Luck was on our Side

by jfclover

~~~

My father was a worrier, and it wasn’t something he could hide.  It was written all over his face, and what made things worse was that I was usually the cause of that worry.  I never meant to be that kind of son.  I tried to do what was best for the family, but I always seemed to mess up or get myself into a fix I couldn’t get out of.  This time, the cause of Pa’s worry began over five years ago, but we were naïve to the evil man who sought revenge.

My wound was healing, but I still had a throbbing pain that refused to move on and leave me alone.  I’d been bedridden for over a week, and lying around had become tiresome, but I still wasn’t ready for the daily grind of ranch business.  My brother wasn’t either, which left my father with chores he wasn’t used to doing on a daily basis.  While Hoss and I recuperated, we had hired hands who would’ve taken on any menial job around the ranch—mucking the stalls, spreading fresh straw, or feeding the stock—but my father was a stubborn man and took it upon himself to do the mundane tasks that my brother and I had done since we were little nippers.

While my father caught a few winks in the upholstered chair beside my bed, I thought back to the last couple of weeks and how a madman had wormed his way into our lives and caught all three of us unaware. 

It was wrong of Pa to shoulder the blame, although being a law-abiding citizen, he did what he believed was right.  Any man in his place would’ve done the same, but convincing my father otherwise would take a miracle.  The light had gone out of his eyes.  Even his appetite failed him.  My father was a beaten man.

Book 1

When Hoss handed his father the missive, Ben read the telegram over twice.  Looking up from his seat behind the large mahogany desk, he questioned his middle boy.  “Have you read this?”

“Yessir.  When Danny handed me the telegram, and with Joe down in Carson, I figured it was from him, and he’d be desperate for a reply.”

“That’s fine, Son.  After the heated discussion during breakfast, I appreciate that you’re still concerned about your brother’s welfare.”

“Oh, Pa.  That weren’t nothing.  Hey, what do you think this is all about?” 

“I don’t have the slightest idea, but I’m glad your hunch was wrong and Joseph isn’t in some kind of trouble.  He should be home before suppertime.”

“I’ll go.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll go to Placerville.”

“Your brother won’t take kindly to my decision, but I think it would be best if  I sent you to help out.  Sarah is a very special lady, and I know you’ll do right by her.”

“Don’t worry about Joe. He’ll put up a fuss, but he’ll get over it.  I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

Chapter 1

“Why does he get to go?  Why not me?”

My father forked another bite of scrambled eggs before looking my way and answering.  I’m sure he expected an outburst, and I was eager to deliver.

“The spring dance.”

“The what?”

“I assumed you’d want to attend the spring dance, and if you were stuck in Placerville on the twenty-ninth, you wouldn’t be able to go.”

“He’s got a point, Joe.”

“You stay out of this, Brother.  It’s not fair, Pa.”

Pa stared straight at me.  “It’s fair.”

And so it was that Hoss left early that morning for Placerville, leaving me behind to do everyone’s chores and attend the spring dance, which I hadn’t thought about who I’d ask or if I even wanted to go.  The affair was two weeks away, and I rarely thought that far ahead.

Hoss left right after breakfast, and minutes later, Pa glared at me.  “Better get going, Joe.”

Pa’s answer to any problem was hard work, and that was what he had in mind that morning.  Riding fence was the most tedious job on the ranch, and that’s the job I had to suffer through for the remainder of the week.  Though I put on a happy face, saddled my horse, and rode out, it was all a lie.  My day was ruined.  My week was ruined, and I was in a very bad mood.  My father had tricked me when he brought up the dance, and in the back of my mind, I wondered what the real reason for sending Hoss might’ve been.  

Sarah Davis was a young widow, and if it was a farming problem, Hoss was the right man for the job.  He was strong, and he was smart about those things.  If it was a delicate issue, Hoss might turn ten shades of red, but he’d get the job done.

Or did desperate straits mean the widow was desperate for a new husband?  Hoss was single, and he was the right age.  Was that what floated in the depths of Sarah’s or perhaps my father’s mind?  Was a married son to carry on the Cartwright name what kept Pa on his toes and thinking of ways to make that happen?  Adam was old enough to have a wife and three or four children by now, but he’d turned his back on the Ponderosa, and Pa had no influence over him anymore.  Yep.  I believe Pa was hoping for a miracle.

But after a week’s time, Pa wondered why Hoss hadn’t sent a wire to explain the difficulty he’d encountered at the widow Davis’s home on the outskirts of Placerville.  In all fairness,  the woman was self-sufficient.  She owned a decent plot of land, and those couple of acres housed a few outbuildings, a small barn for the milk cow, a few chickens, and enough space for a fenced-in vegetable garden. Though I couldn’t imagine what her difficulty might be, Hoss should’ve been able to clear things up and have been on his way home by the end of the week.  But Pa worried.  I braced my hands on my father’s desk and leaned forward.

“He probably got busy and forgot to send a wire.”

 “Hoss doesn’t forget things like that.”

“Are you saying I do?”

“If the shoe fits ….”  Pa stood and circled his desk.  “I’m sorry, Joe.  His hand slid across my shoulder, and I treasured the warmth that made me feel like I was worth something more than just a bothersome son.  “I’m worried about your brother.”

