Casa Blanca

by jfclover

A Story Told by Hoss and Joe

BOOK 1

Chapter 1 ~ Hoss

We worked hard over the last two weeks.  Pa and Adam studied tirelessly over a situation concerning water rights.   A newcomer—a brute of a man named Alec Carlson—bought land adjacent to the Ponderosa and two other ranchers—the Baldwins and the Morrisons—and had proved to be a difficult neighbor in every way.  He was a bully.  He wanted his way and was determined to change the route of a fast-flowing stream that benefitted the three long-established landowners.  A clash among strong-willed men was guaranteed, but that wasn’t the only problem we battled.

The spring drive to Sacramento had been a disappointment.  Cattle prices had bottomed out and after paying the drovers and wranglers who worked for us, Pa said our profit was so minimal that we needed something major to get the ranch up and running again, and winning the new timber contract was key to the Ponderosa’s survival.  But not tonight.  On this. particular evening, we’d dance the night away.

“You boys ready to go?”

“Coming, Pa.”

It weren’t like Little Joe to stay home on a Saturday night, but he’d come down with a bad cold and didn’t feel up to swinging a gal around the dancefloor at the Founder’s Day Ball.  Me and Adam already had plans to take the Matthew sisters, and it was too late to back out.  Besides, a night with a pretty young lady hooked on my arm didn’t happen every day of the week.

Although Pa hesitated to leave our little brother behind, Joe assured him he’d be fine.  All he planned to do was sleep, and Pa gave in to his wishes.  Nothing new, of course.  Joe had a way with our father that rarely failed.

*

“You boys ready to go home?”

Even though the dance was in full swing, Pa wanted to cut out early.  He didn’t have a date for the dance, and he wasn’t keen on riding home alone.   We couldn’t leave our young ladies stranded halfway through the festivities, but we didn’t make it a late night either.   Just before ten, we gathered our stabled horses from Orvis at the livery and started for home.  Although we’d all had a few cups of punch, none of us was too loopy to ride.  The clean, summer air felt good against my skin after nearly roasting to death inside Fred Dickerson’s barn.

Leaving Joe alone had left Pa in a keep-your-distance mood all night long.    With Hop Sing caring for a sick cousin in town, Pa was anxious to get home and rode two lengths ahead of Adam and me.  Neither of us said a word.  What good would it do?  Pa was on a mission, and nothing would slow him down.

And then it happened.  A rope had been strung between two trees and in the dead of night, there was no way Pa or his mount could’ve known what lay ahead.  Buck went down and Pa went down with him.   Fear hit me and Adam like an avalanche of fast-falling boulders, and we pulled Sport and Chubb up as fast as we could.  Buck was quick to stand, but our father wasn’t.

Adam got to Pa first, knelt on one knee, and cradled our father’s head with his right hand while he spoke in a voice that would only be used for broken men and small children.

“Pa.”

Even though our father’s eyes were glazed and he hadn’t moved, he found the will to speak.  “What happened?”

“Let’s not worry about that now.  Think you can stand up?”

“Yeah.  Give me a hand.”

We each took an arm and helped our pa to his feet.  Neither of us let go.  We didn’t know if something was out of kilter or not, but it didn’t take long before Pa came back to hisself.  He slapped our hands away and smacked at the dust that clung to his trousers.

“Quit your fussing.  I’m fine.” 

“Sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure.  Where’s my dang horse?”

Our father was in no mood for tomfoolery.  He was so anxious to get home to Joe that nothing, not even a trap to hurt one or all of us, would keep him from racing back to the house.  I didn’t know who the culprit was, but nothing would stop me from finding out who wanted us dead.

Both me and Adam noticed that Pa favored his right leg, but he never let on that anything was amiss.  Neither of us said a word.  It wasn’t the time or place, not when his mind was on Little Joe.  Later, we’d discuss any injuries our father suffered because of the fall.

Still brushing loose dirt from his trousers, he snatched the reins from my hand and dug his foot into Buck’s stirrup.  We both heard a painful grunt as he swung his leg over the saddle and landed with a hard thump.  We assumed nothing was broke, but we wouldn’t know anything until we got home, and Pa had a chance to make sure his youngest was still breathing.

“Let’s ride.”

Like obedient schoolboys, we followed in our father’s wake and hoped he’d learned a little something about charging down a dirt road at night.  Joe wasn’t that sick and a few minutes here or there shouldn’t matter.  After all, Pa would be the first to give us all a licking if we rode home like wild banshees.

After pulling up in front of the barn, Pa’s aches and pains were beginning to show and he was slow to dismount, but he shoved Buck’s reins into my hand and marched toward the house in a huff.  His pride had taken a hit, but he saved most of his energy for Joe.  I didn’t mean no disrespect, but I rolled my eyes at Adam before leading the horses into the barn.  Pa could have two broken legs, but he’d still find a way to check on Little Joe.

Adam scraped a match across the back of his leg and lit the lantern closest to the stalls.  I started to lead Chubby and Buck through the barn when—

“Adam!”

Our mounts were quickly forgotten as my brother and I dropped to our knees next to Joe.  The sight in front of me was as ghastly as I’d ever seen.  Our young brother had been stripped naked, beaten, flipped onto his stomach, and hogtied.  A brown leather belt had been looped around Joe’s neck and nailed into a wooden upright that held his head up off the ground.  His eyes were closed and before anything else was done, Adam felt for a pulse.

“He’s alive.  Let’s get him inside.”

While Adam cradled Joe’s head just like he’d done with Pa, I pulled a knife from my boot and cut the ropes that bound his hands and feet behind his back, and like a rag doll, his limbs fell to the ground with a thud. 

“Hurry, Hoss.  Get those nails out.”

If Adam hadn’t held our little brother’s head steady, he could’ve hanged hisself as soon as the belt came loose.  When I shifted my knees to get a better grip, I saw an empty bottle to my right and realized that’s why the barn reeked of whiskey.  It took all the strength I had to yank out the three long nails that attached the thick leather to the post. 

A pitiful-sounding cry came from my little brother when Adam eased him into my arms, and after the three of us made our way to the house and through the front door, Pa looked fit to be tied as he ran down the stairs.  Joe wasn’t in his bed, and Pa was madder’n a hornet.  But Pa’s eyes grew wide when he saw us come through the door. 

“What’s this?   What happened to Joe?”

“I don’t know, Pa, but he’s hurt bad.  Adam says he’s alive.”

Pa closed in on me and touched the side of Joe’s face.  “My, God.  Someone’s beat him half to death.”  Pa looked toward Adam.  “You better ride for the doc.”

“On my way.”

I carried Little Joe up the stairs and laid him on his bed.  I didn’t see hide or hair of my young brother’s clothes and wondered what the men who nearly killed him had done with his nightshirt and long johns.  It’s not something that’s generally stolen, but after seeing the condition my little brother was in, I could almost believe anything.

As soon as me and Pa pulled the blankets up over Joe, I began to wonder why they’d come.  Had anything else been taken?  What were these men after?  Surely, they didn’t ride out here to beat up a sick kid who couldn’t defend hisself in the state he was in.

“Why, Pa?”

My father stroked Joe’s cheek as gently as a whisper on a summer’s day.  “He’s just a boy, Hoss.  A boy.”

The anger I felt left me blind with rage, and I couldn’t find no comforting words for my pa.  There was plenty I could say, but it had no worthwhile meaning. Joe was a young’un, a seventeen-year-old that only a monster could do that much damage to and live with hisself after the fact.  “Guess I should go look around.  See if everything’s in place.”

“Good.  You do that, Son.  I didn’t have much money in the safe, but I don’t know if that’s what they were after or not.  Oh, and Hoss.  You better put some water on to boil.  We need to clean these cuts.”

“Yessir.  I won’t be but a minute.”

My brother lay on the barn floor for I don’t know how long, and it weren’t the best place to be with open wounds.  Me and Pa knew that, and the quicker we got him cleaned up, the better.  I’d seen Little Joe’s knuckles and it seemed that he gave as good as he got, but I got to think there was more than one man involved, and Joe, being off his feed, didn’t stand a chance of coming through on top.

With Hop Sing’s large copper pot on to boil, I set out to check the house for missing items like silver and cash.  At least, that’s what I’d take if I were a dad-blamed robber, but I found nothing missing.  The pillow had fallen off the settee and the bowl of apples had been upturned, but that’s the only damage I found.  Nothing else looked amiss, so I headed back upstairs with a few clean cloths and the pot of hot water.  As he sat on the edge of Joe’s bed, Pa used the few minutes he had to soothe Joe’s soul before giving my brother a good washing.

“Still not awake?”

“I’m afraid not.  The boy smells like whiskey.  What do you make of that?”

“I don’t rightly know, Pa, but there was an empty bottle in the barn.  Think them fellas poured whiskey down his throat?”

“I don’t know what to think.” Pa dipped the first clean cloth in the pan of water and started cleaning my brother’s face.  “Anything missing?”

“No, Sir, but it looks like Joe tried to fight them off downstairs.”

“I guess we know how that turned out.  It’s the reason they were here that I don’t understand.”

“Me neither, Pa.  It just don’t make no sense.”

Pa dabbed at the cuts on Joe’s face with such ease and confidence that I didn’t do nothing to interfere.   My father was an old pro at taking care of his boys.  He’d done it often enough.  When Joe’s eyelids began to flutter, Pa stopped treating the worst cuts and took hold of my little brother’s hand. 

“You’re safe now, Son.  Your brother and I are here with you.”

Joe wasn’t in any shape to talk.  It took everything he had just to open his eyes or should I say a single eye.  His left was so bruised and swollen, it didn’t open at all, and then it began.  The awful retching and helpless cries broke my heart.  I’d never seen a man so weak from sickness, but this time, it was the whiskey that had done him in.

Pa knew better than to make him go into all the details when he was that bad off, but he kept a steady pace of working at every cut until the kid was clean enough for Sunday meeting.

I moved toward the window and wondered how long it would take my brother to fetch the doc and get him out to the ranch.  It was a long ride, especially at night, and I didn’t envy Adam the trip to town and back.  We was all tired, and after seeing our pa fly off Buck … that’s when my mind started to dance in another direction.  Had the people who strung the rope across the road been the same men who beat my little brother within an inch of his life?

I turned toward my father and adjusted the wick of the China lamp.  “This all ties together, Pa.  You and Joe.  Your fall and Joe’s beating.”

Pa stopped dabbing one of Joe’s cuts and looked up.  “I think you’re right, Son, but why?  Who wants us dead?”

“I ain’t gotta clue, but I ain’t gonna sit here and wait for round two.  Me and Adam’s gonna find them fellas and—”

“Slow down.  You leave that up to Sheriff Coffee.  Tomorrow morning, I want you to ride in and tell him what happened.”

“But Pa …”

“Do as I say, Son.”

I never went against my father’s wishes, but I was ready to head out and find the culprits now, not in the morning when Roy had better things to do.   This was my family and two of them had been hurt at the hands of men without a conscience.  Men who disregarded life.  I didn’t want them coming back and trying again, and that’s just what would happen if they weren’t caught.  When they found out Pa and my brother were still alive, then what?

*

~ Joe

Sleep wouldn’t come and I ventured downstairs to the kitchen.  With Hop Sing gone, I had to fend for myself, but all I wanted was a tall glass of milk, and when someone banged on the front door, I stopped in my tracks and turned to see who was calling so late at night.  After opening the front door, two men I didn’t know stood under the beam of the front porch light. 

“Are you Little Joe Cartwright?”

“Yeah.  Why?  Who are you?”

After the first punch to my gut, my breath came in shallow gasps, but that was only the beginning.  “Hold him up, Zeke.”

The words shot out as I gasped for breath.  “Who … who are you?” 

The violence of the attack and the explosion of pain knocked me to my knees, but I was hauled back to my feet, and the blows to my midsection began again.  When I fell a second time, I curled into a fetal position although I was hauled up again and dragged across the yard and into the barn.

“Strip him naked and hogtie him.”

“He’s just a boy.  We can’t do nothing like that to a boy.”

“You heard me.”

“But—”

“You wanna be next?”

As I became lost in my captor’s harsh words and the leader’s brutal laughter, the chill of night air stormed my unprotected skin.  And when a bottle was forced to my lips, I turned my head to the side, but I was a fool to think I could mess with men who came to do harm.

“Hold the kid still.”

Grabbed by the chin, my head was turned upright and the neck of the bottle was forced inside my mouth.  Gulping and sputtering are all I remember before my mind began to betray me and everything became unclear.

After being tossed onto my stomach, I tried to settle the angry bile, but after swallowing bits of dirt and straw, I was too done-in to care.  My only thought that split through the pain was that I’d never have a chance to say goodbye to Pa and my brothers.

*

Chapter 2 ~ Hoss

“They’re here, Pa.  Paul and Adam’s here.”  I raced down the stairs and threw open the front door.  “Pa’s upstairs with Joe, Doc.”

After tying both horses’ reins to the hitchrail, Adam rushed across the front porch.  “How is he?”

“He ain’t woke up yet.  Pa’s cleaning him up some.”

My brother let out a sigh.  We was all baffled by the whole situation.  Were me and Adam next in line?  Could we protect ourselves better than Pa and Little Joe?

Joe was sick.  He’d been sick for two or three days before he was attacked and his body was weak.  He couldn’t have fought off a fly much less two or three tough hooligans. 

“Let’s go up.”

I nodded and followed my brother up the stairs where Doc already had his sleeves rolled up, his bag open, and was listening to Joe’s breathing.  Pa had moved from the edge of the bed to stand behind Paul, and while I stayed by the bedroom door, Adam moved in close.

“How is he?”

Doc didn’t answer, and Pa shook his head.  I didn’t like the sound of silence.  I needed reassurance that Joe would be okay.

Pa stepped away from Joe and Paul but as much as he tried to hide the pain from his tumble off Buck, the discomfort was noticeable. He motioned me and Adam close.  “I’ll stay up with Joe.  I want you two to get to bed and then ride to town early tomorrow morning.  Tell Roy everything you know.”

“Pa, you need to have Doc take a look at you too.”

“I will, Son.”

“Make sure you do.”

By six o’clock the next morning, me and Adam was on our way to Virginia City.  We didn’t take time for breakfast.  I wanted answers, and I promised Pa we’d check in with the sheriff first.

Roy asked all the proper questions.  “Did we have any enemies?  Did we know anyone in Virginia City who’d want to do us harm?”  And the answer was no.  We didn’t have a clue.  I thought about Alec Carlson and the water rights, but the man wasn’t that much of a brut.  Ornery, but not a boy beater.

Although we hadn’t woken the sheriff, it was early and he’d just sat down for his first cup of coffee when the two of us barged into his office.  We stood silently while he slipped on his vest and buckled his gun belt. 

“I’ll do some checking, Boys.  Someone’s bound to know something.”

“We’ll go with you.”

“No.  That won’t do.  You two go home.  Help Little Joe and your pa and let me do the footwork.”

I knew better than to argue with the sheriff.  He was as stubborn as Pa when it came to rules and regulations, and it would only make for bad feelings, but me and Adam weren’t done in town yet.  The best way to find things out was to hang out at a local saloon.  And we did.

“I’ll buy the first round,” I said and Adam was with me all the way.

Only a seasoned drunk would pick up a glass of beer this early in the day, but me and Adam had to look the part.  We didn’t have nothing else to do but wait for the chatter to begin, and we sipped slower’n molasses, slower than I ever drank before, but it could be a long while before the right men came into the saloon and started going on about their activities at the expense of the Cartwrights.  We were hopeful, maybe too optimistic for our own good, but we didn’t know what else to do.  We needed information.

I couldn’t help thinking about Joe and Pa, and I began to squirm in my seat.  Pa would live.  If he had any injuries, it seemed he’d only bruised his pride, nothing broken, but Joe was a different story.  I’d never seen such a messed-up human being.

“Something wrong?”

I almost forgot where I was and why I was there until my brother’s words grabbed my attention.  “Yeah.”

“Want to fill me in?”

“I’m scared, Adam.”

“Scared of what?”

“I ain’t so sure we’re doing the right thing.”

Adam set his beer down.  He was curious.  “Go on.”

“I’m afraid for Joe.  I’m scared he and Pa ain’t safe at the house alone.”

“Aren’t you bringing trouble where there isn’t any?”

“Maybe, maybe not.  Maybe I should ride home.”

“Go ahead.  It wouldn’t hurt to have one of us at the ranch.  I’ll hang around here and see if something pops up.”

“You ain’t mad, are you?”

“No.  Go on.  Get out of here.”

*

~ Joe

With another bottle of whiskey pressed to my lips, the men were having the time of their lives.  Laughter rang out every time the leader slapped my face or punched me in the gut, and even though the younger one wasn’t fond of beating up a kid, the jokes they made would make any man blush.

“Look at them pretty eyes, Zeke.  Bet the schoolgirls are all over this one.”

“Let’s go.  Let’s get out of here.”

“Oh, no.  We haven’t had any fun yet.”

My head ached, my vision clouded, and the world around me spun like a whirlwind.  I dropped my head to my chest.  I’d lost the strength to hold it in place, and I’d lost the strength to care about anything.  My mind was a flurry of nonsense, but the fist connecting with my jaw came fast and hard, and I could feel beads of sweat leave my body.  I was as done in as a man could be when my captor started running his mouth.

“You ready to talk now, Kid?”

“Talk?”

“Do I have to go through all this again?”  The man in charge pushed my head back against something hard and uneven and when my eyes shot open, he continued.  “Now that I have your attention.”

My stomach lurched in revolt as I glared at the two men who had squatted in front of me.  Orvis took hold of my chin.  I wasn’t in my room, lying on my bed.  I’d been tied to the trunk of a tree, and everywhere I looked were more and more trees. 

“Be sad to see all this timber burn to the ground, wouldn’t it, Kid?”

“What do you want from me.”  My throat ached and my stomach churned, and I hoped my captor would grant me the decency to end my life.  I’d never felt so sick and tired and ready to give up the ship before.

“Same thing I wanted yesterday, but you failed to hold up your end of the bargain.”

“The bargain?”  My mind was blank.  Why would I make a bargain with an outlaw?  Pa would have my hide if he found out I’d partnered up with men like these.  “I don’t understand.”

“We went through all this yesterday, Little Boy.  Are you dim or what?”

“I don’t remember much about—”

He jerked my head sideways again.  “If you don’t convince Papa to back off and let Jake Milton win that contract, there won’t be any trees left to cut.  You got it this time, Kid, or was my explanation too difficult for you tounderstand?” 

“Trees?”

“Yeah, Little Boy.”

The big man lifted my nightshirt and stared at me.  “Look what we got here.  Ain’t that a purty sight?”  After his idea of teasing failed to get a response, he ripped the soft cotton material up to my chest, jammed a gloved hand between my legs, and grabbed hold of my balls.  And when he twisted, I held back the tears, but I cried out. 

“What the hell do you want from me?”

“What’s that, Son?” 

I tried to move away from my tormenter, but since I’d been tied to a tree and his hand hadn’t moved, I was trapped.  Sweat trickled down the side of my face, and I couldn’t find the right words to say.  I don’t think I’d ever been so frightened in my life until he gave one more twist, and my cries echoed again through the forest.

“Why?”

“Trees burn to the ground, and little boys lose special parts of their bodies.  What would old man Cartwright say if all of his trees were gone, and his youngest boy didn’t have anything left between his legs?” 
 

I couldn’t think straight.  I could barely remember my own name.   With his hand still holding tight, I didn’t care about trees or anything but saving my manhood from being torn to shreds.

*

Chapter 3 ~ Hoss

After returning home from the saloon, I pulled the saddle from Chubb and hung a bag of oats for him to munch on then moved toward the house to check on my family.    It was nearly lunchtime, and I hoped to see Joe and Pa well enough to be sitting at Hop Sing’s table.  I could use a bite, and if my luck held out, Hop Sing’s cousin would be cured and a good meal would be waiting for me to sit down and enjoy.

