape and Galloway’s aim was true, there’d be a body to deal with, but that wasn’t the case.  I wasn’t lying dead in the middle of the street.  No, I was chained up like a wild animal and had no way to set myself free.

When the light from a lantern filled the room, I looked up to see Galloway standing in front of me.  He held a canteen in one hand and a lantern in the other.

“I see you’re still with us.”

“Where did you think I’d be?  Sitting in on a poker game?”

“Still the smart mouth.  You never give up, do you, Cartwright?”

“You’re learning, Sheriff.”

The man squatted down to my level and popped the canteen’s cork.  With my hands locked in place, I had to let Galloway hold the container to my lips so I could drink.  I wouldn’t let on how embarrassed I was to be so helpless, but I’m sure the big man was aware of my discomfort.

“That’s enough.  No need to be such a pig.”

The man never quit.  I wondered if he ever had a nice thing to say.  “There’s something you forgot, Sheriff.”

“What might that be?”

“I assume you told everyone in town that I escaped.  Am I right?”

“Good guess, Cartwright.”

“I’m not sure how I managed such a thing.  Did you forget to lock the cell, or did I overtake you when you brought me a meal?”

Galloway chuckled.  “You should write a book, Kid.  You have a vivid imagination.”

“I’m curious, Sheriff.  Why didn’t you shoot me down in the street after I busted out of your jail?”

“Don’t be funny, Cartwright.  I got that all figured out.”

“Good.  I’m glad you see it that way.”

“You don’t?”

“No.  How long do you plan to keep me alive?  One more day?  Two?  What did you tell my father and brother?  They aren’t the gullible type, you know.  They’ll keep asking questions until they know the whole story.”

Galloway corked the canteen and picked up the lantern.  “Everything’s been taken care of.  Don’t worry about things that don’t concern you.”

“Oh, but this does concern me, Sheriff, because in the whole scheme of things, I lose.”

Not long after Galloway left, I thought about the night he stood outside the bank with his six-shooter aimed at Cass Martin.  And then I wondered.  Was it really Cass I saw from the girl’s window?  For sure, I saw a pinto, but I wasn’t sure who was riding.  Why I didn’t think of that before, I don’t know, but if Cass was heading this way, James might be able to solve the mystery.

Though I had nothing to do but dream of better days, my mind began to slip into a state of confusion.  Three days or four?  Day or night?  I didn’t know what to think or how to feel, and the longer I was left alone, the crazier my thoughts became.

Galloway didn’t follow a schedule.  Did he come once a day, or once an hour, or was he ever coming back?  He couldn’t let anyone find me, so the sooner I died, the better off he’d be.  The official truth would be the lies he told the townsfolk.  My father would have no choice but to return home without his youngest son.  Even worse, the name Cartwright would be disgraced. 

Chapter 9

When my arms dropped to the ground, my head swam, and my body leaned to the left until a firm hand and a deep voice stopped me from falling onto the hard-packed floor.  A feeling of dread slipped into my consciousness, and I tried to fight off the intruder.  But I was weak and exhausted, and I was no match for the big man whose hands clutched both arms and set me up straight.

“Joseph.  Little Joe.  Let me help you.”

I tried to register the voice, but I was too tired to make the effort.  My tongue had crusted over, and my heart beat overtime.  When my head fell forward, giant hands slid under my legs and lifted me from the ground.  Another heartbeat pounded, and when I studied the rhythm, it didn’t match mine.  Was that a good thing?  Someone should tell me.  If I had the energy to ask, I could find the answer.

“Hang on, Boy.  I got you.”

After running the words over in my head—“I got you”—I wondered how much time would pass before Galloway dug my grave and disposed of me forever.  This was the last day of my life.  By nightfall, I’d be buried on the side of a mountain, and the sheriff’s truth would be gospel.

Chapter 10

I wasn’t dead, and I hadn’t been buried in an unmarked grave.  My family surrounded me inside the same plush hotel where I made the mistake of slipping out to meet up with a pretty girl.  Young and blonde and shapely.  Although I never learned her name, I remembered her well.

I was coherent enough to understand that Galloway and the odd little bank manager had been thrown inside the town jail by the territorial marshal.  Not only had Pa and Hoss put their money on James McKinnley, but Cass and Jimmy, and Mose had all ridden back to Sacramento from Virginia City to help resolve the problem.  I’d always counted on Cass Martin, but when Jimmy and Mose rode back with him, I felt honored.

Though I was pretty much back to normal, I still had nightmares that kept me awake at night.  I’d been looked upon as an easy target, an outsider, and the townsfolk were willing to take the sheriff’s word that Malcolm Sherry’s eyewitness account was good enough to imprison a man for ten years.

What Sherry and Galloway hadn’t counted on was the persistence of Ben Cartwright and the acumen of James McKinnley.  Between the two of them, they were pleased to say that the bank president and the town’s elected sheriff were in on the robbery together.  A two-way split would’ve made each man comfortable for a long, long time.

Cass was Galloway’s first choice for the thief, and when the sheriff’s bullet missed its mark and my friend got clean away, a new plan had been formed.  After Pa and I met with the sheriff to clear Cass Martin’s name, Cooch and I suited Galloway’s purpose, and that’s when the idea of hauling me back to his jail formed in his mind.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand.”

“What’s that, Son?”

“How’d you find me?”

Pa glanced up at Hoss, who stood at the foot of my bed.  “You want to tell him, Son?”

“It were as easy as pie, Joseph.  Me and your friend, James, kept a close eye on the sheriff, and when he mounted up and rode out of town, we followed.  When Galloway tied his horse and moved a tree branch from a large opening on a rocky hillside, we had him.  James made me wait outside while he followed Galloway deep into the mine.  That Pinkerton that Hiram Wood hired is good at what he does, Little Brother.  If it weren’t for him and his big ideas, you’d be a dead man by now.  We owe McKinnley a lot.

 “Anyway, it weren’t but five minutes before James walked out with the crooked sheriff.  ‘Go get your brother,’  he said, and handed me the lantern.  I raced into that mine, took off them chains, and carried you out.”

“I don’t remember a thing.”

“Don’t suppose you would.  You was pretty messed up.  You’d been inside the mine for more’n a week.”

“Did he feed you at all, Son?”

“No.  Sometimes he brought water, though.”

“Thank God for that.”

All along, I thought I’d been left to die, but maybe there was some good in Galloway after all.  He could’ve put a gun to my head and done me in.  Whatever the case, I was glad it was over, although the sad part was that I’d never learn the pretty girl’s name.  If luck holds, maybe we’ll meet up on the next drive.

“Hey, Pa?  How’s Cooch?”

“Your horse had better care than you did, Joe.”

“Good.  Let’s go home.”

“Not so fast, Son.  The doctor says two more days of food and water and bed rest.”

“But I feel fine, Pa.”

“Of course, you do, Joseph.”

The End

3-2025