“I know you are, Pa, but Hoss can take care of himself.”

“I’m sure he can.”

Two more days passed, and I was beginning to think like my father. Something bad had taken place, and it was up to me to find out what could’ve happened to a big ox like Hoss.  Placerville was a two-day trip, and I prayed I wouldn’t find him on the side of the road, but Pa was right.  Something was amiss, and I needed to find my brother.

After loading my saddlebags with a clean shirt, a few strips of jerky, and leftover fried chicken, I was ready to go.  And because I would leave in the dead of night, my father would be unhappy.  He’d want to skin me alive, but I had no choice.  Hoss was in trouble.

The crescent moon did nothing to make the ride easier, and I’d been a fool to leave right after the clock struck midnight.  How in the world was I supposed to see a body on the side of the road? How could I see a sleeping black horse on a black night?  After cursing myself a hundred times over, I kept moving forward. If Hoss had made it to the widow’s house, I’d let him be the first one to call me a fool.

Chapter 2

She stood on her front porch, searching, maybe, for one of the Cartwright boys to ride up and help her with her dire straits.  Would I be the first to arrive?  Her barn stood out of sight behind her two-story house, and if Chubby had been stabled, I had no way of knowing.  I had no choice but to ride up and tip my hat to the lady.

“Evening, Miss Davis.  I’m Joe Cartwright.”

“Oh, my gracious!  Ben’s boy?” 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Although I hadn’t seen her in years, I’m not sure what I expected, but she sure didn’t look like a widow, at least not any widow I’d ever met.  With a few golden curls falling from a loose twist at the back of her head, and eyes that rivaled my brother’s baby blues, she was every man’s dream come true.

“What in the world are you doing in these parts?”

“Excuse me?”

“No matter.  Tie that horse up and come on inside.  I bet you need something warm to drink.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

After dusting my clothes as best I could, I followed Sarah Davis inside the house to her kitchen.  Although nothing looked amiss, I wondered what the frantic telegram had been all about.

“I put the kettle on before stepping outside.  Will a cup of tea do?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“None of that Ma’am stuff, Joe Cartwright.  Sarah will do just fine.”

“Okay, but—”

“No buts.”

“No, I mean, there was something else I—”

“All that can wait.  You can stay for supper, can’t you?  I want to hear about everyone.  I haven’t seen Ben and you boys for ages.”

“Yes, Ma’am … Sarah.”  While the tea steeped, she handed me a patterned plate with a generous slice of chocolate cake.  “You must be starved after that long ride.”

“Thank you, Miss Sarah.”

“Just Sarah. 

“I’m sorry.  I rode fast and hard, and I’m too tired to think.” 

I hadn’t mentioned Hoss yet, but I was waiting for her to settle down and take a seat at the table before I started in on the situation that was worse than any problem she needed a Cartwright to fix.

“I’m glad you thought to stop by, Joe.  I don’t get many visitors these days.”

“Stop by?  I don’t understand.”  I pushed my plate aside and leaned heavily on the table.  “Did you or did you not send my father a telegram?”

“Me?”

“Yes, Ma’am.  A wire asking my father if he could spare a son.”

“I’m sorry, Joe, but I never sent Ben a wire about anything.”

After sucking in a deep breath of air, I felt her clear, blue eyes staring at me as though I’d lost my mind.  “I’m here because of this wire.”  I reached into my jacket pocket and handed her the paper.  “Are you saying this isn’t from you?”

“Of course, that’s what I’m saying.  I’m sorry, Joe.  I’m sorry you made the trip, but—”

“That’s not the only problem, Ma’am.  My brother, Hoss, left over a week ago to help with your desperate straits.”

“Ben’s middle son, right?”

“Right.”

“Oh, no.  He never showed up here.  I haven’t seen any of you boys for years.”

“Hoss left the Ponderosa nine days ago, right after we got your wire.”  Sarah listened but had nothing to offer.  “And you’re saying he never made it to your house, right?”

She didn’t have to say a word.  Her watery eyes said it all. As I pondered the situation and wondered what my next move should be, Sarah headed toward a front window and stared at the road that led to her house.

“I wish I had answers, Joe.”

I didn’t remember much about Mrs. Davis, but her husband had been a banker, and Pa had done business with him on a few occasions.  They’d been to our house for supper several times, and my father considered Sarah and Ralph close friends, which is why he scooted Hoss out the front door to assist the helpless widow, but what happens now?  Where do I even start?

“Should you wire your father?”

Pa would still be fuming over my disappearance, but when he read my telegram, his worry would shift to Hoss and though that made me happy, I still didn’t know what to think or where to begin looking, but after my father read the wire, he’d have Buck saddled and be on his way to Placerville before daylight.

The widow put me up for the night, and she fed me breakfast fit for a king.  I was beholding, but I couldn’t sit around all day.  I needed a plan.

“Where will you start looking?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Perhaps I should introduce you to the sheriff.”

“Yeah.  Guess I could start there, and I need to wire my father.”

“If you’ll hitch the buckboard, I can be ready in five minutes.  I’ll ride in with you and make the needed introductions.”

*

“Larry Joe Logan, this is  Joe Cartwright from up Virginia City way.”