“Hey, Pa.  I’m home.”  There was no return answer and, I didn’t smell a big juicy roast or an ample batch of fried chicken as I’d hoped for, so I gave up on the idea and headed up the stairs to check on Pa and Little Joe.

“Pa?  Pa?”

I realized Joe was probably sleeping and Pa would have my hide for yelling inside the house and after my outburst, I walked quietly through the hallway and into my brother’s room.  Nothing.  No one.

Again, I hollered.  “Pa?  Joe?”

An empty bedroom didn’t bode well.  Buck and Cochise stood in their stalls and it made no sense that Pa and Joe wouldn’t be inside the house recuperating.  Little Joe’s beating was less than twenty-four hours ago.  He wasn’t ready to be out and about, and I doubt my father was either.   When Paul Martin suggested he wrap Pa’s right ankle just in case, my father fussed but gave in to the doctor’s wishes. 

My heart beat a little faster than normal, and I let my eyes dart around for anything out of place.  Again, nothing had been touched.  Nothing but Joe and Pa.

After checking the bedrooms, I raced down the stairs and ran back to the barn where I’d found Joe yesterday.  Nothing.  I moved back to the house and walked into the kitchen to find our cook tied and gagged and sitting on the floor next to a cold stove.

“Hop Sing?  What the heck?”  I knelt on one knee and released the gag and the ropes from my friend’s wrists and ankles.  “What happened here?”

“Bad man hit Hop Sing on back of head.  Fall to floor.  Not know much after that.”

“You okay?  Can you get up?”

“Hop Sing fine.  Not know about Mr. Ben and Little Joe.”

I reached under both arms and helped the little man to his feet, got him to the chair, and seated next to his chopping block, which he leaned against after his ordeal.  To attack a man like Hop Sing was a sin in my book.  This bunch was out for blood, and I hoped they hadn’t gone too far to make a point.

“Hop Sing hear commotion but not know where noise come from.”

“They ain’t in the house or the barn, and I didn’t see no wagon tracks.  I ain’t sure where else to look.”

“If not in front of house, maybe in back of house.”

“Right.  That makes as much sense as anything.  Thanks, Hop Sing.”

I left our cook in the kitchen and took his advice.  The only thing behind the house was a newly dug outhouse and a winding little creek that ventured off the main stream that our idiot new neighbor wanted to re-route.  Not a chance that would happen.  Not with Pa and James Baldwin and Will Morrison stopping the fool with every law on the books.  But Alec Carlson.  Was he the man behind Joe’s beating and Pa’s run-in with the rope?  Were scare tactics how he got his way in this world?  Dang.  I wanted to run it by Adam and alert Roy Coffee that I knew who was behind the attack, but I had to find my family first.

“Joe!  Pa!”  I yelled as loud as I could and hoped for an answer but there was none.  Nothing but a hint of birdsong in the distance, and a family of chipmunks scrambling to get out of my way. 

“Little Joe?  Pa?”  My words were wasted on fowl and vermin until I heard a banging sound that didn’t make sense in an empty forest.  “Who’s there?”

It took me a minute but when I realized the sound had come from the outhouse, I darted in that direction, pulled the door open, and saw my father tied and gagged and sitting in a place no one wanted to spend a lot of time.

“Pa.  What on earth?”

I pulled the ragged cloth from my father’s mouth and words I’d never heard Pa say poured out like a heavy spring rain.  As soon as I had him untied—wrists and ankles both—he was up and out of the little structure faster than a man his age should move.

“Slow down, Pa.  We still got work to do?”

“What does that mean?”

“I ain’t found Little Joe yet.”  Pa’s hands flew to his hips, and I could nearly see steam flooding from his nostrils.  I ain’t never seen my father so mad.  “Any ideas?”

“Those damn idiots hauled me out of the house before they took your brother.  He could be anywhere.  I don’t  have a clue where to look.”

“Want me to saddle the horses?”

“Hoss … I don’t know what to do.  Your brother is sick.  Paul said he needed rest more than anything else, and I let those men take my son.”

“Don’t go blaming yourself.  That won’t do no one no good.”

“I’m sorry, Son.  I’m just so mad, I don’t know … I just don’t know.”

I stared into space hoping a bright idea would hit me, but nothing came.  Me and Pa were wasting time, but where would we go?  Where would we start looking for Little Joe?  Was my brother even alive?  We had no way of knowing. 

“Maybe they left a note.”

Pa seemed interested in my revelation.  “Let’s go.  It can’t hurt to look.”

At least we were doing something.  I couldn’t stand amongst a forest of towering pines and do nothing all afternoon.  At least we had a plan.  Maybe it would pan out and maybe it wouldn’t, but it beat hanging around doing nothing.

*

~ Joe

From a cloudless sky, the sun blazed, and the day grew warmer than usual for this time of year.  My tongue felt twice its normal size, and my head pounded so hard, I just wanted to lie down and forget about all that had happened.  The amount of whiskey they dumped down my throat softened the results of the beating until it didn’t, and every inch of my body ached and cried out for a soft bed and a few hours of rest.  The vomit that spewed down the front of my nightshirt made me want to hurl all over again.

Though the tree trunk didn’t offer much comfort, and with my arms pulled behind me and tied, there was no way to find a moment’s relief.  The only good thing to come of this was that everything between my legs was still intact.  I should’ve been thankful, but with my head still pounding and coughing my fool head off, exhaustion should’ve put me to sleep although that wasn’t the case.

I thought I heard voices although I wasn’t sure whether I was clearheaded or dreaming that my father had come searching the back woods for his youngest son.  Different sounds mingled and fought against each other until not much about my surroundings registered as they should, and I let my head rest against the rough bark.  I was low on choices. 

*

Chapter 4 ~ Hoss

I didn’t saddle the horses.  Which way would we ride?  Would we take the road to Virginia City or would we head south to Carson?  Was the kid in Reno or Genoa?  Me and Pa was at a loss, and it seemed foolish to ride just for the sake of riding so we remained on the ranch and when Hop Sing brought out a plate of sandwiches, we each had a hard time eating when we knew Little Joe was in trouble.

“I can’t sit here no longer, Pa.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“I gotta find him.  Why did they lock you in the outhouse?  Is there some hidden meaning or … I don’t know.  I’m trying to make sense of … for the life of me, Pa, there ain’t no rhyme or reason for any of this.”

“Sit down, Son.”

“I can’t.  I know who’s behind all this, and I’m set to ring his neck until he talks.”

Pa looked at me as though I’d lost my mind.  “You know?  How do you know?”

“Carlson, Pa.  It’s gotta be Alec Carlson.  Who else has it in for you?  Who else wants to break you down so you’ll hand over the water rights?”

“You don’t know for sure, Hoss.”

“But I do, Pa.  It’s him.  I swear it is.”

Pa took hold of my arm.  “Sit down, Son.  Let’s talk about this.”

“Joe may be dying and you want me to sit and talk?  No, Pa.  My little brother’s out there somewhere, and I’m going to find him.”

“Then go!”  Pa flung his arm toward the door.  “Go find your brother.”

“Yessir.  I won’t come home without him.”

But there were problems with my plan.  I didn’t know which way to go.

*

~ Joe

I began to shiver.  The night air wore me down even more than the whiskey or the beating.  The voices I thought I heard must’ve been a dream, a pleasant dream, but no one came, no one thought to look a few feet from the house for a man tied to a tree and unable to wriggle loose.  I’d pulled at my restraints so many times that my wrists had become raw and sore, but that was the least of my worries.

My feet and my hands had gone numb, and after sitting for so long, I wish I’d worn my long johns.  I tried to readjust my posture, but my balls were swollen and I couldn’t find a comfortable position.  Moving from one side to the other didn’t help, and the rope tying me to the tree held tight.  Any movement was less than a satisfactory solution.  Pa says never give up, but he doesn’t know how miserable my useless life has become.  That’s what the man told me. 

“You’re a useless kid,” he said the first time I tried to fight back.  “No one cares if you live or die so don’t play the hero.” 

Pa doesn’t know that I tried to make sense of it all.  He doesn’t know that I tried to be the man he taught me to be, but I was tired, too tired to fight, and too tired to care if I lived or died.

“One more thing, Little Boy.”  I tried to look at the man straight on, but with rain pelting my face and running down the front of my nightshirt, I had a hard time concentrating on his words.  “If you don’t stop your Papa from bidding on that contract, you’ll be a dead man.  Dead.  Heed my words, Little Joe.  As dead as the tree you’re hugging.”

*

Chapter 5 ~ Hoss

When I spotted Sport tied in front of the Silver Dollar, I pulled Chubb up next to the gelding and pushed through the batwing doors.  Adam sat at a corner table trying to look inconspicuous, but I could’ve found my brother anywhere.

I banged my hat against my leg.  It had started to rain, and there was nothing I hated worse than riding through a dang storm.  By the time we got home, me and Adam would be soaked to the skin. 

“Give me a beer, Sam.”  The heat of the day had been pushed aside by a cool night breeze, the beginning of a storm, and a huge drop in temperature.  I grabbed my beer, thanked the barkeep, and crossed the room to sit with my brother.  I wasn’t quite as inconspicuous as a regular-sized fella dressed in black.  No one was going to run their mouth after they saw me sitting in the saloon.  “Hear anything?”

“No, but I can’t put Alec Carlson out of my mind.  He has an agenda and a time frame, and our father is in his way.  No one else has reason to hurt Pa and Joe the way he does.”

“We think alike, Big Brother.  I told Pa the same thing.  Ain’t no one else as determined as that man to have his way.”

I downed my beer before I told Adam why I’d left the ranch.  I shouldn’t even be in town, but I couldn’t search for the kid by myself.  I needed help.  Before I finished my story about Joe being taken, and Pa’s unpleasant situation, Adam had grabbed his hat and bounced to his feet faster’n a jackrabbit.  The look on his face showed me that he was as scared as I was, and the two of us were at a loss.  Where the heck would we look?

“Did you tell Roy?”

“No.  Guess we should though.”

“How long’s he been gone?”

“Don’t rightly know … a few hours.”

“I don’t know how we’ll find him in the dark, but if he’s somewhere outside, he’s apt to freeze to death before dawn.”

*

~ Joe

My teeth began to chatter, and my body shivered with every blast of wind that sailed around the trunk of the tree.  My fingers were numb from trying to slip my hands through the ropes that kept me from leaving the hellhole my captor thought would be a glorious place to die.

No one would find me here.  Spring rains had thickened the low-growing scrub.  The trees were healthy and needed to be thinned, and if we won the contract, Pa said this area would be one of the first places we’d mark for cutting. 

“The trees are too thick this close to the house.  It’s becoming a fire hazard.”

My family could look for hours on end but no one would think to look behind the house, so close to home, but far enough away that death would come before anyone figured out my captors’ way of thinking.  An abandoned mine.  A wolf den or a bear cave would make more sense than this close to the main house.

My resolve was waning.  I was losing the battle.  I could feel the pain in my father’s heart when he discovered how close I was, and that would haunt him forever.  Not twenty feet from the house, but it was planned that way.  Just another nail added to my father’s coffin.

And just before dawn, it happened.  I heard a noise, twigs snapped,  and I called out as best I could.  With my throat as dry as a summer day, my voice cracked, but I was able to make enough sound that a body flew from behind my tree.

“Little Joe!  I find!  I find!”

I smiled up at the heavens as Hop Sing worked the knotted rope until my hands and feet were free, but I was deadweight and too weak to stand.

“I go.  I get help.”

*

Chapter 6 ~ Hoss

The three of us were dead asleep when Hop Sing screamed from the bottom of the stairs.  “I find!  I find!”

I heard Pa scolding him for making such a racket, but there must’ve been a reason for his behavior, and I had to know why.  I dressed, as did my brother, and we nearly collided in the hallway trying to find out what the commotion was all about.  After gaining our senses, that’s when Pa did a bit of his own hollering.

“Hoss!  Adam!”

“Comin’, Pa.”

“Hurry up.” 

Hop Sing had already shot out the front door.  Pa was on his heels, and we followed close behind.  I still didn’t know what all the yelling was about, but like little children without a voice of our own, me and Adam followed the others to the back side of the chicken coop and toward a cluster of pines.

There he was.  Tied to a dead tree, barefoot, clothed in a soaking-wet nightshirt with a smelly mess of sickness staining the ripped open front panel.  I almost blurted out words I’d never say in front of my father.  I held my tongue, leaned in, and picked up my young brother.

Pa nudged my shoulder.  “Let’s go.  Let’s get him warmed up.  Adam, you ride for Paul Martin.”

If my brother weren’t sick before tonight, he’d sure be done-in by now.  If he should survive a second round of Carlson’s wrath against my father, we’d be more grateful than any other men alive.  My little brother meant everything to this family.  He was so full of life that without his fiery temperament and boisterous laughter, we’d all be tempted to give up on living ourselves.  We were a family of four, and I aimed to make sure it stayed that way.

*

~ Joe

The storm had taken leaves from their branches and scattered them about the sodden earth.  Buckets of rain had darkened my dead tree and soaked what was left of my nightshirt, and after spending the night outside, my body ached.  I was chilled to the bone, and I shivered.   Every breath brought a sharp pain to my chest, and the pounding in my head was a constant.  Swallowing was difficult, and I needed water, but I was alive. I’d been found.  With Hoss’s arms holding me tight to his chest, I felt safe and knew I would heal.  Pa and my brothers never let me down.

*

Chapter 7 ~ Hoss

It weren’t no time before Joe’s fever soared.  Me and Pa had cocooned Little Joe in blankets, but I wondered if that had been the right thing to do.  The kid was burning up and his cough never seemed to end.  The cold compresses weren’t doing nothing to cool him down and it made me wonder if the doc had any magic powders that could help bring my little brother’s fever under control.  Men died from the fever, but not our Little Joe.  I’d never let that happen.

Doc came and went.  He wrapped Joe’s raw and bleeding wrists, and gave us a list of instructions, but there wasn’t much he could do but let the fever run its course.  I didn’t like them words, but Pa and Adam seemed to think like Doc.  Though he’d left a bottle of quinine, tears welled in Joe’s eyes every time Pa put a spoon to his lips.  It was awful tasting, and I understood why Joe carried on. 

“If it helps, you can mix the quinine with whiskey or brandy.  It might go down better that way.”

I remembered Doc’s words and I brought a bottle of whiskey up to Joe’s bedroom, but when my brother saw the label, he turned his head away.  I’d forgotten what them men had done to him, and it was a dumb move on my part.

“Sorry, Little Joe.  I weren’t thinking straight.”

*

~ Joe

Breathing became more of an effort; each breath became a struggle against the weight pressing hard against my chest, but the battle to breathe had transformed my way of life.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  Was it a battle I could win?  I remembered the doc’s words. 

“He’s a very sick boy, Ben, but I’ll do my best to keep him alive.”

Paul’s words hit me hard.  “Keep him alive?”  How sick was I?  Did he know I would die but was afraid to tell Pa the truth?

I hated lying in bed, and the only connection I had to the rest of the world was an open window.  Clouds floated by, and birds that had time to give me their best tune were much appreciated.  But today was different.  Gloomy and cold.  Gray clouds scudded across an angry sky and left me wishing I could crawl under the covers and never come out.  Days like this were becoming more frequent than not.  I felt myself wasting away, like a log charred by fire where nothing but ash was left behind. When my father popped his head inside my room, I turned in his direction. 

“Can I get you anything, Son?  Coffee?  Milk?”

“I’m fine, Pa.”

“I’ll bring lunch up soon.”

“Okay.”

My family visited often, and each offered a reassuring smile.  Paul was in and out although my sickness was all-consuming, and anything he tried seemed a waste of time.  The cures the doctor offered ranged from every remedy the medical periodicals had come up with except for bloodletting, something Doc thought should be outlawed.  Nothing seemed to do the trick, but he gave it his best shot.

Adam brought books to my room, but my interest didn’t fall along the same lines as his. Shakespeare and Milton weren’t my favorites, and when my brother recognized the problem, he grudgingly spent fifty cents on five dime novels and tossed them on top of my covers.

“Thought you might like these instead.”

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, but I couldn’t do either without having a coughing fit.  I nodded my thanks instead.

*

Chapter 8 ~ Hoss

Roy said he’d ride over to Carlson’s ranch and question the man, but me and Adam knew he’d get nowhere tiptoeing around a bully with an agenda.   Had the newcomer brought harm to the Baldwins or the Morrisons?  They were just as involved as we were over the natural forks in the river.  If any of that changed, all three homesteads would be in dire straits.

Not only did Pa worry about Carlson and his henchmen, but he also had a timber contract to bid on and win if we planned to keep the ranch in proper running order.  Me and Adam checked on our new herd religiously.  We had a slew of little calves—and a few sets of twins—that needed our attention all the time.  Without Joe doing some of the work, my brother and I were tuckered by the end of the day.

If I tried to put ranch business aside, there were personal problems that plagued our family.  Joe was improving, but Doc was cautious about letting him out of bed.  The kid had lost weight and looked more like a child than a young’un of seventeen.  It worried me to think how long it would take before he fully recovered.  Little Joe prided hisself on his looks and his entry into manhood.  He was eager to be a real ranch hand, a real working cowboy.  Them were his words.  According to Joe, he wasn’t a man until he could leave his schooling behind and work a ten-hour day along with his brothers.

*

~ Joe

“Eat, drink, and remain hopeful.”

“I’m trying my best, Doc.”

“I know it’s hard, Son, and I sympathize.”

I stared at the four walls that surrounded me and noticed things that were not essential before but bothered me now.  The rough-edged walls needed a new coat of whitewash.  How long had it been?  Were we neglecting the place we called home, our haven from the world around us, but the world had invaded without asking.  The outside world had brought harm.

 As sunlight filtered through my window, I woke with a lighter feeling.  The air around me smelled sweet and refreshing.  The air that had once been my enemy felt like a friend, and from that day on, I breathed more comfortably, but I was still bedridden.  No going downstairs to lay on the settee.  No dining with the family.

“Not just yet,” Doc said.  “Let’s give it a couple more days.” 

Although my patience had grown thin, did I really have the energy to climb out of bed and get dressed?  I tried to picture myself walking down the stairs, feeling each wooden plank on the ball of each bare foot, but it seemed like a monumental task, and I might fail to accomplish the simplest jobs that were expected of a boy my age.  I wasn’t a baby who hadn’t learned how to crawl, I was nearly a man and as fearless as anyone, but I wasn’t the same Joe Cartwright as before.  I was a weakling, and I spent day after day with my covers pulled to my chin.

For years, I dreamt of the day I’d ride out with my brothers after Pa explained the day’s task.  We’d finish our breakfast, saddle our mounts, and ride out to the job of the day.  Maybe we’d check the herd or repair the fences.  Maybe fill line shacks or break a few broncs.  Would that ever be the case for me?  I had a hard time even picturing myself in the saddle much less riding or roping or carrying on like a true ranch hand.  My dreams of a future seemed void of purpose and as empty as a dry well.

*

Chapter 9 ~ Hoss

Today was the day.  Joseph was given the okay to come downstairs, but it was hard to tell how he felt about the situation.  After weeks in bed, I thought he’d be thrilled with the doctor’s words, but he didn’t react like any of us thought he would.  He seemed a bit melancholy, not a word I used daily but a word I’d heard Doc use to describe my young brother’s mood.

“What’s that mean, Doc?”

“It’s a feeling of sadness, Hoss.”

“So, you think my little brother is sad?”

“I believe he wants to make up for lost time, but he’s going to be weak and unable to do the things he wants to do.  I think Joe realizes what’s ahead of him and the road won’t be easy.  His muscles have atrophied, which means he needs to be patient and try to build his body back up to what it was before.  He’s lost weight, and you and I know that Joe didn’t need to lose a pound, much less ten or more.  He’s skin and bones.  His face is sullen and gray, and all that added together could bring on a mild case of melancholy.” 

“What can we do to help?  I was speaking for the whole family, but Paul knew that already.  We’d all have to work together to get Little Joe back on track.

“Keep him busy.  Don’t leave him alone for long periods and try to keep his spirits up but remember, there’s no overnight cure.  It took a couple of  weeks for Joe to slip into this condition, and it will take the same amount of time for a full recovery.”

“We’ll do it, Doc.  We’ll get him back to his old self in no time.”

When I woke the following morning, I had all the confidence in the world that Paul Martin was wrong, that it wouldn’t take as many weeks as he predicted.  Me and Pa and Adam would all work with Joe and help him on his journey back to full strength. 

I convinced the family that I wanted first crack at my young brother. Though it wasn’t a major decision—Pa and Adam were fine with my request—and I was glad there’d been no fuss.  I’d treated damaged animals my whole life, and that’s how I thought of Little Joe—damaged.  Paul Martin had me thinking about that melancholy business more than I should, but I could see Little Joe falling into that trap.  Even before he got sick, he was always trying to measure up, never thought he was good enough, but I would change all that.  There was no reason for him to feel that way. After I downed my breakfast, I climbed the stairs with a hot mug of coffee and found Joe awake but still lying in bed like he had for the past couple of weeks.

“Time to rise and shine, Little Brother.”

*

~ Joe

I didn’t want to disappoint my brother or the rest of my family, but I didn’t have the strength to do much of anything.  After Hoss led me to the settee, that was it for the day.  No walking to the barn.  No saddling and riding Cochise through green meadows or along a fast-running stream.  I was too done in.  The day’s activities ended at nine o’clock that morning.

God knows I didn’t want to feel this way, but every step I took was more agonizing than the one before.  I nearly cried out, but if Hoss knew what a feeble waste of a man I was, I’d never live it down.  I’d be the laughingstock of the family.

As days passed I did everything Hoss asked.  I sat on the settee and then on the porch.  I walked to the barn and polished my saddle until it shined like Mary Ellen Baker’s coal-black hair, but I was so tired that all I wanted to do was crawl back under my covers and sleep till the end of the year.  I hated my life.  I hated being treated like a boy who couldn’t do for himself.  I hated everything about everything.

“Where did Pa and Adam go so early this morning.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Is there something wrong with the question?”

“No, not at all.  They rode in to deliver the bid on that timber contract.”

“Timber contract?”

“Yeah.  The project that will keep us afloat next winter.  We gotta win that contract.”

“Wait.”  I rubbed my fist against my forehead trying to remember, but talking about timber contracts made my head throb.

“Something wrong, Little Brother?”

“Yeah, but …”

“But what?”

“It’s not important.”

“Is it about the bid?”

“Um, no.  Not really.”

“Pa’s worried, but that don’t mean you need to fret none.  Adam assured him the bid was fair and honest and there was no reason it shouldn’t be accepted.  Hopefully, by the end of the week, we’ll be celebrating.”

*

Chapter 10 ~ Hoss

The following morning, Joe said he didn’t feel well and didn’t think he could complete any chores I had in mind.  “We could sit on the porch, maybe even eat breakfast out there.”

“Not today, Hoss.  I can’t do more than this coffee.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.  Maybe later I’ll ….”

“Yeah.  Maybe later.”

*

~ Joe

They came into the house twice before, and they would come into the house again.  I wasn’t safe in my own home, and I had to get away, somewhere, anywhere.  I heard what Jake Milton’s henchmen had said.  If Pa submitted a bid, I was a dead man, but I wasn’t ready to die.  My family would be disappointed to know that the youngest member of the family was a coward, but that was the truth.  I couldn’t take another beating, and I didn’t plan on being dead before I had the chance to see what my life would become.  I wasn’t a kid, but I felt like one, a scared little child who was afraid of his own shadow.

*

Chapter 11 ~ Hoss

Halfway through breakfast, Pa gave us that look that meant business.  “I want you boys to give up the thought that Alec Carlson was involved with Joe’s injuries or the rope in the road.”

“But, Pa.”

“Let me finish, Hoss.”

“I spoke at length with Roy and he assured me that the man had nothing to do with any of the unfortunate events that took place here.”

Though I was skeptical, I think Adam was too, but Pa had the last say on the subject.  He was the boss, and we rarely disobeyed the boss.  The question was who.  If it weren’t Carlson, who else wanted to hurt Ben Cartwright or his youngest kid?  It made no sense.  Little Joe didn’t have any enemies and even if he did, no other boy his age would’ve survived the trauma Joe had been through. 

Adam and I set to ride out. I’d had my week with Joe, and it was Pa’s turn to find things the kid could do that wouldn’t tire him out before noon. Joe was still asleep, and Pa said he’d wake him after we were on our way.  The boy didn’t need any more distractions than was necessary.  He couldn’t ride out with us anyway.  Checking line shacks was way too hard for Joe right now.  That was a few months down the road.

Book 2

A Change of Scenery

Chapter 1 ~ Joe

As the hawk soared across the face of the sun, I guessed it was the last time I’d see a sunrise or a bird of any kind before I died. My lungs had gone raw, and the heat of the high desert had burned me inside and out. I crawled across the dry, cracked ground for most of the morning, and I was growing too weary to carry on.  Without food or water, I was doomed to death from starvation or dehydration, a new word my big brother had talked about when I was sicker than a dog.

“You need to drink, Little Joe.  Doc Martin worries about dehydration.”

 I’m not sure why I remembered the word, but it stuck in my mind like most of the words Adam said aloud.  Even though this was the doctor speaking through my brother, I will think of Adam every time I hear the funny-sounding word.

Ragged holes wore through the knees of my trousers, but it had been my choice to leave. With the timber contract sealed and delivered, according to Jake Milton’s henchmen, I was a dead man, and my family didn’t need the constant worry.  Leaving the Ponderosa was the best decision I could make.

I shed my jacket when the sun hit its zenith—another Big Brother word—on its daily climb to the top of the sky.  Tonight I would curse my stupidity but at the time, I had no choice if I didn’t want to die of heatstroke.   

Sharp-edged rocks cut and bruised the palms of my hands, but if I were to find shade or a place to lay down and rest, I could live with roughed-up hands and knees.  That was the least of my worries.  I would die of thirst long before I died of cut-up hands.

Most of my recall was fuzzy although I remember the rented mount rearing when he caught sight of a rattler, his front feet high off the ground.  After pitching me out of the saddle, I wasn’t able to stop myself from skidding down a rocky ravine until I reached the bottom of the gully.  I laid out in the open for hours.  Day turned into night and when the sun rose the following morning, I didn’t have the strength to go on.

When I tried to stand, something felt wrong with my left ankle.  It wouldn’t support my weight and crawling up the ravine seemed like way too much trouble. I was tired and hungry and although Cooch might’ve stayed with me, the rental had run off with my canteen.  There should’ve been water at the bottom of the canyon, but even though the grass was tinged with green, there was no running water to be found.

*

Chapter 2

She was unlike any other woman I’d known.  She was rough and rugged and larger than most, and with her feet propped up on the front of the driver’s box, she slapped the reins like a man, reins that had been looped through beefy fingers and the strength that many women didn’t possess.  After being hauled up from the ground, I began to investigate my surroundings as soon as she slung me over the lowered tailgate and dropped me onto a gray-striped mattress in the bed of her wagon.

“Hey!  What the heck?”

“Just you settle down.  This is for the best, Boy.”

She was a traveler, maybe a gypsy, with a child that sat next to her on the wooden seat.  I didn’t have the strength to call out, and so I curled into a tight ball.  I’d let her carry me off and if I was lucky, she’d feed and water me until I felt like a man again.  Perhaps she would tend my ankle, and I be ready to start home on my own.

I’d made a foolish mistake.  Leaving home because Pa put a bid in for Ponderosa timber was just plain stupid.  Perhaps my family could’ve protected me this time, and seeing how I still didn’t have my strength back, I didn’t want the woman or her son to know I wasn’t long for this world. I didn’t want her to feel any blame for my death.

The road didn’t care that I wanted to sleep and when rocks and uneven ground nearly shattered the wooden wheels, I woke but dared not move.  The woman had been gracious enough to save me from dying alone, and I didn’t want to make matters worse by presenting myself as a helpless creature she had to care for when she had other things to do, but I had to pee, and I didn’t know how long it might be until her arms needed a rest from the taut reins.  I knew how hard it was to keep a team in line, and it had to be twice as punishing for a woman.

But this woman was a brute, and it seemed like hours before she pulled the wagon off the rutted road and into a small clearing with two large shade trees.  The wagon swayed when she stepped on the wheel and lowered herself to the ground.  Just as she grabbed for the youngster on the seat, I sat up and began scooting to the edge of the mattress and waited for her to open the tailgate, but that didn’t happen.  She sent the child off to gather firewood while she tended the two horses and guided them toward a creek that flowed just down a small embankment. 

It was up to me to get out of the wagon, find a bit of privacy, and get the job done before I embarrassed myself, but the woman came from around the side of the wagon and took hold of my right arm. 

“Come on, Son.  Let’s get you settled in.  You ain’t in no shape to be wandering around by yourself.”  When she tried to guide me toward the circle of rocks she’d built to contain her campfire, I motioned toward the trees and she was quick to catch on.  “Do you need help?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Even with the uncertainty of my swollen ankle, I wasn’t about to let a stranger help me with my personal business.  I had a little pride left, and I managed to lean against a tall cottonwood and get the job done.  A few feet away stood the woman, waiting.  And when I finished, she tucked my hand through the crook of her arm and guided me toward the campfire she’d lit while I completed my business.  Maybe she knew I’d been sick, but she was kind enough not to point out the obvious. 

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.  You gotta name, Boy?”

“Joe, Ma’am.  My name’s Joe.”

“That’s a good solid name.  Short for Joseph?  Am I right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Like Joseph from the bible.”

“I guess it could be.”

“You can’t go wrong with a strong biblical name.  Remember that, Son.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The woman helped me to the ground where I leaned back against a fallen limb that was sturdy enough to hold my weight.  I pulled my left knee toward my chest and tried to rub away the pain in my ankle, but the old woman didn’t miss a beat and when she stepped forward with strips of torn cloth, she kneeled in front of me.

“Pull that boot off, Joe, and let me tend that ankle.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

After removing my boot, she yanked the sock off and began twisting my foot until I yelped, and she stopped.  “Don’t think it’s broke.”  Ragged breathing prevented me from answering, but my thoughts weren’t necessary anyway.    “Hold that leg up.”

I did as she asked, and she wrapped the torn rags so tight I wanted to yelp again.  Instead, I closed my eyes and let her fix me up as good as she could.

“Thanks.”

Her boy didn’t come and watch the proceedings.  He was a quiet kid, maybe too shy for his own good.  Resting his elbows on his knees and cupping his chin with both hands, he looked about ten or twelve.  We both watched the woman stir something in an iron pot she’d sat directly into the bed of hot coals and if he was as hungry as I was, neither of us cared what she was cooking as long as it was ready soon.

“You boys hungry?”  She didn’t look up, but I believe she expected an answer.

“Yes, Ma’am,” we said in unison.

By the time she served up three tin plates of beans and bacon, the sun had set behind the mountains, and the final glow of daylight began to fade into night.  I would sleep with the woman and boy and then take off on my own at morning light.  I didn’t want to be a burden, and I needed to start for home before my family came searching.

*

Chapter 3 ~ Hoss

Adam and I had marched straight back to the house when we noticed Joe’s horse was gone.  He’d ridden off sometime in the night.  His bed had never been slept in, and a set of clothes and his boots was gone from sight.  We checked all of Joe’s local haunts that day and had come up with nothing.

Me and Adam will saddle up and ride out in the morning, Pa.”

“Slow down, Son.”

“You mean we ain’t gonna—”

“I mean we should have a plan before we leave the house.”

“Oh, right.  Good thinking.”

“I’ll ride back to town and inform Roy Coffee.  You ride toward Carson, and why don’t you head west, Adam.  One of us is bound to stumble upon a sign of some sort.”

“How long are we gonna look?”

“We’ll meet back here at suppertime.”

After saddling our mounts, we all took off in different directions.  I rode down the mountain toward Carson City but at a slower pace than normal.  Any sign of Joe would be hard to find, but maybe one of us would be lucky.

*

~ Joe

I’d been gone all night, all day, and all night again.  My family would be furious, but I had no choice.  I thought the contract had sealed my fate, and my rented mount didn’t mean to stumble.  Rattlers scare everyone.  When my family found Cooch at the livery, they’d hear the whole story from Jimmy, the boy in charge.

As I gathered my things, a loud voice stopped me in my tracks.  “Stay put, Young Man.  There ain’t no sense running off with a bum ankle.  You wouldn’t get a mile down the road.”

“I don’t want to be a burden, Ma’am.  I don’t want to hold you and the boy up.”

“Boy’s name is Peter.  You can call me Elsa.”

The large woman with graying hair stood above me and blocked the morning sun.  The air was crisp and cool, and the sky was as clear as glass.  “Bacon be ready soon.  You get your business done now.  We be pulling out right after we eat.”

I did as the lady asked and as soon as we’d eaten and cleaned the dishes, I helped hitch the team and we were off down the road heading south.  Though I didn’t ask how far the woman planned to travel, I could always catch a stage home. When we reached a decent-sized town, I could send a wire and let everyone know I was okay. 

Not realizing how tired I was, I slept off and on for the next couple of days.  My body was worn out.  I wasn’t fully recovered.  The night spent tied to the tree with all the rain and wind the clouds could muster had left me as feeble as an old man.  I still couldn’t pull my weight, but that’s the last thing my family would expect.  I’d done a very foolhardy thing.

*

Chapter 4 ~ Hoss

Three weeks passed since Joe’s bed had been slept in.  Me and Pa and Adam had looked everywhere within a twenty-mile radius and found nothing that gave us hope of ever seeing Little Joe again.  Roy had been told, and he was as dumbfounded as we were over my brother’s disappearance. 

“I just don’t understand, Ben.  Why would that young’un run off like that?”

“Roy, if I had the answer, I’d be the first to let you know.”

Pa had won the contract, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if our bid had anything to do with my brother’s sudden departure.  I didn’t say nothing to Adam or Pa, but it was that itchy feeling a man gets when things don’t seem quite right and flares up when he don’t expect it.

While Pa and Adam filled the timber camp with capable men, I was on the hunt for my brother.  I hit everything local, saloons, jails, rooming houses, and hotels, but no one had seen a young man with curly brown hair and a slight build.  I’d have to expand my search but where?

*

~ Joe

We formed a unique partnership—Elsa, Peter, and me.  After long days of traveling, we had a routine we followed every night.  Elsa had plenty of food for two hungry boys, and Peter and I were eager to tend the horses and anything else she wanted us to do.  I felt lucky to have found the pair of travelers.  Actually, they found me, and my life had become more livable since I didn’t have to think about dying every waking minute. 

Even my breathing had become more manageable.  I wasn’t wheezing and coughing all the time, and I was beginning to feel like my old self, a good feeling.  I had to give Elsa and Peter some of the credit.  They took me in and treated me like family, and I was grateful.

“Whoa!  Whoa!”

When the team slowed to a stop, I looked up from my bed in the back of the wagon.  Three men on horseback and one man driving a big iron wagon had ridden up and were talking to Elsa.  I couldn’t hear the conversation, but it seemed cordial enough.

Elsa tied off the reins and climbed down from the wooden seat.  After reaching up for the boy, she helped him down and stood him on the ground beside her.  I climbed out of the wagon and walked up to stand beside my friends.

“You know these men?”

“I’m afraid I do, Joe.”

The man driving the wagon slid off his seat and stood in front of the three of us.  “Come on, Boys.”

The man grabbed my arm, and I struggled to pull it away.  “What’s this all about?”

“The two of you are coming with us.”

“Like heck we are.”

“It’s your choice, Boy.  You can make this easy or make this hard.”

I turned my attention to Elsa.  “What’s going on?”

She wrung her hands in front of her substantial waist.  “This is as far as I go.  My job is done.”

“Job?  What’s that mean?”

Before climbing back on the wagon, she leaned down and kissed Peter on the cheek and then turned toward me and placed her hand on the side of my face.  “Good luck, Joe.”

With her words lingering in my ear, the driver grabbed Peters and my arms and hauled us to the back of the wagon.  “In you go, Boys.  When I glanced up at the two men on horseback with rifles lying across their laps, I didn’t hesitate to do as I was told.  “Better do as he says, Son.”

Peter climbed the steps first.  I followed and when I saw two young ladies and a boy close to my age sitting inside, I wanted to run, but with two guns at the ready, my chances were slim that I’d get anywhere on foot.  I took a seat inside the iron wagon.

*

Chapter 5 ~ Hoss

“He ain’t nowhere, Pa.”

“I’m well aware, Son.”

My father had found Cochise at the livery, but which way had the kid gone?  When I thought of how many ways a boy Joe’s age could get into trouble, I couldn’t help but worry.  Adam and Pa were feeling the same as me, but none of us spoke aloud.

I’d ridden out every day for the past couple of weeks and tacked up a likeness of Joe outside every sheriff’s office, every mining camp, and every trading post I came across.  If those men who’d beaten him before had found him again, my brother was a dead man, but that kind of thinking got me nowhere.  After packing a set of clean clothes and a sack of food that wouldn’t rot in the hot sun, I was ready for a longer trip.  Adam suggested I ride south. 

“South?  Why south?”

“If he wanted to leave the country, Mexico would be a good choice.”

“Why would he leave the country?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t believe he would, but … where would you go if you didn’t want to be found?”

“You might be right.”

“I might.”

I stood from the dining room table more confused than I was before.  Should I take my brother’s advice and travel south?  It was as good a choice as any.  I said my goodbyes to Pa and Adam and headed out the front door.  I was off on an adventure that I hoped would have a promising ending.

*

~ Joe

The five of us were at the mercy of unwashed men with firearms.  Inside the hot, metal coach, the air was stuffy and stale, and we sat on wooden benches, but we couldn’t lean back against the wagon for fear of burning our backs.  No one spoke a word.  No one had a clue where we were headed or what this was all about.  I sat next to Peter, but I said nothing.

What was there to talk about anyway?  I didn’t dare bring up how thirsty I was or how hard it was to sit on a six-inch plank and ride with a straight back.  Most of us rode bent forward with our elbows on our knees and our heads resting in our hands.  I’d never been so miserable in my life.

I tried not to stare at the two girls.  One looked a bit older than me and the other girl was closer to my age, and she was the pretty one.  With fiery red hair and dark, heavy lashes that accentuated her bright blue eyes, she’d be the first one picked for a dance or a luncheon date at a Sunday social.  If only circumstances had been different.  Silly thoughts.  She was just a kid, and so was I, and that was the end of it.

When the wagon stopped and the door was pulled open, the five of us tumbled out like a bunch of crazed cattle escaping through a gap in the fence.  I took deep breaths to fill my lungs and arched my back to relieve the soreness of the long day’s ride.

“Sit under that tree.”

I looked at the man giving instructions.  He wasn’t much older than me, but he had a purpose in life and that was to drive five young people to a preset destination.  Attached to the side of the wagon was a huge water barrel.  He motioned for Peter to help him deliver tin cups of water to his prisoners.  Peter, as thin as a rail and as fair as winter wheat, carried out the man’s orders without complaint.  I would’ve done the same.  Escape would come later.  Three to one wasn’t my idea of good odds.  We weren’t fed, but at least we were watered and had a chance to stretch our legs before crawling back inside the metal box and sweltering all afternoon.

Elsa had been paid well for her delivery.  All along I thought Peter was her son, but he was nothing more than a lost soul like me.  The other three had the same fate.  Probably homeless street urchins.  I’d made a big mistake, and every minute we traveled farther away from the Ponderosa, I realized how stupid I’d been to leave home.