After informing Placerville’s new sheriff—a veteran of the war, a Southerner who made it through the fighting but had no home to return to—didn’t seem very interested in my problem.  Perhaps he was a nice enough fella, although he didn’t offer much promise. 

“I’ll do what I can, Young Fella.   I’ll ask around … see if anyone knows anything.”

I glared at the tall, redheaded man, hoping for more, but that was all he had to say.  “I appreciate that, Sheriff.”

“We don’t get no wagon trains driving through town, but we’ve had groups of Mormons who ain’t happy with them folks back in Utah. The lucky ones got themselves an ox or two, but mostly, they’re on foot. They pull heavy carts, keep to themselves, and rarely stop for supplies.  Nine out of ten trains travel south of town, but their trail’s easy to follow.  Looks a bit like a cattle drive went through.  One of them folks might’ve seen something.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.  At least I have a place to start.”

“I wish you well, Son.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Can you get home all right, Sarah?”  I’d tied Cooch to the back of the buckboard, and I was ready to ride.

Sarah nodded.  “After you find your brother, the two of you come by for a hot meal before you head back home.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Chapter 3

The sheriff’s notion was dead on.  The Mormon trail was easy to find and follow, and I rode alongside the wide, dusty path the oxen had left behind.  While wagon wheels carved deep ruts, the animals were low to the ground and had trampled any traces of grass or low-growing shrubs.  If I didn’t find my brother with the Mormons, where else would I look?  Hoss was the tracker in the family, not me.

If they were pulling heavy wagons and carts, they wouldn’t make too many miles a day, and it wouldn’t take long to catch up.  I kept my pace steady, so my horse wouldn’t tire before the long ride back to town.  Perhaps I’d been too optimistic.  I hadn’t unloaded my camp gear, but supper was another story.  I hadn’t thought about travelling a second time, and I’d finished Hop Sing’s food on my ride over the Sierras.  Although food was never a priority for me like it was for my big brother, a meal of beans and bacon was beginning to sound like a feast, but it wouldn’t happen tonight.  This wasn’t my finest hour.

After two days on the trail and a very long night with only a couple of thin strips of jerky for supper, I saw a cloud of dust up ahead and made my way to the head of the line.  Whether anyone was an official leader or whether it was one for all and all for one, I didn’t know how Mormons operated, but I’d soon find out.

I tipped my hat to the man leading his oxen, the man leading the procession.  “May I have a word?”

“Certainly, but I can’t stop the train.  You’ll have to follow along.”

“Yessir.”

I dismounted and held Cooch’s reins in my left hand so I could speak to the man in charge … or at least, I hoped he could answer a few questions, but as he stared at me like I wasn’t trustworthy enough for him to waste time talking to, I held my tongue and let him look me over.

“You have no gear to stow, so I can’t imagine that you’d be interested in traveling alongside a group of people different from your own.  Am I right?”

“Yessir.”

“Then may I ask your business?”

The man never faltered.  He kept a steady pace, and I tried to gather my thoughts as I marched in step with him.  “I’m looking for my brother.  He’s a big man, twice my size with a tall white hat, brown vest, and dark brown trousers.  He rides a  large bay with three white socks and a white blaze.”

“Good description, Son, but I can’t say that anyone like that has crossed our path.”

“You’re sure?”

“You asked me a question, and I gave you my answer.”

I dropped my head in defeat.  “Yessir.” 

I’d ridden all that way for nothing, and I didn’t think the sheriff was that keen on searching for Hoss back in town.  As soon as I returned to Placerville, if Pa wasn’t waiting for me, I’d have to send another wire. If the widow had been a man, we could ride out together and search, but I didn’t suppose a woman would be caught dead traipsing around the landscape looking for someone she barely knew.  

On the horizon, the rolling hills and surrounding woodlands might be the reason that Old Hangtown survived its glory days.  Whereas most gold rush towns turned into ruins, the rough and tumble settlement that sold the promise of riches in Eastern periodicals was still alive and going strong.

I didn’t push Cooch.  He’d had a rough few days without much to eat or drink.  I owed him and would remedy the situation as soon as we got to the livery.  He deserved a few days’ rest, and as we ventured down Main Street, I realized that most mining towns looked the same.  Every saloon sold warm beer, rotgut, and women.  There was more than one way to make big money rather than digging or panning for gold.  When the getting was good, everyone made a profit digging or panning for gold.  When the getting was good, everyone made a profit, but not much about making money or the town of Placerville held my interest, not when my best friend was missing, presumed dead by a sheriff who didn’t have time for outsiders.

After my eyes adjusted to the low light of the livery and Cooch whinnied, I saw Buck standing in a stall to my right.  When I pulled Cochise in next to him and slipped a bag of oats over his head, I figured they could chat about the day’s events.  That’s what I would do with my father as soon as I found him.

I didn’t have to search far.  Pa walked my way.  He must’ve left the ranch as soon as he got my first wire and then saw me riding down Main Street just minutes ago.  He didn’t look happy.

“Hi, Pa.”

“Joseph.”

His tone wasn’t hard to miss.  I’d guessed right.  My father wasn’t happy.  “Have a good trip?”  I kept the banter light and easy.

“I’ll never understand you, Joe.  You’re old enough to know better than to run off in the middle of the night, yet that’s exactly what you managed to do.  Why?  Why couldn’t we sit down and discuss the matter?”