We’d been taken for a purpose although I had no idea what the outcome would be.  If they were looking for white slaves, I think they’d pick people older than us, but I was naïve about those things.  Sitting around the supper table, we’d talked about slavery and such, especially Adam and me, and rarely agreed on the righteousness of North and South, but this was the Utah Territory and as far as I knew, slaves were only kept in the Southern states so why had we been handed over to three men with guns pointed in our direction?

As soon as we were shoved back inside the iron tank, I nearly spewed the water I’d just drank.  The odor of sweaty hair and bodies was overwhelming, nearly more than a person should have to deal with. I’d ridden on coaches with foul-smelling men, but the constant heat created a different odor altogether.

Without touching the sides of the burning wagon, the five of us took our seats and prepared for an afternoon of bouncing and swaying and trying not to be sick.  It became clear that Martha was the weak link in our circle of five.  She complained the loudest.

“I’m not supposed to be here.”  I looked at her as though she’d lost her mind, but my father taught me compassion.  “I should be halfway to San Francisco by now.”

“We’re all in the same boat, you know.”

“Well, it’s not right.”

“I agree.”

“Then why don’t you do something.”

“Like what?”

After one or two weeks of travel, we were exhausted and had lost track of time.  We’d had little to drink and less to eat and the oldest girl, the girl who chose to complain, didn’t look good at all.  Two of us had to hold her up on the seat or she’d end up in worse shape if she fell against the wagon.  Another few days in the hell hole and we’d all be dead, but I couldn’t think about that.  I had to concentrate on keeping the girl alive.

As the journey progressed, a few facts became common knowledge. Her name was Martha and she was seventeen years old.  Like me, she’d left home, but our similarities ended there.  She had traveled west on a stage until she’d run out of money and … to make a long story short, a “nice young man” had introduced her to Elsa.  All of our stories were similar, and we were all heading to an unknown destination and an uncertain future.

*

Chapter 6 ~ Hoss

As Adam suggested, I rode south, but not only was the Utah Territory huge, next came the New Mexico Territory before I reached my destination, and then what?  Where would I look for a lost brother?  If Joe didn’t want to be found, the whole trip would be a lost cause, a joke on me.

Not only was I becoming saddle sore, but I was riding straight into Navajo and Apache homelands.  One tribe after another scattered their lodges through the territories, and I weren’t more than a sitting duck who only wanted to grab my brother and ride home.  I meant no harm to no one, but a white man navigating his mount over Indian soil was a fool.

On the horizon, a dust cloud rose high into the sky and made me aware of how alone and helpless a man in my situation could be.  There was no cover to be found, no outcropping of rocks or a hill to hide behind, but I plowed forward and hoped for the best.  As the procession of riders moved closer, their blue coats told me the men were a division of the US cavalry patrolling the area, and my rapid-fire heartbeat could return to normal.  It wasn’t my time to die.

I stopped and waited for the troupers to approach.    I tipped my hat to the captain, “Hoss Cartwright from up Virginia City way.”

“Captain John Haskins, one hundred and third division.”

“Nice to meet you, Captain.”

“May I ask your business?”

“It might sound a bit strange, but I’m looking for a missing brother.”

“I see.  A family matter.”

“Yessir.”

“Word has it that a wagon full of orphans is heading for Mexico.  I’m not suggesting that you fit the bill, but I’d stay clean away from that gang.  I’m told they’re a hard bunch.”

“I will.  Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Is your brother … ?”

I chuckled.  “No.  He’s all growed up.  At least, he thinks he is, and he don’t look like no orphan.  Just took hisself a ride.”  Whether the captain liked my answer or not didn’t matter none.  I had a job to do, and I didn’t have time to chitchat.  “I’ll be moving on.”

“I wish you luck, Mr. Cartwright.”

“You too, Captain.”

Joe weren’t no orphan, and he’d rented hisself a good horse.  He didn’t need another type of conveyance, and he knew better than to get mixed up with a gang like that.

*

~ Joe 

Martha came back to her senses and swatted my hands away.  I understood her discomfort, and it was comical but hardly necessary.  I wasn’t doing anything improper and held back a laugh.  It wouldn’t be right to chuckle at someone else’s expense. 

The taller fella traveling with us introduced himself as Lester, and the other young woman called herself Boots.  I doubt it was her given name,  No one is christened Boots, but with a name as crazy as that, none of us would forget the freckled-faced redhead for quite some time. 

As though he was stuck to me with Spaulding’s Prepared Glue, Peter never left my side.  I’d become his protector, a job I took to heart.  Being the only person he felt comfortable with, the kid counted on me to see him through our ordeal, but what was our ordeal anyway?  The guard and driver had been closed-mouthed about where we were going and when we’d arrive.  None of us inside the iron wagon had an inkling of what horrors might dwell at the end of our long, hot journey.

The girls had more to fear than the boys; at least, that was my thinking.  The two young ladies who shared our wagon were innocents, too young to know the ways of the world or the evil that dallied in a depraved man’s mind.  I prayed they’d remain safe, but since we’d been taken and dragged into this miserable wagon, I didn’t think the outcome would be satisfying. 

God knows I couldn’t protect everyone.  Hoss would’ve been a better candidate to play guardian than me.  Both the driver and the guard were twice my size.  If I were dumb enough to incite an uprising, I wouldn’t stand a chance of staying alive.

*

Chapter 7 ~ Hoss

Two men with rifles stood outside a small, stone hut at the Mexican border.  Their job was to stop and interrogate anyone wanting to cross.  “Por favor, Señor.” 

“What can I do for you, Fellas?”

“Get down from your caballo, Señor.”

I lifted my leg over the saddle and patted Chubb’s neck.  Since I’d straddled a leather saddle during the heat of the day, it felt good to stand on solid ground and stretch my legs.  “What happens now?”

“Why you cross the border?”

“I’m searching for my brother.”

The man studied my words.  “Your brother?  He in Mexico?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How long you stay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Two dollar a day for escort.”

“For what?”

“Escort.  Help you find brother.”

“No.”  I chuckled at the suggestion.  “I don’t need an escort.”  I tipped my hat.  “Thanks anyway.”  The taller man turned to the fella standing next to him and rattled off something in Spanish.  I didn’t understand the words, and I mounted Chubby.  “I’ll be on my way.”

“Two dollars.”

Maybe if I handed him the money, he’d let me pass.  I dug inside my pocket and gave him two silver dollars.  “Here.”

“Manuel will escort.”

“I don’t need—”  Manuel had saddled a sorrel and pulled up next to me.  He slipped his rifle into a scabbard and kicked his mount forward.  I had an escort.

*

~ Joe

When the driver came to a stop, we were pulled one by one from the rear door of the wagon, thrown to the ground in a semi-circle, and told not to move.  My legs were so stiff, I couldn’t have moved anyway.  I doubt my wagon mates could either.  We’d sat crammed together for several long days on wooden benches.  The rising temperature and lack of food had made us all lethargic and incapable of escape.

“You.  Stand up.”

The guard pointed his shotgun at me, and I did as he asked.  I stood, and then I began to sway, and when I couldn’t keep my balance and before I could right myself, I fell onto my hands and knees.  Once again, I pushed up from the ground, and this time, I was able to stand without collapsing.

“You gotta name?”

“Yeah.”

“Well?”

‘Name’s Joe.”

“Bueno, José.  You’re the new leader.  The others will follow your lead.  Get out of line and someone gets hurt.  It’s up to you to keep the rest of your amigos in line.  You will follow a daily routine that El Capitán demands, and you don’t want to upset the man in charge.  Understood?”

I heard the words, but I was unable to agree to such nonsense.  What did this man expect of me?  Why was I chosen for a job I didn’t want to take on?

“You!  You dumb or something?”

I dropped my head.  “No.”

“Speak right up.”

“No, I’m not dumb.”

“Louder.”

“No!  I’m not dumb!”

“Good.  Get these people on their feet.  We got to move now.”

I looked down at the four weary passengers who were no better off than I was.  We were tired, hungry, and thirsty and since I’d become the leader, I had to get everyone moving.  Although the guard didn’t say, I realized there’d be consequences if I failed to do as ordered.

“Get up.  Let’s go.”

Boots, Peter, and Lester stood and moved toward me.  Martha only stared as if confusion had taken over and paralyzed her.  I elbowed Lester and together, we pulled her to her feet.  “Come on.  We have to get moving.”

I didn’t know the guard’s name, but he was a large man dressed in black.  Black shirt and trousers.  Black boots and hat.  The fact that he was covered in dust from top to bottom didn’t matter.  He was in no hurry to brush it off, but all of us were filthy and would stay that way for now.  He’d singled me out, and I didn’t think he’d back off from hurting me if he had the chance.  The look in his narrowed eyes told a story I didn’t much like.

We were escorted toward the main house.  Whether hauling Martha was allowed, no one knew, but if Lester and I hadn’t helped her, she would’ve sat on the ground all day, and I would’ve been the one disciplined for her actions.  I was the man in charge.

A grand stairway led to a portico of the captain’s big house.  Large windows flanked each side of the doorway and when a shadow stirred inside, I gathered that someone was watching.  Maybe El Capitán or maybe a wife.  A servant girl or whatever they call a butler in a country I had no thought of entering could be giving El Capitán a heads-up that the captives he acquired from the territories were on the premises.

“That’s far enough.”

Still holding Martha to her feet, the five of us stood in a straight line at the base of the stairs and waited for the guard to climb to the top and rap on the front door.  The driver had been left behind to stand guard.  He was another one I wouldn’t want to tangle with.  His broad shoulders and beefy hands told me I’d never stand a chance in a one-on-one confrontation.  Escape wouldn’t be easy.

And there was our fearless leader.  Dressed in a pristine uniform and cap, El Capitán stood at the top of the stairs and stared down at the new arrivals. I felt self-conscious.  I felt as though the man could stare right through me, and when he turned toward the guard and spoke something none of us could hear, I was singled out again.  The guard called my name.

“José.  Join us.”

It was up to Lester to care for Martha while I was gone.  I took the steps two at a time until I reached the spacious landing where the two men stood, but that had been a stupid mistake. I could barely breathe, and I gasped for air.

The uniformed man appraised me from top to bottom as though I was his prized bull.   I didn’t like being stared at and wished I was anywhere else.  I’d witnessed men like him before.  Men who thought they owned the world.  Men who looked down on the rest of society.  Men who were quick to anger and took their frustrations out on the one nearest to him.

“So you’re the leader.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Will you make trouble for me?”

When I saw the look in his eyes, I changed my tune.  “No, Sir.  I’m the leader.”

“That’s better.”

While standing toe to toe with El Capitán, I saw more in his eyes than was first revealed.  Even though I’d just met the man, he frightened me.  No trace of compassion, and no suggestion of kindness.  A hint of evil held court behind his dark brown eyes, and I wanted to run.

“Come with me, Young Man.”

After leaving my companions behind, I followed El Capitán inside the grand house.  He didn’t care that I hadn’t bathed for weeks or that my clothes were crumpled and coated with grime, I’d been chosen as spokesman and leader of the two young ladies and two young men who’d been taken and forced on a trip no one planned to take.  I had to keep my wits about me and say what the man wanted to hear.

A woman stood in a darkened doorway, but all I could make out was a hint of light skimming across her breasts and the right side of her face.  The rest of her body was hidden by shadow, and when I realized I was staring, I turned my attention back to the man in charge.

Although he didn’t offer me a seat, El Capitán sat in a leather chair behind a large oak desk.  On a wood-paneled wall behind him hung a large oil painting of his family.  The man had a much younger wife, an older son, and two small children.  I wondered if his first wife had died, and he went for a younger model although I’d never be privy to that information.

As I continued to survey the sizable space, a man closed the double doors behind me leaving El Capitán and me alone, and though I still wasn’t offered a seat, the room was over warm, and I fought to remain standing.

“Javier has appointed you the leader of the newest members of our operation.”

Was I supposed to speak?  Was I supposed to be happy about my appointed position?  I didn’t want to be a leader of kidnapped children.

“You’re a handsome boy, José.  Has anyone told you that before?”

“No, Sir.”

“I find that hard to believe.  God has granted you fine features.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Now, on to business.  You’ll learn your duties in time.  First, I want to inspect the fresh, new faces.”  The man who had inspected my face first and embarrassed me with his comment stood from his chair.  “I’ll follow you outside.”  Like magic, the double doors were opened, and I walked back through the main house to the front door.  The captain followed close behind.

“Bring them to me one at a time.  Begin with the youngest.”

I flew down the stairs and laid my hand on Peter’s shoulder.  “Come meet the captain.”  Peter’s eyes showed fear, but there was nothing I could do.  “Come on, Boy”. The kid held my hand and we walked up the stairs together.

“What’s the boy’s name?”

“Peter.”

“Welcome to Casa Blanca.  From today forward, you will be called Pedro, a good solid name.”  The captain turned toward the front door and hollered, “Maria!”  A woman came running, and the captain spoke to her in Spanish.  I didn’t understand all the words, but when she reached for Peter’s hand, I wondered if I’d ever see the kid again.

“Next.”

Again, I ran down the front stairs and reached for Martha’s hand.  “Come on.  Let’s go.”  The girl was a thorn in my side, and instead of doing as I asked, she dropped to the ground and refused to move.  I glanced at Javier, and he shook his head.  Martha’s actions didn’t bode well with the guard.  I doubt the captain was thrilled with her either.  “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“I’m not going up those stairs.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No!  I won’t go.”

The girl was deadweight, but I didn’t have a choice.  I pulled her to her feet, dragged her up the stairs, and then fought to catch my breath.

“A feisty one, aren’t you?” 

Martha turned her head away, but the captain wasn’t amused, and after catching my eye he said, “Return to your friends, José, and send Javier to me.”

With a rifle slung over his shoulder and a leather band of bullets circling his chest and back, the guard marched up the stairs like a true Mexican liberal.

“Hold her steady.” 

The three of us huddled together and stared up at the two men and Martha, and to prove a point, El Capitán ripped her cotton skirt from its waistband.  “Drop those pantalones to the ground.”

With a look of horror, Martha looked at the older Mexican as though he were insane.  “I won’t.”

“You will.”

Martha stood her ground—a mistake she’d regret—and El Capitán nodded at Javier, who’d been holding her hands behind her back.  “This little puta disobeys me, and I don’t take kindly to a rebellious whore.  Strip her naked.”

Although she fought, she didn’t stand a chance of winning.  Javier had done this sort of thing before and using a knife he pulled from his belt, he shredded every stitch of clothing she wore and tossed the bits of rags down the flight of stairs so all could see.  When she tried to cover herself, he grabbed her wrists and returned her hands to a brutal position behind her back.  Her nakedness embarrassed all of us, but the captain wasn’t finished.

“Spread those legs, My Little Puta.  Spread them wide.”

When he clutched the nape of her neck and ran the back of his free hand between her breasts, I looked away.  And when he jammed that same hand between her legs, I’d never forget the cry the young woman made when his thick, fat fingers entered her for the first time. 

“Oh, God!”

An unsettling flash of Jake Milton’s man grabbing me between the legs came roaring back as though it were happening all over again.  The panic I felt that night must’ve doubled for poor Martha, but I feared this was only the beginning.  The girl had played with fire, and she was bound to get burned.

*

Chapter 8 ~ Hoss

My escort, Manuel, was a good man.  He was close to Little Joe’s age, had the same sense of humor and silly laugh, and we got along like peas in a pod.  My pa would like him.  He was that kind of guy.  Instead of playing my boss, he made suggestions, and we traveled to places I never would’ve found on my own.  He asked the right questions and took me to the best places to eat and sleep, but we were no closer to finding my brother than we had been on day one.  Luck hadn’t been on our side, but we plowed forward.

*

~ Joe

Next was Boots, and that’s when I realized my mistake.  Martha was the older of the two.  I’d messed up and brought the wrong girl up to meet El Capitán.  How could I make such a mistake?  What the heck was I thinking?  Down the stairs, I ran and took hold of Boots’ hand.  “Ready?”

“No.”

“Let’s go.”

Boots understood my situation, and she didn’t want to make it harder on me than she had to.  After watching Martha make a fool of herself and witnessing the consequences that followed, she walked up the stairs like a princess.  The two of us stood together in front of the captain who raised her hand to his lips.

“Lovely Little Chica.  It is with much pleasure that I kiss the hand of one so beautiful.”

Boots’ eyes met mine, but what could I say?   With her wild red hair and fair skin, the older man was impressed by her beauty.  Any man would be, but what did that mean for a fourteen-year-old girl who was far from experienced?

“You may stand by my side while José brings the last hombre to me.”

One last trip down the stairs, and Lester and I walked back up together.  When I saw that the captain had his arm around Boots’ shoulder, I wanted to tell him no, that she wasn’t for sale, but what would become of the two of us if I interfered at this stage?  He hadn’t hurt her, and she hadn’t pulled away so why should I step forward and make a fool of myself?

“What is your friend’s name, Jose?”

“Lester.”

“You will both follow me inside for further instructions.”

Rather than sitting behind his desk as before,  El Capitán sent Boots off with Maria, told us to wait in the front parlor, and when he returned with Martha, her nakedness had been covered by traditional Mexican attire.  With her jet-black hair, she could pass for a member of the family.  But when the captain sat beside her on a small sofa, Lester and I realized that she would never be treated like a daughter.   With one hand draped across her shoulder, he crossed one leg over the other, and his free hand began to roam.  He pulled at the satin string that circled the top of her camisole, and the white muslin fell to either side of her full rounded breasts.  With his free hand, he cupped the one closest and held it taut for Lester and me to admire.

“A fine specimen.  Very fine.  The man who beds this little puta will enjoy a hand full.”

The old Mexican was enjoying himself at Martha’s expense and even though she held steady, he was far from finished.  When he placed her hand on his crotch, tears fell from her eyes, but then he went a bit farther.  After uncrossing his legs, he unbuttoned his trousers and guided her hand inside.

Though I tried to look away, El Capitán wasn’t buying. “Watch and learn, José.  This little puta was made for men like us.  This little puta enjoys the simple pleasures life has to offer.  Who will be next?  José?  Lester?”

Neither of us answered.  Neither of us wanted to sit on the sofa next to Martha.

“Let’s see what the tall boy has to offer.”  Lester sighed, but it wasn’t overloud, and I doubt the Captain heard.  “Change places with me, Boy.” 

I didn’t want to watch this either, but El Capitán would never allow me to leave the room.  He stood and moved toward me, and while Lester took his place on the sofa, the captain sat beside me.

“Feel her softness.  Handle her breasts.  She likes warm hands to clutch and crush.  Squeeze and induce pain.  Let’s see what she’s made of, Lester.  Use your tongue and make her hard.  It’s your choice.  The little puta is eager to get laid.  Sí?  Is the term fuck.  Fucking whore?  Fuck the whore?  Sometimes I have trouble grasping the language.”

When I tried to look away, El Capitán redirected my eyes toward the sofa.  Would I be next?  If so, what did the man expect me to do?  I’d never been with a woman, and this wasn’t how I’d planned to learn the ropes.  All along, the idea was to bed a whore in Virginia City, but not a young girl who didn’t want to be touched by anyone.

“Maybe she want to straddle you, Lester.  Maybe she knows how to satisfy a man but plays shy and reserved. Like a game.  You think?  Let her know what you want.  She’s eager to please.”

Again, I averted my eyes, but El Capitán’s patience was growing thin.  His frustration with Lester didn’t bode well, but it only took a minute to understand what he wanted.  When he slid his hand inside his trousers, I realized he got off on watching other people, but Lester was stubborn and wouldn’t be ordered to molest a young woman.  

“You’re worthless, Tall Boy.  Your chance is finished.  Get out of the room. Get out of my house.”  I stood to leave with Lester.  “No.  Not you, José.  You will stay.”

*

Chapter 9 ~ Hoss

Three weeks had passed.  Manuel and I had ridden through several towns and villages.  We’d stopped at several casitas, restaurantes, and bars and asked questions, and we talked to passersby but were unable to learn a dang thing, and my frustration grew with each day we rode farther into a country that seemed to hold nothing I was after.

*

~ Joe

Even though the night I had to touch Martha wouldn’t leave my mind for more than five minutes, I had to go on with my life.  At least we didn’t have to complete the entire scene in front of El Capitán.  After cupping her breast, I tilted her head toward mine for a kiss, and the older Mexican stood.

“I knew you were the smart one, José.  I will leave you two alone.  Enjoy the little puta!”

As though her breast was as hot as a skillet full of fried chicken on Hop Sing’s stove, my hand flew away as if burned and blistered and raw.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.” That’s all I said before I covered the girl with a serape and left the room.  Maybe I was wrong about the old man wanting to watch.  Life had become so darn complicated.

Everyone but me had been given new clothes to wear.   The Casa Blanca uniform consisted of a white shirt and white trousers.  Everyone looked the same, and if any of the boys tried to escape, they’d be returned to the house without question.  El Capitán was a big man, an important man, and no one questioned the way he ran his businesses.  He had several, and with slave labor, his ventures flourished.

I hadn’t seen Martha or Boots since the day we arrived, but Javier was everywhere.  Lurking.  Hiding in the shadows. A day didn’t go by that I didn’t see his ugly face watching me.  I knew Martha’s fate, but I wasn’t sure about Boots.  She was just a kid.  Fourteen.  A year younger than me. Too young to have her life ruined by the captain.  I hated to think that he’d bedded both girls.

Perhaps I spoke too soon.  It was midday, and I’d been breaking horses since dawn, and that was when I heard soft cries coming from one of the tool sheds that sat close to the corral.  Several young men worked in the fields, but when the captain found out I knew a thing or two about horses, he put me to work getting mounts ready for the liberals. 

Before Martha stumbled out of the tool shed, Edwardo had come to stand close to me at the corral fence.  Being the captain’s eldest son, he was next in line to own Casa Blanca, but he walked out of the same shed as Martha.  The poor kid had to lay down for both men, father and son.  It didn’t seem fair, but life wasn’t always fair, and Martha had been singled out on day one  At seventeen, her lot in life was to service both men and pretend to enjoy father and son alike.

The captain’s son was a worthless young man.  He spent most days in the salones gambling his father’s money.  Word around Casa Blanca was that he was either gambling or taking up with the town whores, who were glad to take any pieces of silver he had to offer.

Edwardo came to stand beside me.  “You are good at the horse-breaking?”

“Your father thinks so.”  Though I didn’t want to talk to a man who’d take advantage of a young lady, I wondered if he’d come to toot his horn. 

“He has much business with the liberals.  They pay good money for new mounts.”

“Same deal where I come from.”

“You have family?”

“Pa and two brothers.”

“They will miss you?”

“Yes.”

“They will look for you?”

“Yes.”

“They won’t find you here.”

I wasn’t thrilled with the conversation, but other than having his way with Martha, he spoke straight out, and I liked that, and he was right.  My family would never find me here.  “I better get back to work.”  Edwardo walked away without another word.  Guess he said all he wanted to say, and I didn’t dare let the captain see me fooling around and doing nothing.  “That sorrel ready, Jimmy?”

“All set, José.”

I rode five more Spanish Mustangs before suppertime and lived to tell the story.  If Edwardo thought I was kidding, he was wrong.  I was very good at my job.  Every beautiful horse was a different color and a handsome brown and white reminded me of Cooch, a good-looking paint.  If the time was ever right to escape, I’d take that horse with me.  From day one, I hoped we could be together someday.

Late that afternoon, I was summoned to the main house.   Without having time for a bath, I readied up the best I could and put on a clean shirt.  I thought I’d been doing a decent job for the captain, but maybe I was wrong.  Perhaps he wasn’t pleased with the number of horses I had ready to go.  Since I rode from dawn to dusk, I don’t know what he expected, but I’m sure I’d find out.

Javier stood outside the house.  It seemed his duties as prison guard had expanded to overseer of the property.  This time, he leaned against one of the large, round pillars that supported the portico and waited for me to arrive.  After climbing the long, plank stairs, I tipped my hat to the big man before using the brass knocker on the front door.  Maria was quick to answer and invited me inside.

“El Capitán in parlor.  You go.”

“Thanks, Maria.  I’ll do just that.”

As I stepped through the open double doors, the variety of people surprised me.  Maybe it shouldn’t have, but when I looked from one to the other, the captain waved me inside.

“Take a seat, José.  Anywhere you like.”

El Capitán sat next to his young bride, Carlotta.  Edwardo was seated across from Boots, who was dressed to the nines, decked out in jewels and a black, lace mantilla that draped over bare shoulders.  She looked like royalty, but she acted like a girl who was scared to death.

Even though she was nearly grown, Martha had been seated with the captain’s younger children at a table off in the corner of the room.  She’d been given a white blouse, a plain skirt, and nothing more.  No shoes.  No jewels.  No black mantilla to fall across bare shoulders, and her hair was as dull as her eyes.  She worried her hands in her lap and stared at the blank wall in front of her.

“Welcome to our family gathering.” 

I held my hat with both hands, but I was at a loss for words.  Did El Capitán think I’d fit into this strange group of owners and slaves?  The odd selection of individuals didn’t belong in the same room.  The entire night felt insane, and I’d become part of the insanity.

“Pour yourself a drink, José.  We’re all family here.”

“Yessir.”

Assorted bottles of tequila, mescal, and pulque set atop a large buffet to my right.  Several heavy Mexican glasses, lace napkins, and a bowl of white sugar had been lined up in front of the bottles.  I had no idea which to choose, and I felt like a fool.  I was a beer-drinking man, well, I’d had a couple of beers one night with my brothers, and I was far from educated in the world of fine spirits.  I didn’t know beans about all the fancy stuff, but I didn’t have much choice.  I needed to pick something and pour it into a glass.  I chose the tequila.  At least I’d heard of that one.  Holding the glass in one hand and my hat in the other, I turned and looked to my host for direction.

“Have a seat, José.  Edwardo was just telling us about your prowess inside the corral.”

My face turned red as I glanced around the room for an available chair and the only vacancy in the parlor was next to Boots.  Had the captain planned things that way?  Was this his idea of a joke?  I’d made a mistake on day one and introduced Martha before Boots.  Did he think Boots was the oldest girl in the group?  Was he handing her over to me?  Was that the plan? 

She had the look of a debutant going to a fancy ball.  But the whole night was a sham.  We couldn’t come and go as we pleased.  We had to play by his rules, and they could change at any time.  I felt like an outsider and questioned whether this was how the two girls spent most evenings.  How out of whack had our lives become?

Maria topped off our drinks.  I’d become light-headed, and the room had begun to spin.  Closing my eyes made things worse, and I jerked my eyelids open and tried to set myself straight.   If I didn’t keep my wits about me, I could end up in more trouble than I knew what to do with.

Small talk filled the room, and everyone except Boots and I enjoyed light conversation.  Though I’d spoken to her several times before, I couldn’t find the right words to say.  Perhaps it was the clothes she wore.  They made her look twice her age, and that didn’t bode well for an innocent young lady.  Someone would take advantage of a child dressed as a princess, but it wouldn’t be me.

*

Book 3

The holidays come every year.

Chapter 1 ~ Hoss

“A little to the left.”

“That’s what you keep saying, Big Brother, and that’s what I keep doing.  Ain’t it right yet?”

“That’s good.” 

“The dang tree doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“It does this year.”

“Why?  What makes this year different?”

“Pa.”

I thought about Adam’s words and for once, my older brother was right.  A year ago, Pa barely left his room.  He dwelled on Joe’s disappearance for months, but his life ended the day I returned from Mexico without my younger brother in tow.  Adam didn’t think our father could get any worse, but he did.  Without all three sons under one roof, his world became dark and brooding was a constant.

A lot changed over the past year.  Pa was beginning to come back to hisself.  Me and Adam both noticed the difference on Joe’s birthday.  Instead of hiding away and skipping the occasion, Pa wanted to celebrate.  We had all of Joe’s favorites:  fried chicken, potatoes and peas, and chocolate cake.  Joe would’ve been pleased with Hop Sing’s selection.

Adam and I searched high and low for the perfect tree.  We didn’t do much without thinking about our father’s welfare.  We never argued; I mean, really argued.  We often scrapped at one another—me snapping at Adam over setting up a Christmas tree—but our thoughts were always on Pa and how to make life smoother and make his existence better.

There weren’t a day that came and went that I didn’t think of Little Joe and wonder if I missed him on the trail.  My escort, Manuel, was more of a help than a hindrance, and I enjoyed his company.  He showed me places I never would’ve found, riding by myself, and I thanked him.  He was a good man, but none of our travels took us to Joe. 

Adam wasn’t gone from home as long as I was, but he checked what he could in and around San Francisco.  There were stops along the way, Placerville and Sacramento, but no one had noticed a seventeen-year-old boy riding a gray gelding.

Weeks and then months passed, and after adjusting our tree and staring at the boxes of ornaments we’d always set out for Joe, I realized my young brother had ridden away from the ranch a year and a half ago.  If he was still alive, he’d have to find his way home without me or Adam’s influence or help.  The boy was on his own.

*

~ Joe

The party was in full swing.   Dressed in my new black suit, my fiancée wore ivory and lace and carried herself with such grace that I didn’t notice anyone else in the room.   While a mariachi band kept our guests entertained during the night’s festivities, tequila and mescal flowed like water.   Maria’s buffet was the hit of the party.   The variety of dishes—tamales and enchiladas mixed with beans and rice—topped everyone’s plate.

Edwardo told me that Elizabeth had been turning heads since she first arrived at the estate.  With her slim physique and wild red hair, it was a miracle that I would be spending the rest of my life with such a sweet, lovely woman.   I don’t remember our first evening together, but several people had filled me in on the beginning of our courtship.

Though I’d been living in the big house since the accident, construction on our new home would begin within the next few weeks.  We were anxious for a place of our own, and we talked of nothing else, but moving day was still months away.  I’d healed enough that I was willing to go back to work but that wouldn’t be the case.  El Capitán said that life with my new bride was all I needed to concern myself with.  I was a very lucky man, and I’d learned a lot about the captain.

Nearly a year ago when an angry Mustang didn’t agree with my technique, I suffered a head injury, and the entire household of Casa Blanca helped me through the worst times.  The temper that grabbed hold and frightened those around me, the outburst of profanity that I couldn’t control, and the dizziness and temporary vision loss that drove me insane must have driven my caretakers insane too.

All that transpired during those first few weeks was an embarrassment that I wish had never happened, but they did and they are memories I’d rather forget.  The only good thing to come was that I was no longer a hired hand who busted broncs, lived off beans and tortillas, and slept in the bunkhouse.  I’d become part of a family with no memory of the past.

Even though I considered my life normal, no recollection of the time before the accident stayed with me.  It vanished from my memory, but I overheard snippets of conversations and realized I’d been dealt a different hand before coming to live in the big house.  I would call Casa Blanca my home from now on and, a few weeks after the accident, I took great honor in becoming the captain’s adopted son.  I was grateful to be accepted into the family.

Edwardo became my older brother, and the younger children were happy that I had become part of the family.  José Sanchez.  I stood proud of my new name and thanked my new father for his generosity.  I was part of a family I had come to adore.

*

Chapter 2 ~ Hoss

Celebrations were few and far between.  Even though we thought Pa had come around, he had severe lapses of melancholy and, after celebrating Joe’s seventeenth birthday without the kid being around, our father was in no frame of mind to mark special days with gifts or fancy suppers. Adam and I celebrated our birthdays in town at one of the saloons.  With Little Joe still absent from our lives, nothing had remained the same, but me and Adam were still brothers and we treated each other as such.

*

~ Joe   

Join us at Casa Blanca for the nuptials of my son, José, and his lovely fiancée, Elizabeth, on Saturday, June 24 at four in the afternoon.  The service will be held in our courtyard followed by dinner and a night filled with mariachis and dance.

The wedding went off without a hitch.  The priest stood before us and performed the ceremony, and then several people we’d never met before congratulated Elizabeth, whom I called Beth, and me, and the two of us were cordial although it became tiresome after hours of smiling and handshaking.  If we could find a place to hide, I would’ve been in heaven but I owed my father.  He’d spent a great deal of money and put on a great show, and we were thankful for his generosity but tired.

My new mother and Edwardo were close in age, which wasn’t much older than me.  Though I wasn’t sure of my birthdate, none of that mattered.  I married the love of my life, and I had a family who cared what happened to me.  A man didn’t need more than that. 

We partied until the sun peaked over the horizon.  Edwardo had slipped away early on to celebrate at the local hangout.  Partying with gamblers and whores was more to his liking than silly things like weddings, and the look on Papá’s face said it all. Edwardo had become a true disappointment, and Papá had been quick to shower me with love over that of his birth son.

Beth and I would live in my upstairs bedroom until our casita was finished, but it wouldn’t take too long.  I promised her that we’d be out of the big house before she knew it, and that’s a promise I intended to keep.  The horse-breaking job went to Jim and a new man named Ollie.  Jim was a good friend and Ollie, a kid from up north, took my place until my home was move-in ready, and I was well enough to return to work.  Weather was rarely a factor, so there wouldn’t be much problem seeing that the house was finished on time.

New employees—men like Ollie—were a constant at Casa Blanca.  Young men and women who were tired of their lives in the States ventured south looking for work, and the captain was eager to give everyone a chance at a new beginning.  I praised him for his kindness.  Not every man would be so gracious.

*

Chapter 3 ~ Hoss

Pa would be heading up the spring drive.  Our lives would never feel normal, but Adam and I were proud of our father.  He’d worked through the bad times and come out right and ready at the other end.  His demeanor had transformed from woeful and morose to the Ben Cartwright of old.   Pa was back and only good times lay ahead.

*

~ Joe

I told Beth to start packing.  We’d load the wagon and head to our new home on Saturday.  Neither of us had much to pack, but Papá opened a bank account in my name, and we were able to furnish our casita and any other necessities we might need would come from the money he deposited for our benefit.  Instead of a weekly paycheck, Papá chose this way of divvying up money to his older children.  Even though Edwardo was frivolous with Papá’s hard-earned silver, he lived outside the main house in his own casita built to his specifications and didn’t bother coming up to the main house often.

After our initial problems in the bedroom, Beth and I took several evening drives down to the stream, sat on its bank, and stared at the progress of our new home.  We watched the framing, then the siding and thatched roof go up, and then the interior.  Stained woodwork and buckets of plaster came next, and I filled her in on the progress of each room she would be decorating to her liking. 

“You’re going to love it, Sweetheart.”

“You think so?”

“Of course, I do.  What’s not to like?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you won’t have to wait much longer.  Saturday is right around the corner.”

I’m not sure who was more anxious for a bit of privacy.  Even though I’d been the perfect gentleman and hadn’t been with my wife until after we were married, we both felt self-conscious about making love in the big house.  Often, near the bank of the stream, when we were far away from everyone, Beth and I could enjoy our privacy.  I loved her so much that it was difficult for me to wait until we were off by ourselves to take her in my arms and never let her go.

But most evenings, when supper was finished and the sun began to dip behind Casa Blanca’s tile roof, we’d romp and play with the children.  Hide and seek was their all-time favorite, and we’d run around the grounds until only the moon lit the sky.  Luis was three and Elena just turned five.  They were good kids, fun kids, and when their education was finished for the day, they’d find Beth and me and wait like little angels until the time was right.  Although they ran us ragged, we loved every minute.

Carlotta—my new mother—loved my wife like a daughter.  She doted on me also, but Elizabeth—“Using one’s proper name is always best,” she’d say—was her favorite.  Beth didn’t mind the name, and she thought of Carlotta as a gem in the desert.  She loved the woman almost as much as she loved me.  Papá was a different story.  Beth had trouble warming up to him, but she wouldn’t tell me why.

On Monday, Jim and Ollie were given the day off from the corrals and asked to help Beth and me move to our casita.  The plaster had dried and the furniture had arrived.  Maria had stocked the pantry and trained one of her girls, Sofia, who helped her in the kitchen over the last six or seven months to be our new cook and bottle washer.  Sofia was a cute little blonde who had come to Casa Blanca looking for a job.  Hired on as kitchen help, Maria said she was a quick study and would work well with Beth.

All day long, I stared at Ollie.  Something about bright, blue eyes and straw-blonde hair brought a memory.  He said he was a cowboy and that he pushed cattle.  I’m not sure what my job was or where I came from before I met my new family, but I doubt I’d ever pushed cattle.  The past might always haunt me, but I don’t dwell on things I can’t change. 

When I mentioned that I’d never thought my lot in life would lead to living in the big house and being adopted by one of the most prestigious men in Mexico, Beth’s eyes teared, and she turned her back to me.  I tried to understand what she was thinking but she wouldn’t let go of her thoughts. 

“Just leave it, Joe.”  She was the only one who called me Joe.  The rest of the world used my given name and though I never asked why, I found it endearing. 

“Seems to me that I should have a nickname for you.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“Call me Boots.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Boots?”

“If you’re sure.”

“Mama used to call me Bethy Boots, but you can leave the Bethy part behind.  I love my mama and papa, and I’d like to remember the days of my youth.”

From that day forward, I called my wife Boots.

*

Chapter 4 ~ Hoss

A well-earned profit was collected from the spring cattle drive.  After our drovers were paid and we took a day in Sacramento to rest up, Pa and Adam and I headed back to the ranch and our daily routine.  Though I still missed my young brother, I tried not to think of how different life had been when Joe was part of our lives.  My gut told me the kid was still alive, but how could I be sure?  I needed him to be sitting in front of that blazing fire when we walked through the front door.  If that were the case, our lives would be complete, and I could let a genuine smile cross my face.

*

~ Joe

We hadn’t told anyone the good news.  “Not just yet,” she said.  “Women lose babies all the time in the first months.”

“If you’re sure, I won’t say a word.”

“I’m sure.”

I knew the night that Boots became in the family way.  We’d walked down to our favorite spot by the stream and laid a blanket on the soft grass.  We called it a picnic, but it was much more than fried chicken and fresh-baked bread.  It was our five-month anniversary, and I let my wife have her way with me. After the initial difficulties when we were first married, I was surprised when she announced that she’d been curious about one thing.

“Why do men always take the lead when a woman is just as capable?” 

I chuckled at my wife’s boldness when it came to bedroom activities.   She learned fast and with new knowledge came a new Boots.  She never held back.  If she had something to say, she said it.  She was as bold as brass, and I loved her for speaking her mind.

“Is that how you want to play it?”

When her hands flew to her hips, I knew she meant business.  “Just once, I’d like to be the one in charge.”

I threw my arms in the air.  “I’m all yours, Sweetheart.  Tonight.  Down by the stream.”

“I’ll fry the chicken.”

“I’ll gather the blanket.”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”

It’s not that we didn’t make love more often than not, but there was something special about that night by the stream.  I could feel it in my bones, and I’d be the first to tell our child—when he was old enough, of course—how his mother had her way with me, and he was the outcome of an evening of infinite passion.

I’d gone back to breaking broncs with Jimmy and Ollie.  It’s what I did best, and I’d taken enough time off since I went through the corral fence and landed on my head.  If I could only remember my life before the accident, but there was nothing.  Where had I come from, and why did I leave my home?  The answers never came, and I did my best to accept the inevitable.

Oftentimes, I found Ollie staring at me, and it made me uneasy.  Was it because I was the boss’s son, or did he feel threatened because I’d come back to help break the Mustangs?  I wasn’t taking his or Jimmy’s job away.  I wasn’t that kind of guy. 

As time went on, Ollie mellowed and quit giving me the once-over.  The three of us got on well and always had enough horses ready on the date the Mexican liberals, under the direction of Benito Juárez, came to purchase the lot.  We made Papá proud, and that made me proud.  There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for that man.

He was so excited about the baby.  Holding his first grandchild was only weeks away, and it was all he talked about.    “Do you think it’s a boy?”