“I messed up, Pa, and I’m sorry, but I was worried about Hoss.”

“You weren’t alone, Son.  We were both worried.”

I nodded.  “You’re right.  I shouldn’t have left the ranch.”  Pa didn’t have to use any words to agree.  He turned on his heel, and we started back up the street.  “Where are we going?”

“You didn’t find hide or hair of your brother, did you?”

“No.”

“Let’s see what the sheriff has to say.”

“Yessir.”

Sheriff Logan stood outside his office on the boardwalk.  Leaning against an upright, it seemed he’d found something to pick his teeth with.  I guess we all do that on occasion, but did he have to come outside and show the world?  When he saw us walking toward him, he tossed the item aside and reached out to shake my father’s hand.  “I see you found one of your boys.”

Pa looked at me like I’d just robbed the Wells Fargo, but he’d soon give up his anger and concentrate on Hoss.  That’s why he’d come to Placerville, and that’s why we were standing on the boardwalk hoping the sheriff would have a suggestion or two.

“As I mentioned to Joe the other day, I checked with a few bartenders and a couple of hotel clerks while he chased down the Mormons, and no one has seen a big man wearing a tall white hat.”

“It’s been nearly two weeks since he left the Ponderosa, Sheriff.  A man doesn’t just disappear.”

“I agree, but we don’t know whether he made it this far, do we?  We don’t know if he made it over the Sierras, do we?  We don’t know much of anything, do we, Mr. Cartwright?”

For the second time in minutes, Pa was at a loss for words.  I looked up at the sheriff.  “Do you have any suggestions?”

“Can’t say that I do, Son.  You and Papa get a good night’s rest, and we’ll start fresh in the morning.  I think Mrs. Davis is expecting you for supper.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.”

Since we’d stabled our horses for the night, Pa thought it would be easier if we walked to Sarah’s house.  “We need to talk, Joe.”

“I said I was sorry, Pa.  What more do you want?”

“It’s not about that.  It’s about this.”  Pa reached inside his vest and handed me a torn piece of newsprint.  “Read this.”

“`

The Territorial Enterprise

May 26, 1865

By Samuel Clemens

Reginald Simms Released

At ten o’clock this morning, Reginald Simms was released from the Nevada State Prison.  After serving five years for killing Rose Carpenter, Wells Fargo Bank President James J. Carpenter’s daughter, he was tried and sentenced by a jury of six.  After a guilty verdict was announced, the judge and all six men were threatened by Simms.

“Enjoy the next five years, Gentlemen.  You won’t be long for this world after my release.”

Three of those men still reside in Storey County.  Carpenter and his wife, Margaret, took Rose’s siblings, Rachel and Russ, and left the state.  According to Carpenter, no one was safe in this jurisdiction.

“I won’t subject my family to the violence that will take years to rectify in this irrepressible city of sin.”

“`

Chapter 4

I read and reread the missive, and we were scared to death.  My father had served on the six-man jury and was one of the men Simms had threatened to get even with once he was out of prison.  Could this man have killed Hoss to get back at my father?  My mind worked overtime trying to comprehend a demented man’s mind.

“What do you think, Pa?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you show the sheriff?”

“No.  I wanted you to see it first.”

A cool wind blew, and I pulled my hat lower on my forehead, but whether it was the wind or my nerves that caused that awful feeling inside, I wasn’t sure.  I didn’t know what to think or what to say.  Were Pa’s thoughts the same as mine?  Was my brother already dead?  I was so lost in thought that time and distance eluded me.  When Pa nudged my arm, I looked up to see the warm glow of the widow’s porch light just ahead. 

“You all right, Son?”

“I guess.”

“Come on.  Let’s see if we can make it through supper without getting into any specifics.”

“Right.”

I stood next to Pa while he knocked on the widow’s front door.  The last thing I wanted to do was sit down to supper and act like nothing was wrong.  It was a long way from natural, and I hated having to pretend.

Pa knocked again, and still, there was no answer.  After glancing down at me, he tried the latch and pushed the wooden door open a couple of inches.  “Sarah?  It’s Ben Cartwright.  Sarah?”

“I’ll try around back.”  I took off alongside the clapboard structure until I pushed against the back door.  “Mrs.  Davis?  Sarah?”

Through the opening, evening light filtered into the darkened kitchen.  I could see a large pot sitting on the stove and an orange tabby lying on a folded blanket in the corner of the room.  The cat looked up but wasn’t bothered by an intruder.  Steam rose from the cast-iron pot, and ten biscuits were ready to go into the oven.

“Pa!”  Before I stepped inside, I hollered so he could hear me and know I was coming toward him.  As I moved across the kitchen, my skin crawled.  Something didn’t feel right.  Something felt very wrong

“Joseph!  Stay where you are.”  My father yelled from the front parlor, but I didn’t heed his words. 

Looking down on top of a blue, braided rug in the widow’s parlor, I couldn’t believe what lay before me.  Sarah, her head twisted at an unnatural angle, and Pa was feeling for a pulse.

“She’s gone.”

“Who in the world?”

“Close the back door and come around the outside of the house.  We’ll have to tell the sheriff.”

“There’s a cat, Pa.  In the kitchen.”

“Put him out.  He shouldn’t be inside anyway.”