“How would I know, Papá?  I’m not God.”

“You’re my gift from God, Mi Chico.”

My father was a religious man, and every time he spoke, he sounded like a saint sent down to earth by the Almighty.  He praised me as though I was his blood son, and I tried to imagine how he’d feel about the baby.  Would I ever be able to hold my child or would Papá cradle the infant in his arms all day and night?  But there was a downside, and I felt that my wife was hesitant to let Papá near our child.  When I questioned her, the answers never came.  She had nothing to fear, but that’s how it seemed.  Why in the world would she fear my father?  He’d been nothing but kind and generous to both of us.  Papá had a big heart, and I loved him as any son would feel toward a tender and loving father.

*

Chapter 5 ~ Hoss

My older brother wasn’t as fussy about the tree this year.  He’d mellowed some and wasn’t as persnickety—one of Adam’s ten-dollar words—as he used to be about things.  Whether it had something to do with there just being two of us instead of three, I don’t know, but we’d all changed.  None of us were the same as we had been when Joe was a part of the family, although we accepted that life was different now and that nothing would ever be like it used to be. 

Our friends arrived at four o’clock on Christmas Eve for food and carols and Pa’s reading of the birth but this year, my father teared up.  “While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her first-born son.”  But Pa wasn’t alone.  Melancholy touched us all, and tears burned my eyes too.

*

~ Joe

Our son was born on Christmas Day.  Papá said it was a sign of greatness.  I couldn’t go that far, and Boots rolled her eyes, but my father had reasons for everything that happened in his world.  And because our boy picked that special holiday to enter our lives, we named him José Christiano, but Boots and I would call him Chris.

Maria was called in for the delivery.  Not only was she a fabulous cook, she also served as a midwife and had delivered Elena and Luis, but Beth’s labor was long and hard, and even though I stood outside our casita, pacing back and forth with Papá, her cries filled the air and left me nervous and afraid.  Even though her labor continued all day, it ended that evening around suppertime.  Our baby son was born.

When Maria waved me into the house, I didn’t hesitate to fly through the parlor, down the hallway, and into our bedroom.  With pillows propped behind her, Boots sat up in bed, and I’ll never forget the smile that spread across her face when she saw me.

“Come meet your son.”

I eased down on the bed and gazed at the little face that was swaddled inside a soft, muslin blanket.  Though I wasn’t an expert on newborns, I took pride in thinking that my son was the most handsome baby in all of Mexico.  With the tip of my finger, I traced down his little nose and mouth and across his rosy cheeks.  I gazed at my wife.  We’d created perfection.

As I held my firstborn, I thought back to a couple of months after my accident when I first met Beth. A woman named Elizabeth joined us at the dining room table for Papá’s birthday celebration.  She wasn’t the only guest but she was the only one dressed in a green satin gown. Every woman at the table sported a flower crown, but she was the woman who caught my eye and spoiled my appetite.

Papá seemed happy that I was interested in the young lady and made it his business to find occasions that we could be together.  Social gatherings were part of life at Casa Blanca and Elizabeth whom I soon called Beth, and I attended them all.  In time, I would ask her to be my wife, and sitting here looking at my newborn son, those first few weeks filled my mind.  I flashed back to our wedding night and remembered a different young woman.  As dawn approached and the guests began to leave, we climbed the stairs to our room, but I saw fear in my bride’s eyes and wondered if the idea of being alone with me was such a horrible thought.

“Please, Joe.  Not tonight.” 

She called me Joe from the get-go, and it wasn’t long before I called her Boots.  I loved that we had pet names, but the beginning of our marriage was rough, and I didn’t understand.  I still don’t understand, but maybe she’ll tell me what all the fuss was about before we’re old and gray.

Weeks passed and another celebration would be held at the big house.  Edwardo had found himself a girl named Isabella Rodriges, and they were to be married a week from Saturday.  Papá expected us all for supper at seven to discuss any final preparations.  In all honesty, I think he wanted to see Christiano.   He was crazy about the boy and insisted that Boots bring him to the big house more often.  Chris pleasured him so much that I begged her to go, but it was on rare occasions that she ventured in that direction.

“Would you mind if Chris and I stayed home tonight?”

“Home?  Why?  Don’t you feel well?”

“I’m a little under the weather.”

“Should I call the doctor?”

“No, nothing like that.  I’m just not up for a big supper and big conversation.”

I sat down next to my wife.  “If that’s how you feel.”

“It is.  I’ll take Chris so you can lie down for a while.”

“No, leave the baby here.”

“Why?  You know how Papá feels about the boy.”

She stood and moved toward a front window.  “Yes, I know, and I’d rather keep the baby here with me.”

“Is there something you’re not saying?”

Boots moved back toward me, cupped my face, and said,  “No.  I’d like to keep the baby with me just this once.  It’s no big deal.”

“All right.  I won’t stay late.”

“I love you.”

I kissed Boots on the lips.  “I love you more.”

The response from Papá was brutal.  He wasn’t happy, and he let me know that this kind of behavior wouldn’t be tolerated.  I’d never seen him so mad, and I never imagined his disappointment would last the entire evening. 

“Are you a man or a boy, José?  Only a boy would allow his wife to tell him what to do.”

His face was molten red, and the vein in his forehead protruded through chestnut-colored skin.  His hair trickled across his forehead like spilled ink, and he fisted his hands in pure rage.

“I’m sorry Papá.  I never meant any harm, but my wife felt a bit puny and didn’t think she could hold up her end at the party.”

“You should have brought Christiano with you.  No excuses.”

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize you’d be so upset.”

“Never again, Mi Chico.”

“Yes, Sir.  Never again.”

*

Chapter 6 ~ Hoss

Another year had passed and another cattle drive was in front of us.  Adam had hired the drovers, Hop Sing had stocked the chuckwagon, and I’d gathered as many yearlings and two-year-olds as possible.  Pa would boss the drive to Sacramento, and we’d hope for the same profit as last year.

*

~ Joe

Escaped?  Had I heard right?  Perhaps I misunderstood.  It was an ordinary evening, and I was bent in half holding Chris’s hands as he toddled through the grass like a trouper.  Though walking on his own was still weeks away, I found myself waddling around like a circus clown most of the time.

Boots carried our second child, and by the time I arrived home from work, she was ready to hand over my son as if I’d done nothing all day, but I didn’t mind.  Evenings became Chris and my special time but tonight was different. 

The boy had grown tired, and we stopped for a break in my father’s courtyard.  The wrought iron benches weren’t as comfortable as my overstuffed chair at home, but it felt good to sit down.  Even though I’d taken the day off and made a trip down to the trading post for Sophia, who was a good cook and a fun person to be around, I, too, had grown a bit weary.  But then there was the conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear.

“Two men escaped last night, Papá.  I’ve sent Juan and Mateo out looking.”

“How did this happen?”

“I’m not sure.  The wrangler didn’t show up for work and—”

“Jim?”

“No, the newer one, Ollie.  He and the liveryman, Charles.  They stole two of our horses and took off.”

“We have to get them back.  That man, Charles, is as gabby as an old woman.”

Edwardo shook his head.  “The liberals know what goes on here, Papá.  They are not the enemy.  They are amigos and will help us find those men.”

“I want guards posted.  No one else leaves Casa Blanca.  Understood?”

“Sí.  I understand, Papá.”

I heard footsteps.  I think they were my father’s.  The last time he paced like that, Boots was giving birth and I was alongside him.

“Where is José?”

“Somewhere with the kid.  I saw them a while ago.”

“Okay.  He must not find out.”

“That won’t be easy, you know.”

“It’s your job to make sure he doesn’t remember a thing.”

*

Chapter 7 ~  Hoss

With the drive behind us, it was back to business as usual, and though I still counted the months since Joe disappeared, our lives weren’t the same without him.  Don’t get me wrong.  Me and Adam got our work done, but my young brother provided the humor and playfulness that Adam lacked, and I missed the kid’s useless banter.  I ain’t laughed in a long, long time.

*

~ Joe

“You know, don’t you?”  I told Boots everything I’d overheard, and I watched her eyes slip from bright to dim in an instant.  “Tell me who I am.  Tell me what you know.”

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right.  I don’t.  That’s why you need to tell me everything.”

“I have to put our son to bed.” 

Nothing more was said.  Boots carried Chris down the hall and into his bedroom.  He had his own crib now.  No longer was he sleeping in our room. The day we moved him to a bedroom of his own, I thought it was a good reason to celebrate.  And because of that glorious night of passion, my wife carried our second child.  It’s not that there weren’t other nights when … but that night was special and we both had a feeling.

How much trouble were we in?  An ominous cloud hung heavy, and I feared the worst.  My wife was stalling.  It didn’t take a half hour to put the baby to bed, but I wouldn’t push.  She had a mountain of details to confirm, and she had all night to fill me in.  By dawn, I feared my life would be unrecognizable. 

Another fifteen minutes passed before Boots walked into the room.  “Let’s go out back.”

I followed my wife outside and we sat in the chairs I’d placed under an old oak just off our small courtyard.  I refused to remove the hundred-year-old tree when our casita was built.  For one thing, throughout the summer months, the giant tree shaded the west side of the house from the harsh afternoon sun, but the mighty oak served a second purpose.  This is where Boots and I talked out our problems.  The tree was accustomed to our visits.  The tree knew all our secrets.

Boots worried her hands in her lap.  She was as nervous as a saloon girl on nickel night.  “I don’t know where to start.”

“You can always try the beginning.”

“I can’t.  I … the old man will … there are secrets, Joe.”

“Tell me.”

Boots scanned the perimeter of our courtyard.  I’d brought a candle and set it on a side table, but she feared the light and blew hard. When darkness prevailed, she laid it all out on the line.  “He’ll kill me … us, both of us.  He’ll keep our son, and we’ll be dead.  Do you hear me, Joe?  Do you understand?  He only cares about Chris, his grandson.  His legacy.”

“What about Edwardo?”

“Chris is the firstborn grandchild.  Chris will inherit Casa Blanca.  Chris means everything to the old man.”

“But why?  Why Chris?  I don’t understand a damn thing.”

“I’ll start on the day we met.”

“Fine, but don’t I know that already?”

“This won’t be easy, Joe.”

I turned my chair to face Boots until our knees nearly touched. I reached out and held my wife’s hands.  “Go on.  Say what you have to say.”

“Do you remember a boy named Peter?”

I shook my head.

“How about a woman named Elsa?”

“Elsa.”  I thought long and hard.  “A big lady?  Gray hair?”

“That’s right.”

“Wait!  Wait a minute.”

I thought my head might explode, and I pressed above my ears with the heels of my hands.  I squinted my eyes as if that would bring the whole business to light.  Sweat trickled, and I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs until a vague memory of a desert, a kid with sandy hair, a hot metal wagon, and … two girls began to appear. 

I turned my eyes toward Boots.  “You’re one of the girls in the wagon, aren’t you?”

My wife nodded.

“Martha and Boots.”

She gripped my hands tighter.

A memory of Martha on the front steps of a house, my father’s house.  Casa Blanca.  “Oh, God.  Where’s Martha.”

“She’s a … she works at the local cantina.”

I closed my eyes to the memory of a young woman being manhandled by … my father.  Carlos Sanchez—El Capitán—his hand between her legs.  Edwardo had used her in the outbuilding.  How many others?  How many times? The captain had taken me in, and called me his son, and I was proud of who I’d become.  But I’d been taken in by a monster, a heathen who kept slaves and treated women like whores.  But there was more.  I needed to hear it all.

Again, I stared up at Boots.  “Wait.  There was another boy.”

“Lester.”

“Where …”

“Lester and Peter were sold to the Escobar family.  I haven’t seen them since we arrived nearly three years ago.”

“So, there’s just you and me.”

“Yes.”

“And Chris.”

“Yes.”

“What about Jimmy and Ollie and Charles?”

“Taken and brought to this place.  Same as us, Joe.”

“But Papá.  I don’t understand.”

My mind whirled with too much information;  Three years a slave.  Lester, Martha, and little Peter.  Gone.  Sold.  I remember a little girl—the pretty one.  Fiery red hair and blue eyes.  I stared at my wife and hoped I was wrong.  “How … how old are you?”

“What do you think?”

“Oh, God.  You were only fourteen, weren’t you?”

Boots only stared.  She said nothing, and though math wasn’t my strongest subject in school, simple addition and subtraction weren’t a problem.  I married Boots two years ago.  She was a child, a little girl who should’ve been wearing pretty bows in her hair, but she’d married a man she barely knew, and that’s why she’d been so distant in the bedroom. It took months before she was comfortable in our marriage bed.

Lord Almighty. I’d been married at sixteen, had a son at seventeen, and my young wife was with child once again.  “I’m sorry, Boots.”

“What do you mean?  Sorry for what?”

“Everything.”

*

Chapter 8 ~ Hoss

Sometimes I felt down in the mouth and couldn’t pull myself out.  I’d get so dang low that no one and no words could pull me back.  I’d heard the word melancholy mentioned once when Joe suffered the consequences of his abductors, and maybe that’s what I had now.  And though I tried to not let anything show around Pa or Adam, it was hard, and that’s when one of them would notice I was off my feed and say something that should’ve made me feel better, but nothing did. 

My young brother had been missing for so long that most people assumed he was dead, but I couldn’t bring myself to cut them ties and believe he was gone forever.  That was a hard pill to swallow, and I wasn’t ready to give up everything I believed.  Little Joe was alive. I could feel it, and I didn’t care what no one else said.  I knew different.

*

~ Joe

“We need to get out of here.”

“Oh, Joe.”

Worry filled her eyes.  My wife was frightened, and I couldn’t blame her.  I felt the same, but I wouldn’t let her know.  I had to be the strong one if we were going to leave Casa Blanca alive.  If it was just me, escaping like Ollie and Charles would be a breeze compared to taking a wife and baby along.  A lot of planning would be involved, but I already had an idea.

We were babies raising babies.  If we made it out of here and ever ended up back on the Ponderosa, that’s what Pa would say.  “Babies raising babies.”  Would my father consider me a disappointment?

When I went to work the next morning, I asked about Ollie, but Jim, who I thought was a friend, said the kid had decided to move on.  There was no mention of escape.  “People do that, José.  Hired hands come and go all the time.”  Was Jim part of the charade?  Could I trust anyone other than Boots? 

If I wanted to stay alive, I had to put all my worries out of my mind.  Busting Mustangs was serious business, and I wasn’t ready to land on my head a second time.  I saddled the first horse of a very long day, but not even the nastiest mount could take my mind off Boots and the baby.  I feared for us all.

Papá stopped by around midday.  “How are things going, Boys?”  I couldn’t find my voice and let Jim take the lead.  My so-called father was the last person I wanted to talk to.

“Good, Sir.  We’ve each ridden six this morning.  We’re right on track.”

Papá reached out and shook Jim’s hand.  “Good job, Young Man.” Then, he looked at me.  “You have nothing to say to your father today?”

“Just tired, I guess.”  Papá took me aside.  He reached for my hand with his right and patted my shoulder with his left.  “I’m proud of you, Son, but nothing good comes from pushing yourself too hard.”

“We’ll have this bunch ready by the end of the week.”

“That’s good but remember what I said.”

“Yessir.”

“Oh.  I almost forgot why I came down. Carlotta wants you to bring Elizabeth and that boy of yours up to the house for supper tonight.”

I balked at his request.  “Tonight isn’t good.  I’m sure Sofia has started  dinner by now and—” 

“Never mind that.  We’ll expect you at seven.”

When Papá rode off, I let my knees go limp and dangled my arms over the corral fence and tried to think what I’d tell Boots, and when Jimmy came to stand by my side, he began to laugh.  “You’re really tied in with that family, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.  We’re tied in all right.”

I left the corral early.  Boots wouldn’t be happy, but we had to keep up appearances until I set my plan in motion.  Ollie and Charlie stole horses.  That was a mistake, but what other choice did they have?  A man on foot without a penny to his name wouldn’t last a week, and if Papá had the liberals out looking, those boys were in dire straits.  Since I wasn’t even sure where we were, I knew we were south of the Ponderosa and figured all we had to do was head north, and we’d end up back in the territories.  If we were lucky, we’d find a town with a US Marshal and a telegraph.  If we weren’t lucky, we’d end up dead.

Boots had been well into her story before I realized who I was, that I was a boy named Joe Cartwright, and that I had a family back in the States.  When she said we’d been living at Casa Blanca for over three years, I could barely put my thoughts together.

What had Pa and my brothers gone through?  They must think I was dead and had been buried in an unmarked grave, but they’d never have any answers unless I made my way back to the Ponderosa.  Introductions would be first on my list, but Boots and I had to talk.  We had decisions to make.

A man named Sanchez had taken me under his wing,  but why me?  Why not Lester or Peter or Jim or Ollie? And now that I knew what kind of man he was, I didn’t want any part of his world.  The accident had changed everything. My name was Joe Cartwright, and I wanted my old life back.

By the time I rode up to our casita, Boots was taking clothes off the line and laying them in her wicker basket.  When she heard me enter the yard, she looked up.  “You’re home early.”

I dismounted the gray that Papá had given me for my last birthday.  Though it wasn’t my real birthday, it was the date he and Carlotta had the papers drawn up that officially made me their son.  José Sanchez, son of Carlos and Carlotta Sanchez, and brother of Edwardo, Luis, and Elena.  I didn’t belong here.  I had another family, a family I’d been born into.

Boots wasn’t happy about our supper plans, but when Papá said come, we went.  I couldn’t bear the thought of consequences.  Chris would be well taken care of, but I didn’t want to think of what could happen to my wife.  Being young and beautiful, she could end up like Martha, and I’d never let that happen.

*

With a wide smile, Maria answered the door.  “Hola, Señor.  Missy Elizabeth.  Entra!” 

Maria was always glad to see us although, like Carlotta, she liked Boots more than me, but I didn’t care.  She always made the three of us feel welcome.  Elena and Luis were quick to grab Chris and drag him out to the courtyard where everyone was seated and waiting for us to arrive.

By the time we made our way outside, Papá and Carlotta were all over Chris.  Tickling and pinching and finding him the best thing around made me cringe.  I didn’t want anyone touching my son but his mother and I, but we had to continue the game until our escape.

Even though I’d devised a plan, I hadn’t filled Boots in.  We needed time to sit and talk, and having supper with Papá had canceled those plans until we could be alone tonight.  Our tree would have to keep one more secret.

Book 4

Changes for Hoss and Changes for Joe

Chapter 1 ~ Hoss

Local saloons were the same everywhere.  Beer and whiskey, fancy women and cards.  A man’s paradise.  The drive began tomorrow, and Adam and I were in town picking up the last of the supplies.  “Just one beer.  I’m too dang dry to ride home.”

“Any excuse will do, won’t it, Younger Brother?” 

“I’m buyin’.”

“I’m in.”

After loading the buckboard, Adam and I headed toward the Silver Dollar.  We hadn’t been to the Bucket of Blood in years.  That was Little Joe’s favorite hangout, but tonight, I felt like something different.  I snagged my brother’s arm and turned him toward Joe’s saloon. 

“You serious?”

“I sure am, Big Brother.  Sometimes a man needs a change.”

*

~ Joe

The hut was small and dark, and the two guards who stood outside had orders to keep me from running.  I’d been separated from my wife and child and sent away from Casa Blanca for betraying the family.  I didn’t know how Papá found out I’d overheard my so-called brother, Edwardo, but it was clear that he wasn’t happy and didn’t trust me any longer.

“I took you in.  I made you part of my family, and you betray me in such a way that I can no longer look you in the eye.  You have disgraced the name Sanchez, and I will forever be looked upon as a fool, an easy target.  The humiliation will follow me for the rest of my days.”

I wasn’t expected to respond … or maybe I was.  The slap across the left side of my face was brutal.  Papá was beside himself with rage, and I believe he had to hold back or he would’ve done considerable damage to the boy he called son. There’d been stories of beatings and whippings so a slap meant nothing compared to what could happen if Papá were to lose his temper and have Javier take charge of disciplining his adopted son.

No one talked about Boots and Chris.  I didn’t know where they were or if they were still alive.  After being cast out of the family, I was told nothing.  I was blindfolded and driven to this place.  Whether we drove in circles or maintained a direct route, I’d be the last to know.  Maybe I was a mile from the house.  Maybe I was one hundred miles.  I just didn’t know.

I’d been given a cow and five chickens.  I had a garden I kept weed-free for lack of anything else to do with my time.  A bed stood along one wall, and a table and two chairs filled the middle of my dirt-floored home.  My days as a wrangler were over and so were the clothes I wore.  A white shirt and thin, cotton trousers, and a pair of sandals rather than my well-worn boots was Papá’s uniform of choice.  I wasn’t allowed to walk more than twenty feet from the thatched-roofed hut.

Boots and I had been reckless and discussed our situation outside.  That was a mistake.  Anyone could’ve overheard our conversation, and someone must have done just that and reported back to Papá.  I’d been a fool to think I wasn’t being watched.

Without my family, I didn’t have much to live for.  I didn’t want Papá to raise my son.  I knew too much about him and Edwardo.  My boy was young and impressionable, and I didn’t want them teaching Chris to follow in their footsteps. 

Though I don’t remember getting thrown from the half-broke Mustang, that was the beginning of my descent into hell.  Except for my wife, everything else had been a lie.  My whole existence at Casa Blanca had been a lie.

*

Chapter 2 ~ Hoss

I flipped my stirrup up on Chubby’s saddle to tighten my cinch and asked the dreaded question.  “Did you believe anything he said?”  My brother was faster than me and was already mounting Sport. 

“It’s pretty farfetched, Hoss.”

“But what if it’s true.”

I never took my eyes off Adam after the kid started his story.  I was certain my brother wasn’t buying, but Adam was hard to convince sometimes.  If there was a chance that his account of the last few months was true, I’d ride out in the morning.

By the time we got home from the saloon, I was anxious to sit down and plow through the whole miserable tale with Pa.  He’d be more apt to listen than Adam, and he might even encourage me to mount my horse and take off as soon as sunrise.

*

~ Joe

Though I’m not sure how many weeks or months had passed, it had been a while.  The weather didn’t change much and the seasons were hard to distinguish, but time marched on, and I did what I could to survive in my little slice of the world.

In the beginning, I ate a lot of eggs.  A couple for breakfast and a couple for supper.  I ate the veggies when they were ripe on the vine, but I missed eating meat and bread.  I didn’t have a gun so hunting was out, and even if I grew wheat, baking a loaf of bread seemed an impossible task.  Paying more attention to Hop Sing in the kitchen would’ve helped me survive my time alone in the hut.

Since my old life had been revealed, I missed my Ponderosa family.  Before Boots filled me in on the truth I’d buried somewhere deep in my mind, I didn’t know I had another family and missing them was never a problem.  Now that I knew, I wanted Pa and my brothers to know my wife and child, but I wanted my old life back too.

But worst of all was not having Boots by my side.  She was such a good person, so kind and generous, and so loving toward Chris and me.  What would happen to our baby when he or she was born?  I feared for Beth, and I feared for my children.

*

Chapter 3 ~  Hoss

Adam and I sat down with Pa and hashed out the story we’d heard in the saloon.  The fireplace burned hotter than usual, or maybe I was just nervous and wanted our father to believe every word we said.

“I’m not sure you’ll remember, but three or four years ago, we hired a man named Oliver Peterson and his older brother Jake as drovers for our spring drive.  They were good men, but that don’t really matter.  Here’s the thing.  The younger one, Ollie, got hisself kidnapped and taken down to Mexico.  He worked for a man named Sanchez and swears that Little Joe had met the same fate.”

“I don’t understand, Son.”

“Let me finish.  Ollie said he weren’t sure if the kid he saw was Joe, but after him and another guy escaped this man’s ranchero, he thought more about the kid with wild, curly hair.”

“I ain’t for certain, Hoss, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure I worked at the same place as your younger brother.  Three of us busted broncs.  I should’ve asked, but you have to understand the situation.  None of us said nothing to nobody.  We had good reason to be scared, and the only chatter was that of horses and saddles and such.”

“And that’s what he said, Pa.  Ninety-nine percent sure.”

*

~ Joe

With such a modest amount of food at my disposal, I couldn’t keep my weight up.  I wasn’t a big fella to begin with, and I remember having the same problem once before, but with my family’s help, I came back to myself.  It wasn’t that long ago and then, after hearing about Pa’s bid on the timber contract, I took off like a scared little boy.  I didn’t want to die, but what was happening now?  Rather than being shot or hanged by Jake Milton’s henchmen, I’d die a slow and painful death in a shack far from home.

Traveling south had been the biggest mistake of my life.  If I had the strength, I’d kick myself for thinking my family couldn’t protect me.  Pa always said that I should think first, but those men had broken into the house twice already.  What would’ve kept them from coming back and finishing me off?

The next day, I walked toward the lean-to to milk the cow, and I’m not sure why, but I looked up and saw two riders cresting the hill.  After staring a bit longer, I realized it was Papá—his tall prominent hat was a dead giveaway—and Boots, my wife, my red-headed wife, and in the early morning light, her loose hair flooded down her back and bounced with every stride the horse took.

So many thoughts raced through my mind that I couldn’t have care less about the damn cow, and I ventured back to the house and flopped down on my rumpled excuse for a bed.  How could she leave me for him?  He was an old man, an old man who didn’t just want my son.  Now I find out that he wanted my wife too.

I cried that day.  I cried because I’d lost everything that meant anything.  I cried because I couldn’t fight back. Like a night when clouds roll in and block the sun and darkness comes before it should, I felt those same clouds trying to block any reason for me to go on living.

*

Chapter 4 ~ Hoss

“I’m going, Pa.  Nothing else need be said.”

The worry lines etching Pa’s forehead were prominent.  He didn’t want me taking off on a wild goose chase, and I understood that, but even if it didn’t make sense, I weren’t going to listen.  Joe was at that Sanchez place.  I could feel it in my bones and the sooner I got down there; the sooner I could bring my brother home. By lunchtime that same day, Pa had thrown caution to the wind, and that missing spark of hope showed bright in my father’s dark eyes. 

“Go!  Find him!  Bring my boy home.”

*

~ Joe

I wasn’t a heathen, and Hoss would have my hide if I treated any of God’s creatures with disrespect.  I turned the cow loose to graze on her own.  I couldn’t be bothered with daily feeding and milking. The plants and vines that bore vegetables were stripped clean as was any energy I could muster.  I turned to my bed and slept. 

Book 5

The Long Trail

Chapter 1 ~ Hoss

I’d taken this route once before and remembered some of the landmarks along the way.  It wasn’t an easy ride, and there was always the fear of an Indian attack, but any other option would’ve taken too much time.

As soon as Pa gave me the ‘okay,’ I’d gone back to the Bucket of Blood and talked to Ollie.  He was pretty much a regular these days.  Something must’ve happened down in Mexico, but I weren’t about to bring up nothing too personal.  I joined him at his table and started asking questions about Sanchez and Joe.

“Everyone in Northern Mexico has heard of Carlos Sanchez and Casa Blanca.  He’s a big fish down there, and I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding the place, but you’re gonna need help.  You can’t just ride in, grab Joe, and ride out.  You’re gonna need a plan.”

“Need a little excitement in your life, Ollie?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You know the lay of the land.”

“If he catches me, I’m a dead man.”

“I ain’t gonna let that happen.”

“Against my better judgment ….”

“Thanks, Buddy.”

And so it was that me and Ollie Peterson rode out the next morning.  I bought him a grain-fed horse, part thoroughbred, one with a heap of endurance.  We had a long way to ride, and he needed a decent mount.

He was a little worse for wear, but the ride and the glaring sun would sober him up in no time.  We didn’t talk much.  There wasn’t much to say that hadn’t already been said.  He wasn’t ready to talk about his life at Casa Blanca, and that was fine.  Deep down, I don’t think I wanted to hear too many details of my young brother’s life in captivity.  I was scared of hearing the worst of the worst.  I only wanted to find my brother alive.

*

~ Joe

Scrambled eggs.  Fried eggs.  I’d eaten my fill.

*

Chapter 2 ~ Hoss

We tried not to ride our mounts into the ground.  Not only did I rent Ollie a horse, but I didn’t want to put Chubby through such a grueling ordeal, so I rented a sturdy mount for myself.  The days were long and after weeks in the saddle, I wondered if Ollie regretted making the trip for a kid he barely knew. 

Once a week, we stayed in a hotel or a boarding house.  We needed to clean up some, and eating a good hot meal we didn’t have to cook ourselves was part of the deal.  The rest of the time, we stuck to the trail, slept on the ground, and ate enough bacon and beans to kill a man twice over.

It was late in the season.  Thanksgiving and Christmas were weeks away, but since we’d ridden toward the Mexican border, the weather didn’t hinder our travels.  It rarely rained. And we were too far south for snow.  The country was dry and the ground was cracked, and I thanked the Almighty we weren’t making the trip in the dead of summer. 

A little whirlwind ahead reminded me of the army captain or major or … shoot, I don’t remember what he called himself, but he told me about a wagon that gathered up orphan kids and headed south.  It made me wonder if that had been Joe’s fate.  My brother was smarter than that, but anything can happen when no one has your back.

By the time we reached the border, a man stepped out of the check station and brought Ollie and me to a halt.  I knew the routine and reached for the wallet in my hip pocket.

“Two dollar to cross.  Two dollar a day for escort.”

I wanted to roll my eyes but thought better of it.  “That won’t be necessary.  My buddy knows the way.”

Waving his hat over his head, Manuel guided his horse from behind the small shack. “Señor Hoss!”

“Manuel.  Are you our escort?”

“Sí, Señor.  I am your loyal escolta.“

“I’ll be darn.  Okay, let’s go!”

*

~ Joe

I shivered and slipped the serape up over my shoulders.  Nights had become cool, and I tended to pull my knees toward my chest and curl into a tight ball to sleep.  I hadn’t chopped enough wood to cook eggs twice a day and heat the house at night.  I only had myself to blame, but I’d grown too weak to do much of anything.

I tried not to picture Papá bedding my wife, but the vision came nightly.  After the household was safe in bed, Papá would creep down the hall to my old bedroom and climb on top of my wife.  By now, she would’ve grown accustomed to his visits, and perhaps she had devised numerous ways to keep him contented.

I prayed our boy would never know that his mother had fallen from grace and turned to his grandfather for comfort.  The thought brought tears to my eyes, but it was too late to wish our lives could be different.  Boots and Chris had a new beginning up at the big house, and my life was as good as over.

*

Chapter 3 ~ Hoss

“That’s it, Hoss.  That’s Casa Blanca.”

We dismounted and stood near an outcropping of rocks a half mile away.  Even from this distance, the house looked large enough to house a small army. 

“The sentry out front has been instructed to shoot on sight.”

“You got better eyes than I do, Ollie.  I can barely see that fella.”

“That’s cause I know the routine.  I know how things work.”

“You two going up against Señor Sanchez?”

Even though I told Manuel where we were headed, I’m not sure he understood the seriousness of the situation.  “How do you know the man?”

“Everyone in Mexico knows the Señor.  He highly respected.”

“Sorry, Pal, but I can’t agree with you.  A man who owns slaves don’t deserve respect in my book.”

“Slaves?”

“Yeah.  Ollie, my little brother, and I don’t know how many more.”

“I ain’t interested in no gunfight.”

I clapped Manuel on the shoulder.  “You’re free to leave anytime.”

“But Señor.  You will die.”

“No, not me.  We’ll be careful.”

*

~ Joe

My life had become meaningless, and I feared the clouds lay heavy, and the shadow of death was closing in.  If I were a Paiute brave, I’d start my death walk, but that’s not how things work for a man like me.  No man is an island.  Pa used to read, and now I understand how loneliness can steal a man’s will to live. The life that should’ve been mine was gone forever.

*

Chapter 4 ~ Hoss

“When Charles and I escaped, your brother and his wife lived in a little casita south of the big house.”

“His what?”

Ollie’s eyes rounded when he realized what he’d said.  “You wouldn’t know, would you?  Your brother has a wife and child.”

“No ….”

“I’m sorry, Hoss, but we need to think about taking all three.”

“Damn, Little Brother.  If anyone can make life difficult.  I should’ve known.  Joe never could go five minutes without falling in love.  Now we’ve really got to do some thinking.”

“How’d you talk me into this anyway?”

I smiled at my new best friend.  “Just lucky, I guess.”

*

~ Joe

When I tipped my canteen, and the last few drops hit my tongue, I didn’t have the strength to walk out the front door and take ten steps to the well.  Even though I was aware of the consequences and aware of how much I’d wasted away, the thrill of living had passed me by.  Sleep would come first, and if all went as planned, I‘d never wake up.  I wasn’t long for this world, and I was grateful that my mind could rest.

My only regret was that Pa and my brothers would mourn without knowing how or why I died, and that wasn’t fair.  They should have the truth, but there was no way I could let them know where I was or how sorry I was for leaving the ranch and ending up a damn slave. 

Book 6

Can Miracles Happen?

Chapter 1 ~ Hoss

Pa and Adam were on their way, and I was grateful for the help.  As soon as we found a telegraph office, I sent a wire.

Ben Cartwright, Ponderosa Ranch, NV.  (stop)

Joe’s alive.  (stop)

Can’t travel.  (stop)

Hold up in Las Cruces.  (stop)

Need help.  (stop)

Hoss. (stop)

Ollie chose to stay and lend a hand if trouble showed up, and since we’d crossed back into the territories, Manuel had to get back to his post.  Though he made sure we were settled in the only hotel in Las Cruces, his duty as Mexican escort was finished.  Though I’d paid him two dollars a day, he showed exceptional courage during the scuffle with Sanchez, and I thought he deserved a bonus.  I thanked him and shook his hand and then handed him one hundred dollars.  The way he pumped my hand in gratitude was worth every penny.

While I joined Beth next to Joe’s sick bed, Ollie pulled a wooden chair up to the front window, and though none of us thought we’d been followed, we couldn’t be sure.  Sanchez had a huge operation, but neither of us knew who’d be loyal to Casa Blanca, or who’d run as fast as they could. 

I called it grab and run, and when a small child is stuck inside a small room, he needs to be entertained.  Since Beth was afraid to go to the mercantile for supplies alone, I left Ollie in charge and went down the stairs with her.  And since the hotel was above the local store, we didn’t have to venture outside.  If someone had followed the six of us out of Mexico, they’d have to call us out into the street to shoot us.  Beth had no funds of her own and was embarrassed to take money from me.  After telling her how ridiculous that sounded, she broke down and covered her face with both hands.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean nothing.  “You’re my brother’s wife, and anything I have is yours.  That’s the way we operate.”

“I’m sorry.  I’m just so tired and … and I don’t know if Joe will ever recover.”

“Don’t worry your pretty face about my brother.  He’s a fighter.  Once he knows he’s away from Sanchez and that you’re by his side, you won’t be able to keep up with the progress he’ll make.”

With swollen, red eyes, Beth looked up at me.  “You heard what that doctor said.”

“Yeah, I did, but he don’t know Joe like I do.  I told you already.  That boy will fight his way back.  You’ll see.”  After taking her hand, I led her out of the room and down the flight of stairs to pick up food and things for the baby.  I hoped we were back on track.

Except for brief trips downstairs, Beth held Little Joe’s hand and rattled on about how sorry she was.  What a little gal like her had to apologize for was beyond me, but it was their business, not mine.  Mostly, I played with Chris or took my turn staring out the window to make sure no one was staring back, and because it took forever to get from the Ponderosa to Las Cruces, we had to stay cooped up together for a long time. 

My brother couldn’t travel anyway.  The roving doctor said if the kid survived, we shouldn’t count on a full recovery, that he’d never be the same boy, but I didn’t listen to words like that.  Doc Martin would never sound so grim about a patient’s mending.  He’d give us hope until there weren’t none at all, and I still had hope.

Joe was awful puny, and we did our best to get spoonfuls of water and soup down him every hour.  The doctor said that’s the only thing that would help.  There weren’t no medicine that cured starvation.

While Joe lay sleeping, Beth would fill me in on little bits of their life together.  Every time she spoke the scenario seemed more shocking than anything she’d said before.  The accident and the marriage.  The man she called Papá.  The big house.  The adoption.  What would she come up with next?  Ollie sat beside me and heard the same things I did, and he’d nod his head as though nothing she said shocked him.

The hotel owner/maid wasn’t happy about the amount of laundry we sent downstairs until I offered to pay extra, and she quit her constant complaining.  Because Joe soiled his sheets as much as the baby soiled his diaper, Beth rigged up a larger cloth diaper for Joe.  Though he took the food and water without problems he still hadn’t opened his eyes and couldn’t be blamed for accidents he couldn’t control.

Pa wired a date, and I sat outside the depot on the day they were to arrive.  Schedules were often upset by Indian war parties, inclement weather, or breakdowns.  I prayed none of that would happen and at about four that afternoon, the distant cloud of dust told me the coach was drawing near.

Pa looked worse for wear, but he forced a smile after stepping down from the stage.  “Good to see you, Son.”

“Good to see you too, Pa.”

Adam exited next, and the two of us shook hands.  “Glad you came, Brother.”

“How’s the kid?”

“Alive.”

Adam nodded.  He understood the entire story from just one word. I couldn’t give any more details at the depot, but as soon as we were upstairs, I’d tell them everything they needed to know.  I didn’t trust anyone but my family and Ollie. 

Pa would have the most trouble.  Seeing Joe for the first time in three years would send a stabbing pain through his heart.  His youngest boy wasn’t the son he remembered.  Angular bones jutted forth like broken twigs.  Lips that used to be filled with laughter were cracked and dry and as pale as death against his ashen skin. We sailed through the mercantile and up the stairs to our room.  Even though Pa and Adam could use some cleaning up, Joe was first on their list.  Anything else would come later.

Pa’s reaction to a young lady holding his son’s hand was minimal, and he didn’t ask why.  He pulled a chair up on the opposite side of Joe’s bed and did the same.  If a man could be healed by giving his hands over to loved ones, Joe would be cured in an instant.  There was a blunder waiting to happen, and when young Chris toddled toward me, I leaned down and lifted him onto my lap. 

“Pa.  We need to do introductions.”  I didn’t mention anything in the wire, but since we were all crammed into one small room, it had to be done.  My father glanced up as if this was a bad time, but it weren’t.  “I’d like you to meet your grandson.”

Pa’s eyes shot back up to me and after dropping Joe’s hand on the bed, he stood to his feet.  “What did you say?”

“This here’s Chris.  Your grandson.  And holding Joe’s hand is his wife, Beth.”

Beth turned from Joe and looked up at her father-in-law.  Pa could be an overpowering presence, but after the shock of my words wore off, his features softened, and he reached for the girl’s hand. “I’m Ben Cartwright.  I’m pleased to meet you.”

I glanced over at Adam, who had his hand ready to cover his eyes and waited for a different reaction from our father, but when there was no outburst or hint of disappointment, my older brother relaxed and was next to step up and introduce himself as Joe’s eldest brother.

Introductions went smoother than I had anticipated, and I was thrilled with the outcome.  All we needed now was for Joe to open his eyes and join the living.

*

Chapter 2

Two days passed, and the only notable change was that Ollie and Adam and Pa and I spent countless hours in the room that the four of us shared so Beth and Joe could have some time alone.  Though my father was reluctant to leave his boy in the hands of a girl that was no more than a kid herself, he was a trooper and he gave them the time they deserved. 

Pa and Beth took turns sitting at his bedside.  I even talked little Chris into sleeping in the big-boy bed with me.  He and I had become pretty good pals, and the little shaver wasn’t scared at all about leaving his mama behind.