“It seems that maybe he should.”

“What?”

“He has a bed in the kitchen.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Just do as I ask.”

“Yessir.”

*

Larry Joe Logan doffed his hat and scratched a thick thatch of red hair.  After Sarah’s story was told, Pa handed him the newsprint to read.  “You think this has something to do with the widow’s death, Mr. Cartwright?’

“I think it’s more than a coincidence.”

The sheriff didn’t seem to heed Pa’s words.  “If there’s a murder in Placerville, it’s straight out.  There’s no mystery about it.  Two men face each other on Main Street.  That’s how it’s done.  Investigative work has never been a strong factor in what’s left of this mining town.”

I stepped forward.  “Maybe it is now, Sheriff.”

“Are you questioning my abilities, Son?”

“Take it any way you want.”  Pa’s eyes shot to mine, but I didn’t hold back.  We needed help, and Logan was the only person who could offer assistance.  “A woman is dead.  A man is missing, and they both have a close association with my father.  Do you think it’s a coincidence, Sheriff?”

Logan stood from the seat behind his desk.  “I need to have the body moved to the funeral parlor.  I suggest you two have something to eat and get a room for the night.  Tonight we’ll ponder.  Tomorrow morning, we’ll put our heads together and come up with a plan.  Does that work for you, Sonny?”

“Fine.  We’ll ponder.”

*

By morning, Pa and I had pondered all we could and decided the entire scenario had been a setup.  If Russell Simms sent the telegram and signed S. Davis, who would be the wiser?  It could have been a man or a woman.  The telegrapher just sends what’s written on a sheet of paper.  He doesn’t check a man’s references.  Whether we were right or wrong, Hoss was still missing, and the widow was dead.  We needed answers.

“Good morning, Sheriff.”

I followed Pa inside Logan’s office.  With only one chair in front of the sheriff’s desk, I let my father sit down, and I leaned against the wall next to the stove.

“Coffee?”

Even though we’d stopped for a quick breakfast, coffee always hit the spot, and the two of us nodded.   Once we’d been handed white mugs, Pa let loose of our pondering.

“What do you think, Sheriff?  Accurate or far-fetched?”

Again, the head scratching.  I suppose that improved his thought process.   “You did better than I did, Mr. Cartwright.  Is this what you and your boy think?”

“It’s possible.”

“Anything’s possible, but is it plausible?”

“You tell me, Sheriff.  The widow Davis is dead, and my son is missing, so yes, I believe that Russell Simms is the answer to both puzzles.  It’s me he wants to hurt.  If he’s killed my son—”

“Stop right there, Mr. Cartwright.  You’d best not say anything more.”

That was the first thing the sheriff said that I agreed with.  If Pa didn’t stop talking, he’d hang himself before we had a chance to find my brother.  “What’s the plan, Sheriff.  What did you ponder last night?”

Logan glanced at my father.  “Is he always like this?”

“When he wants results, he’s like a dog with a bone.”

“All right.  This is what we’re going to do.”

*

If Russell Simms was behind Sarah’s death and Hoss’s disappearance, Logan was adamant that Pa and I stay together.  He said he’d talk to people he’d skipped the first time he asked about Hoss, and he would send telegrams to towns within a hundred-mile radius.  Pa and I and Logan’s deputy would check the abandoned mines and shacks in the surrounding area, and that’s where all our pondering got us.

*

A young man flew through the front door.  “Sorry, Sheriff.”

“That new baby keep you up late last night?”

“All night, Sheriff. Sorry I’m late.”

“This is my deputy, Caleb Jones, otherwise known as CJ.  He’s a good family man, and he’s ready to help anyway he can.”

I was closer to the deputy than Pa, so I reached out and shook the man’s hand.  I’m Joe. And this is my father, Ben Cartwright.”

“Good to meet you folks.  The sheriff told me about your problems, I mean, about your brother.”

“We need to find him.”

“Of course.  The sheriff wants me to show you around.  If he’s anywhere around Placerville, we’ll find him.”

“That’s just what we wanted to hear, Deputy.”

“Just CJ.”

I  glanced up at my father.  “I’ll get the horses.”

“Fine.  The faster we get moving, the faster—”

“I know.  I’m on my way.”

Book 2

Chapter 1

Dirt walls, a dirt floor, and a musty smell became my surroundings.  A cast-iron stove stood inches away with a stovepipe that towered over my head and through the dirt ceiling.  The stove was hot, and something boiled in a pot on top.  A candle burned inside a copper sconce in the opposite corner, but the flame was dim and never flickered.  There was no breeze, barely enough air to breathe.

As I explored my surroundings, I found that dirt steps led to a slanted, wooden door, the only outlet from the underground prison.  A wooden table and two chairs sat in the middle of the room, and a single cot ran the length of the wall by my feet. I searched the room for anything of importance, a tool, or gadget, or a sensible means of escape.  And then I smiled.

“Hoss?”

“Joe.”

My brother’s voice was breathy,  barely audible.  Lying on his left side with his arms tied behind his back, I’d never seen him look so unsettled.  He was alive, but he wasn’t himself, and it seemed that lifting his head took a great deal of effort.  I didn’t know what he’d been through or how long he’d been a captive in this godforsaken hole in the ground, but it was up to me to get us the hell out.

“Russell Simms?”

And then it hit me. Hoss wouldn’t know the man unless introductions had been made. I didn’t know the man either.  He’d come at me from behind, and I never saw his face.  If we were barking up the wrong tree, Hoss and I wouldn’t be the wiser.  I waited for my brother to answer, although it took a few minutes for any words to come.

“Yeah.  We met about a week ago.”

“It’s probably more like two weeks, Brother.”

“Oh.  Too long.  Too tired.”

“You don’t look good.”

“Don’t feel good.”

“You shot?”

“No.”

“Anything broken?”

“No.”  I waited for an explanation.  I waited and waited.  “Hungry.”

Hoss had been missing for over two weeks now, and when the door swung open, early morning light filled the dimly lit room, and I had to look away.  I lay on the cold ground, and my flesh crawled with goosebumps.  My eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, but moments later, a man’s gravelly voice caught my attention, and I turned toward the sound.  With my hands tied behind my back and lying across the tiny room from Hoss, it was difficult to move anything besides my head.

“Welcome to your new home, Joseph.”

“You must be Simms.” 

“You’re not as dumb as you look.”

“What the hell do you want?”

The man contained a laugh as he moved down the stairs, pulled out one of the wooden chairs, and turned it toward me.  “You’re quite the smart ass, aren’t you, Cartwright?”

“No, I’d just like to know why my brother and I are being held like animals and not given food or water.”  

Simms crossed one leg over the other and pulled a cheroot from his mouth.  That’s when a chuckle escaped.  “I thought you were the smart one.”

Though I tried to sit up, I couldn’t manage with my hands tied.  I was at a disadvantage, and Simms found humor in my struggle.  “Keep trying, Joseph.  That brother of yours tried the same thing, and I had to teach him a lesson.  The big man’s done in.  He ain’t long for this world.”

“Don’t count on it.”

I remembered seeing how one side of Hoss’s face looked darker than the other, but it didn’t occur to me that he’d been beaten.  I doubt either of us was thinking straight.  I wasn’t sure how long I’d been lying in this cave-like creation, but if I was hungry, my brother was beyond starving.

“Let me give you a hand, Little Man.”

Simms grabbed hold right above my elbow and hauled me to my feet.  My head pounded, and I had to assume he’d clobbered me hard before he brought me to this place, but the image of my kidnapping was unclear. I still fought the pain of that blow.

My boots and trousers and shirt had been removed, and I stood in my stocking feet and long johns, which is why I constantly shivered.  Being only half dressed, he knew I’d feel inferior, but that was his plan.  God knows what he’d done to Hoss, though his words hit me hard.  “He ain’t long for this world.”  A fact I had to face and act fast.

“Sit.”

He pointed to one of the wooden chairs by the table and then reached for two short pieces of rope.  After I sat down, he tied my ankles to the chair legs and, knowing how I wore my gun belt, he knew my dominant hand and tied my left wrist to the back of the chair.  Hoss was to remain lying on the floor, and it wasn’t long before I realized his plan.

After dishing up a plate of stew, he set it on the table in front of me.  Hoss was only allowed to smell the grub, not eat the grub, and Simms was well aware of what the lack of food would do to a man as big as my brother. 

“Eat up, Joseph.  You don’t want to end up like Fat Boy and never be served another meal again.”

“Why?”

“Why, you ask?  Because I promised your father, and I never break a promise.”

“You’re mad, Simms.”

“Food’s getting cold.” 

I pushed the plate away.  How could I eat in front of Hoss?  It wasn’t right.  How long since he’d had a meal?  If he couldn’t stand on his own, there’s no way I could haul him out of here and back to Pa. 

“Eat or die, Cartwright.”

Now, I understood.  Simms liked to play games.  Watching me eat the stew would only make Hoss more pliable, easily influenced to do anything Simms demanded, but what that would be, I didn’t know.  If I thought my father would find this place, I was kidding myself.  Not that I knew where we were, but I doubt Pa would be checking underground for two missing sons.

I ate a spoonful of stew.  I had no choice.  If I died, Hoss died, and my father would die.  Not immediately, but he’d blame himself for the rest of his life, and that would be a slow, agonizing death.  I couldn’t let that happen.

“Let me give the rest to my brother.”

“You’ll try anything once, won’t you, Cartwright?”

“Why starve him to death?  How does that help you?”

“It helps me just fine.  It makes me the king of my castle, the man in charge, not the other way around.  I’ve had enough of that.  Now, I have the power.”

“The power to do what?”

“Anything I want.”

“Keeping the two of us here is what you want? That’s how you want to live your life?  What purpose does it serve?” 

I needed answers and hoped Simms would talk.  Maybe he wasn’t as powerful as he thought he was.

“Finish that stew or—”

“Or what?  You gonna shoot me?”

“It’s a thought.”  When he pulled my Colt from its holster, I wondered if he was man enough to pull the trigger.  With the gun pointed at me, he steadied his elbow on the table and leaned forward.  He pushed the plate of congealed stew toward me.  “Now, Cartwright. Every man has choices.  Yours is to eat or die.”   