Beth was in charge of Joe’s eating and drinking, and rather than butting in and taking over, Pa let her carry on.  It wasn’t like our father to play second fiddle if one of his sons was sick, but I had to give him credit.  He handled the situation better than I expected.

We had supper brought up and even though we were back in the territories, beans and tortillas and something called burritos, which quickly became my favorite dish, were sent up for the five of us.  Chris would share with his ma. 

Just as I lifted my fork with a healthy scoop of burrito, a sound came from across the room.  Pa sat with Joe.  He’d chosen to let Beth eat first, but when she heard her husband’s voice, she pushed her meal aside, flew to his bed, and called out his name.

“Joe.  Joseph.”

Pa tried too.

“Joe.  Little Joe.”

When Beth gave Pa a funny look, I wanted to laugh.  She hadn’t heard our nickname for the kid, but I had a feeling she might use it when he least expected.  I wanted to be around when she did.

“Boots?”

“I’m right here, Joe.”

“Where ….”

“We’re not in Mexico anymore.  We’re free.”

“Free?”

“Your brother got us out.  Papá is dead.”

“Papá ….”

“You rest.  We’ll talk more later.”

Even though Joe’s voice was thready, we all stopped to listen.  Even Chris seemed to understand this was an important moment.  I reached out and set the boy on my lap, but his eyes never left his father.

“Wanna go see Papa?”

“Papa.”

“That’s right.   Go see Mama.”

“See Mama.”

I patted his backside, and he took off across the room.  He was a cute little feller.  He had curls like his father and blue eyes like his ma, a lady’s man in the making.

*

Chapter 3

As frail as he was, Joe was able to sit up and feed himself although the doc said soup only for the next few days.  His body couldn’t handle more just yet.  Joe seemed fine with that, but something wasn’t right.  Both me and Adam noticed a big difference in the kid.  Since he’d become more coherent, he would leave Beth out of the conversations he had with Pa.  It weren’t right.  Even when she’d sit Chris on the bed next to him, he smiled and played with his son but acted as though his wife wasn’t even there.

I liked Beth, and I didn’t understand why Joe was giving his wife the cold shoulder.  He seemed okay when he was coming to, but as soon as he was fully awake, his attitude changed.  It didn’t help that the room was full of people who looked on like a kettle of hawks.  He had no privacy, but we didn’t want to be seen milling around town.  Pa noticed too and he pulled me aside. 

“Gather everyone and let’s leave them alone.”

“Good idea, Pa”

By using some lame excuse, Pa, Adam, Ollie, and I left them to sort things out.  I thought something to eat sounded like a plan, and I bought a plate of churros for us to share and brought a pot of coffee up to our next-door room.  As soon as Joe was well enough, we’d head home, but that wasn’t going to be anytime soon.

*

~ Joe

“Talk to me, Joe.”

I couldn’t look at my wife much less talk to her.  I knew what she’d done, and I wanted no part of her lies.  I would take my son to the Ponderosa and pay her way home to her ma and pa.  I considered that more than generous for a woman who’d whore herself out to an old man just because he had a pocketful of money.  Hell with her.

“I’m tired.  I’d like you to leave.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

I hated stupid questions, but the right words wouldn’t come.  I was bone tired and didn’t have the strength to fight it out with a whore.  Chris was the only person who mattered, and he and I could get along fine without a woman like Boots weighing us down.

I didn’t react when my wife stood and left the room.  Good riddance.  I didn’t want to continue a one-sided conversation, and I guess she didn’t either.   As soon as I got my strength back, I’d fill her in on the plan and be done with her.  That’s the best I could do.

*

Chapter 4 ~ Hoss

Carrying an empty coffee pot, I opened the hotel door, stepped into the hall, and found my sister-in-law sitting on the floor crying.  With her head resting on her knees, she looked up, caught my eye, and dropped her head back down. 

Pa or Adam would’ve been more equipped for the situation I was in now.  I didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with crying women, and I didn’t know the first thing to say, but standing and staring wasn’t working, and I squatted next to my brother’s wife. 

“What in tarnation?”

“I’m sorry, Hoss.”

“What did Joe do to you?”

“He won’t talk to me.  He won’t look at me.  I have a feeling I know why, but….”

“You can tell me.  I won’t hold nothin’ against you.”

The sound of wooden furniture crashing against the tile floor caught my attention, and I raced into Joe’s room.  The bedside chair lay sideways next to my little brother.  “What in tarnation?  What the heck are you doing?”  Wearing nothing but the diaper, I’d forgotten just how scrawny he was—still skin and bones.  “Why are you out of bed?”

“No, Hoss.  You tell me.  Why am I dressed like a baby?  Was this my wife’s idea?  How much more do I have to take from her?  How much more?”

With his eyes welled with tears, my brother tried not to let them fall.  A man didn’t let his emotions get the best of him, but Joe always had a hard time holding back.  If I knew what he was talking about, I’d give him a straight answer.

“Why is this Beth’s fault?  She was only trying to help.”

“Don’t you see?”

“No, I don’t see.”

“I can’t take anymore, Hoss.  I’m done with her.”

I stared down at my little brother.  Even though he tried to push himself up, he didn’t have the strength, and whether he liked it or not, I scooped him up and sat him back on the bed. I straightened the upturned chair and pulled it to the bed and sat beside him.  “Talk to me, Joe.”

*

~ Joe

Hoss was the only one I could tell.  He wouldn’t judge.  He’d listen to every word until I was finished the long, sad story.

“It all began when Ollie and Charles escaped from Casa Blanca ….”

After my account of the last few months was told, I had to lie down and sleep.  The telling was finished, and now my family would understand why I wanted nothing to do with my wife, that the marriage was over, and there was no way I was giving up my son.  End of story.

*

Chapter 5 ~ Hoss

I asked Beth to come with me to the mercantile.  Taking an easy stroll outside would’ve been nice but still out of the question.  If I were by myself, I’d chance it, but not with Joe’s young wife.  She was too much of a target.

“I talked to Joe.  He told me some things about—well, about you and the old man, Sanchez.”

She dropped her head.  “I expected as much.”

“You mean it’s true?”

“Of course not, but I understand why he thinks it is.  That’s what Papá wanted him to believe.”

“Maybe I’m thick in the head, but I don’t understand.”

“Papá wanted Joe to think I was … you know … that I’d left him for the old man.  He planned it that way.  He made us ride by Joe’s place and stop on top of a ridge so that my husband would see us together.  Papá had guards stationed outside Joe’s hut, and they’d laugh and comment about the old man and me.  At least, that’s what Papá told me, and I believed him.  Joe didn’t get to see me or Chris for months, not until you showed up and got us out of there.”

“Now, I understand why he’s carrying on so. Sanchez really did a number on him.”

“The old man threw us together straight away.  I was fourteen and Joe was seventeen.  He thought we had good genes and would produce fine heirs for him to claim as his own, and then when he thought he’d been betrayed, he ripped us apart. He’s an evil human being.”

That wasn’t all.  She talked about Chris, and Papá’s plan for the child’s future, and that part made me want to kill the old guy all over again.

“That’s all past tense, Beth.  All we got to do now is convince Little Joe that you’re still his wife and always have been.  Want me to try?”

“You might as well.  He won’t listen to me.”

After explaining to Adam and Pa the difficulties the young couple was having, my father took over Joe’s food and water intake. The boy’s body was on the mend, and all we had to do now was straighten out his mind.

*

~ Joe

My father looked different somehow, but I couldn’t put my finger on the problem.  A sadness maybe.  A look of pity although I brushed it off.  I was hungry, and Pa brought food.

“You’ve graduated to real food, Son.  Toast and soup.  How does that sound?”

“Really?  I’ve been eating soup for so damn long, I might not remember how to chew.”

Pa wasn’t thrilled with my attitude, but I wasn’t thrilled with anything, not even toast. 

“Let’s see how this goes.”

Pa propped the pillows and helped me sit tall in the bed.  I began feeding myself this week and no longer would I have to be spoon-fed like a baby.  I started with the toast. One bite and then two, and then I came to an abrupt halt.  My stomach revolted, and I nearly bent in half from the violent stab of pain.

My father was quick to realize what happened and pulled me to his chest until the agony subsided.  His hand swept through my tangled mess of hair, and I never wanted him to stop.  I missed my father so much, but I only had myself to blame. 

“I’m sorry, Pa.  I never meant to hurt you.”

“Why, Son?  Why did you feel you had to leave?”

“Old Man Milton would’ve seen me dead.”

“What’s all this about Fred Milton?”

I leaned back so I could see my father’s eyes.  “He’s the one who sent his henchmen.  He warned me, Pa.  Twice over.  I couldn’t take another beating.  I’m a coward, Pa.  A coward and a fool.”

“Son.  No.  None of what you say is true.”

“But it is, Pa.  Why would I lie?”

“You’re confused, Joe.  Jake Milton wasn’t the one who—” 

“Why are you doing this to me, Pa?  Why?”

“Let’s not talk about this anymore today.”

“We have to.  Believe me, Pa.  I’m telling you the truth.”

“You’re mixed up, Son.  Alec Carlson was the man who—”

“No.  You’re wrong.”

The battle was still in full swing, but my father was done talking.  “I want you to lie back.  You need to rest.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Not now, Son.  We’ll talk later.”

Though I wasn’t happy, I did as my father asked, lay back on my pillow, and let Pa cover me with the blanket.  The conversation was over but neither of us was satisfied with the results.  The truth would come to light on a different day.

To my father, I was a disappointment.  I’d run off.  I didn’t trust that Pa and my brothers could keep me safe, and now the damage was done.  The end was near when Hoss and Ollie rushed into the hut.  I remember opening my eyes and seeing my brother kneeling next to the cot.  I thought it was a dream, but it was as real as the toast I just ate.  Hoss had tears in his eyes, and when I smiled, he wiped them away and said something silly, something I should remember but those early days were hit-and-miss.  I didn’t remember much.

Pa leaned back in his chair.  He was in no hurry to leave.  Our father was a worrier, and I’d caused him more distress than my brothers ever had.  But something else was on his mind, and if it was bad, it was time we cleared the air.

“What else is bothering you, Pa?  What else have I done that you think we should discuss?”

“Since you asked.  Yes.  There’s one more thing I’d like to know.”

“Shoot.  I don’t have any secrets.”

“Okay.  You’re a married man now.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You have a wife and a son.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m sure you can understand that I was a bit surprised.”

“I bet you were.”

“Would you like to tell me how all this came about?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“The beginning is always good.”

“It’s like this, Pa ….”  I rolled to my back and laced my fingers together behind my head. “It all began when the horse I rented from Orvis in Virginia City got spooked by a rattler.”

With most of the story told, my eyes grew heavy and I couldn’t go any further.  We’d have to talk another day, but Pa got the gist of the last three years.  Some things weren’t worth telling.  Maybe when I was old and gray thought it would be fun to add some excitement to the conversation, I’d bring up the difficult aspects of living under the watchful eye of Papá, El Capitán. 

I woke with a start.  Jake Milton and the bid for the contract.  Alec Carlson fussing over water rights.  Neither man was a saint, but only one had done me harm, and I had to make sure my father knew which man had forced me to leave the Ponderosa.

“Pa.”

“What’s wrong, Son?”

“I’m fine, but we have to talk.”

Pa stood and poured me a glass of water.  “Let’s sit you up so you can drink.”

“Will you believe me this time?”

“What?  Believe you about what?”

“Jake Milton told his henchmen to kill me if you won the contract.” 

“Oh, Joe.”  My father didn’t sound convinced.

“Oh, Joe what?  He tried twice, Pa.  You always said that the third time’s a charm.”

“You’ve got it all wrong.  It wasn’t Jake Milton, Son.  Roy Coffee argued the fact, but your brothers and I believe it was Alec Carlson, the man who was after our water.”

“No.  You’re wrong.  Believe me Pa, I know.”

“Alec Carlson was sentenced to ten years in the penitentiary for attempted murder.  Your brothers and I testified at his trial.”

“Trust me on this, Pa.  The wrong man is in prison.”

*

Although I wasn’t in the mood for more company, I couldn’t consider my best friend company. He was the only one who understood why I was sending my wife home to her ma and pa, and when he knocked, I agreed to more chitchat.

“Hey, Little Brother.”

“Hi.”

“Feeling better?”

“Some.”

“I told Pa I’d sit with you till suppertime.  Said he had something to discuss with Adam.” 

My brother sat next to the bed, leaned forward, and worried his hands between his thighs. 

“Something wrong?”

“Yeah.  You.”

“Me?”

“You got things all wrong.  Beth had nothing to do with that old man.  He wanted you to think she was his and not yours.  That’s all.”

“You’re wrong, Hoss.”

“Did you see them riding along a ridge?” 

I found the floor more interesting than my brother’s lies, but I tossed out the answer he wanted to hear.  “Yeah.”

“Did you hear the guards laughing?” 

Little Joe looked straight at me.  “How’d you know about that?”

“Beth told me Sanchez planned everything, and those guards were part of the plan.  He wanted you to think the worst.  He wanted you to hate your wife.”

“Why?  What does he get out of it?”

“Chris.  That’s all he ever wanted.  That’s why he forced you two together.  The old man was determined to have an heir. He wanted to ensure his legacy just in case, and Edwardo, apparently he wasn’t a good person.  You know better than I.”

“He was a louse.”

“Yeah, and the little one—.”

“Luis.”

“He didn’t know what might become of him.”

“He’s a good kid.”

“Well, you were a sure thing.  Good genes.  Good features.  You know, all that stuff that makes them school girls chase after you all the time.”

“You’re a funny guy, Hoss. Papá said the same thing, but I don’t think my genes or my looks had anything to do with Papá wanting Chris.”

“I might be funny, but I know people, and … well, all I can say is don’t blame your wife, Little Joe.  She’s innocent in all this.  She loves you.  She didn’t want nothing to do with that old man.”

After listening to Hoss’s rendition, I broke down and cried like a baby.  All this time—for months—I thought Boots had betrayed me.  I wanted to die.  I tried to die and would have if Hoss and his friends hadn’t found me.  I looked up in time to see my brother’s eyes water but he’s better at controlling his emotions than I’ll ever be.  His tears didn’t fall.

“Would you send in my wife?”

*

Chapter 6 ~ Hoss

We started home on a Wednesday.  Joe still wasn’t able to sit a horse, and Pa bought a wagon, a mattress, blankets, and enough pillows that Joe could lie down or prop hisself up and stare at the landscape.  Beth and Chris shared the wagon bed, just like they was sharing my big bed at home.

Ollie had become a true friend, and Pa said he’d always have a place on the Ponderosa.  That’s all he needed to hear, and he agreed to make the journey back to the ranch and take the job as head wrangler until Joe was able to pull his weight and bust broncs on his own.

I always got the job of driving the wagon only this time, I didn’t mind.  I carried precious cargo, and I weren’t gonna let nothing happen to Joe and his family.  All the worrying we’d done in Las Cruces was for nothing.  No one had followed us, or if they had, they gave up and went back to Mexico by the time we loaded up to head home.

Joe told us more of the story during his recovery.  He told us of Elsa and Peter, Lester and Martha, and how he and Beth, otherwise known as Boots, got together.  Joe was quite the storyteller, and when he filled us in on all of the people he’d met during his travels, he opted to leave out the parts that would be too hard for our pa to stomach.  Even though me and Adam knew he wasn’t telling the whole story, it was a kindness only Joe could pull off and make the last three years sound believable.

It took weeks to get home, and we were all growing weary of dust and long days on the road.  Every so often we’d hit a decent-sized town and stop for dinner and a soft bed.  Otherwise, it was beans and bacon and the hard ground, except for Joe.  The kid had it easy.

When seasons change, the weather changes too.  From hot days and cool nights to cold all the time.  Pa bought more blankets for the group in the wagon and as we neared Carson, it began to snow.  We’d almost made it.  I guess you could say we’d been lucky to get this far.  I pulled my hat lower on my forehead and chucked the team, but the horses were tired and weren’t interested in going any faster.

*

~ Joe

Chris and I tried to catch snowflakes on our tongues.  He giggled the whole time, and it wasn’t long before his mother and I were doing the same.  Grandpa rode next to the wagon and looked on.  Having a little shaver (Hoss’s words) living on the Ponderosa was a dream come true for Pa, but I don’t believe he ever thought his youngest would be the first to marry, especially at my age.  Adam had twelve years on me, but finding the right girl had eluded him.  Hoss too.

If Jake Milton didn’t have it in for Pa, I never would’ve met Boots.  My father once said that everything happens for a reason, and maybe he was right about the past three years.  Now that the bad times were part of our past, and Boots and I were back on track, I couldn’t imagine my life without my wife and child, and once we were home, we could move forward and enjoy what life had to offer.

*

Chapter 7 ~ Hoss

“We’re here, Joseph.”

I was never so glad to be home in my entire life.  We’d been away from the ranch for so long, I hoped the house and outbuildings were still standing.  Pa had left Cecil—our foreman—in charge, and at first glance, the place looked like a million bucks.

We missed Thanksgiving, and Christmas was three days away.  We didn’t have a tree and without a miracle, no one would open a single present this year.  It seemed a shame, especially for little Chris.  He deserved a proper holiday, but time was short, and the minute Pa talked to Cecil, the list of chores would pile up one on top of the other until we were caught up. 

*

~ Joe

“This is it, Sweetheart.  This is home.”

Although I’d had weeks to recuperate and was beginning to feel human again, I still looked like a winter twig.  The doctor in Las Cruces said it would take time, and even though I thought he was a quack, he might’ve gotten that part right.   I wouldn’t be busting broncs anytime soon.  Winter would give me the time I needed to sleep and eat and see if the old Joe was lurking about somewhere inside.           

“I never expected anything so grand.”

“Did you think I was a bum, living in a shack somewhere in the wilds of Nevada?”

“Somewhere in the middle, I guess.”

“Then I hope this is a nice surprise.”

Pa handed his reins to Adam and reached into the wagon for Chris.  “Come on, Little Fella.  I have someone for you to meet.  If you get on his good side, I bet he’ll pull out his cookie jar and pour you a tall glass of milk.”

Grandpa won Chris over on day one, and he’s continued to entertain and enjoy his first grandson.  The boy had ignited a fire that made Pa feel like a young man again, and he took advantage by making our son a priority in his life.  It took some of the pressure off me.  I could’ve had the entire family bugging me to eat and drink.  Instead, they were all too busy charming my young son. 

Epilogue: 

~ Hoss

“A little to the left.”

“You say that every year, Older Brother.”

“And you always argue with me. Younger Brother.”

*

~ Joe

The more things change, the more they stay the same.  I’ve heard this line all my life.  Adam gives Hoss orders, and Hoss snaps back as he moves the tree into place.  It’s a comforting sound that says I’m home and free from the ties of Casa Blanca.  It tells me that I can live happily ever after with the people I love.  It tells me that my wife and child have been welcomed into the family and subsequent children will be cherished with the same love I felt all my life.  Even though Beth had lost our second child while she was held captive at the big house, we wouldn’t grieve forever.  The good overpowered the bad, and we set our sights on the future rather than dwelling on the past.

Some would say I missed three years of my life, but that’s not true.  It may sound silly, but I gained a lifetime of experience.  I learned that running away wasn’t a good option and that the wrong man went to prison because I wasn’t around to testify.  I can’t make up the missing years, but I can right a wrong and pray he can forgive the Cartwright family.

I will share my father’s values with my wife and son, and we’ll be better for it.  In time, Boots and I will have our own home and hopefully, more children.  Hoss and Adam both have sweethearts and maybe something will come of that.  I’m healing more every day, and Doc Martin says if I keep up the good work that by summer, the inadequacies I feel now will begin to subside.  I may never be the man I once was.  Starvation takes away and doesn’t always replace, but I’ll be able to carry on like a normal person.

I’m happy with the way things are, and I’m happy to have a wife and family who love me.  Who could ask for more?

The End

6 – 2025