I picked up the spoon and slipped it under a piece of meat that could’ve been anything from muskrat to rattler to squirrel.  I didn’t want to think about what I was putting in my mouth, but I didn’t have much choice.

The only thing keeping me from losing my meal in front of my captor was that it would worry Hoss to see me sick.  In his weakened state, trying to save me might really do him in.

Simms seemed pleased with the way things were going.  One man was nearly dead on the floor, and the other was tied to a chair.  That left him in charge, and he was ready for a breath of fresh air.   When he stood and tucked my Colt through his belt, the only thought I had was Good riddance. 

Shouts filled the air, but the voices were muffled and difficult to understand.  All I knew was that Simms wasn’t talking to himself.  Either we’d been rescued or his accomplices had ridden up.  Did a man like Simms have friends he could count on?  He was just days out of prison.  My heart began to pound.  I prayed that luck would be on our side.

Chapter 2

“Joseph?”  The voice came from above.

“Pa?”

“Is Hoss with you?”

“Yeah, but he’s out cold.”

As Pa’s black boots crept down the dirt steps, I hesitated to believe it was true.  “Hold on, Son.”  At the halfway point, he turned and scurried back up and out the slanted door.

Desperate thoughts had floated through my mind for the last few days.  Thoughts of a brother I couldn’t save, a brother who would die right in front of my eyes.  While I’d be seated in the chair across from Simms, eating and drinking and being forced to witness Hoss’s death, it was all too real to dismiss.

Trembling with fear of what he could’ve found in the depths below, Pa hurried back down the steps and came to stand beside me.  And when he swept his hand across my cheek, we both had tears in our eyes.  We’d let our emotions get the best of us, but only for a brief moment.  There wasn’t time to waste.

“Simms?”

“CJ’s got him.”

“Good.”

Pa fought to loosen the ropes that held my ankles and left arm to the wooden chair.  When he caught sight of Hoss lying on the dirt floor, he looked up at me from a kneeling position.

“How’s your brother?”

“Not good.  Hasn’t eaten in days.”

My father groaned, but his fingers never stopped working the knots.  As soon as I was free, we both clambered over to Hoss, and Pa felt for a pulse.  He’d lost the battle to watch over me and had fallen asleep or unconscious.  I wasn’t a doctor, and guessing didn’t do Hoss any good, but he was still breathing, and that’s all that mattered.  All we had to do now was get him up the stairs and back to Placerville.

“How far to town?”  I was afraid to hear the answer.

“A little over a mile.  Not far.”

“I never would’ve guessed.”

Pa smiled, but we didn’t have time for idle chitchat.  “I sent the deputy back with Simms.”

“What about Hoss?”

“I told CJ to bring Logan and a wagon with him.  We’ll need help getting your brother up the stairs.”

“Yeah.  He’s dead weight.”

“How long’s he been out?”

“I’m not sure.  He’s been in and out for days.”

While Pa fussed over Hoss, I found that my clothes had been thrown in the corner of the room.  I dressed, pulled on my boots, and fastened my gun belt low on my hip, but my gun was nowhere in sight.  I hoped CJ knew enough to check Simms from head to toe before hauling him back to town.  The last thing I remember, my Colt had been tucked inside the madman’s belt.

When I moved across the cave-like room, I heard my father apologizing to Hoss for sending him without confirming the wire.  In a million years, none of us would’ve confirmed a wire from an old friend.  Pa was so guilt-ridden, he wasn’t thinking straight.

“Get your brother some water, Joseph.”

“On my way.” 

I carried a wooden bucket up the stairs and into the land where the air was sweet and trees swayed in the breeze.  No one should live underground.  Maybe that’s why I preferred ranching over mining.  Before Adam left home, he was in charge of the mining operations.  The job should’ve passed down to Hoss or me, but neither of us jumped at the chance.  Pa realized the problem and hired a man named Owen Peters to manage our interest in several mines we had invested in over the years.  Thank God for Peters.  He was a good man, which meant Hoss and I could keep our feet above ground.

After I returned, Hoss woke enough to take sips of water, but he was as weak as I’d ever seen him.  After almost losing the battle with a bullet a few years back, the lack of food and water seemed to have done more damage than a slug from a .38 and a madman named Red Twilight.  I was a fool kid back then and nearly made a regrettable mistake, but I learned what was important, and it wasn’t Red.  It was my brother, and I felt the same way now.

While I was out getting water from a nearby stream, Pa had untied Hoss’s hands but couldn’t sit him up.  He was too heavy, and Pa needed my help.  Upon my return, we worked as a team and got the job done.  Simms hadn’t undressed my brother, but he’d removed Hoss’s boots and thrown them in the corner next to my clothes.  Guess he thought if we didn’t wear boots, we wouldn’t try to escape.  Either that, or it was a prison trick I wasn’t aware of.  In any case, we’d both been left in our stocking feet.  I set the boots beside the table and chairs for now.  Forcing them on Hoss’s gigantic feet seemed too harsh for a man who was barely alive.

“We’ll wait for the others.”

“Makes sense to me, Pa.  Hey, how about some coffee?”

“Sounds good.”

Pa stayed next to Hoss while I put the pot on the stove and then found two battered cups and set them on the table.

“Are you all right, Joseph?”

“I’m fine.”  I didn’t want Pa to know anything more.  I felt bad enough already.  While my brother starved, I ate like a king.  The whole time we were here, Simms tried to pit us against each other, but Hoss was too weak to play games.  How many days?  Three?  Four?  I wasn’t sure.  Pa would know, but I didn’t want him to know that I’d lost track of time.  “Coffee’s ready.  Think Hoss can drink?”

“Let’s try.”

I held the cup to my brother’s lips, and it wasn’t long before he was sipping the brew.  If he were in his right mind, he’d be complaining about the way I made coffee, although I couldn’t count on any campfire grumbling this time.  When he finished, I filled the cup for myself and sat down at the table.

Hoss lifted his head and looked in my direction.  “That was awful, Joseph.”

I looked at Pa and smiled.

He’s right, you know.”

“Yeah.  I know.”

From that moment on, I knew Hoss was on the mend and we could get back to normal.  Our world would right itself, and we could move forward.

Chapter 3

“Think you can stand up, Son?”

“If you help me.”

Pa and I each took an arm and helped Hoss balance on both feet.  I’d pulled one of the chairs close, and we guided him onto the seat.  It was a start.  He was weak and needed food more than anything, but there was nothing left in the underground pit that Simms must’ve known about before he was sent to prison.  He had five years to make plans for members of the jury, and Ben Cartwright had been first on the list for his sadistic act of revenge.

“We need game, Pa.  Hoss needs food.  Maybe I can find a rabbit or ….”

“My rifle’s in the scabbard.”

“With any luck, I’ll be back shortly.”

*

I heard the blast before I felt it.  As I reached for Pa’s rifle, a slug slammed into my right shoulder and knocked me clear off my feet.  As much as I tried to hang onto Buck’s saddle, I didn’t have the strength and slid like a rag doll to the ground.  Bits of rock dug into my cheek, but they didn’t compare to the fire that raged from the right side of my body.  Tears burned my eyes, and when I tried to stand, my vision blurred and my head swam with bouts of nausea I tried to subdue.

“Hello, Little Man.”

Although I recognized the voice, I strained to see the figure towering over me.  The late afternoon sun shone behind him and darkened his features, but I knew.  Hurting me hurt my father, and that was the plan.

“Didn’t count on me coming back, did you?  Didn’t count on me shooting you with your own gun, did you?”

I took a deep breath and forced out the words.  “You’re scum, Simms.”

“Prison does that to a man, Cartwright.  Brings out everything human nature has to offer.”

“You didn’t shoot to kill, did you?”

“Nope.”

“You’re worse than scum.  You’re evil.”

“Maybe.”

I tried to catch my breath, tried to think clearly, and that’s when I heard the slanted door creak.  “Joseph?”

“He’s right here, Mr. Cartwright.  Come on up and see your boy.  He’s a bit under the weather.”

Keeping my eyes focused was harder than it should’ve been.  I tried to find Pa, but holding my head up was much too difficult, and those same jagged rocks scraped across the side of my face when I dropped back to the ground.  Fiery words were spoken.  The anger in both voices was hard and deliberate. I curled myself up tight and tried to block the tirade of hateful words that were thrown back and forth between the guilty party and the juror who’d help send him to prison.

Pa’s hand slid under my head, and he reached for my shoulder to check the wound.  “In and out, Son.  Thank God.”

“How’s that other boy of yours?  He dead yet?”

I didn’t have to see Pa’s face to know the look he gave Simms.  “My son needs a doctor.”

“You know that ain’t gonna happen.”

“You want murder on your conscience?  You vying for another prison term?”

“Good try, Old Man, but I’m the one holding all the cards.  I’m the one in charge.”

When Pa tried to cradle me in his arms, my head lolled to the side, and I didn’t have the wherewithal to right it.  Like Hoss, I was dead weight, but my father was determined to do what was needed to save my life.

“I’m taking my son down those stairs, and I’m going to clean the wound.  You can stand guard up here, or you can come and watch the show.  It’s your choice.”

There was a bit of sass to Pa’s voice, and if hell hadn’t taken charge of my body, I might’ve smiled.  Instead, I lay as still as I could in my father’s arms and knew that it wasn’t my time to die.

*

I felt every swipe of the cloth Pa ran across my shoulder.  After he boiled creek water in the stew pot, he used his red kerchief to clean both sides of the wound, and all I could think of was that on laundry day, Hop Sing would have trouble locating all of the red blood spots on a red kerchief.  It was a silly thing to worry about, although that’s where my mind traveled every time Pa blotted blood from my shoulder.

There’d been no words from Hoss, no concern, no sign of life beyond his raspy breathing.  I didn’t shoot the rabbit or fat squirrel that should be boiling on the stove rather than just a pot of hot water that penetrated through the gaping wound on my shoulder.  Pa dabbed with the precision of a well-trained nurse.

“You’ve done this before, Cartwright.”

I felt Pa hesitate.  “Yes, and I guarantee that I’ll be here next to my son if it happens again.”

“I’d be glad to oblige.”

Chapter 4

“He’s burning up.”

“You could at least fetch me a bucket of cold water.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“You still don’t get it, do you, Old Man.  You’re never leaving this place.  Not you.  Not fat boy.  Not sick boy.  No one lives and no one leaves.  It’s time you got that through your head.”

“Then shoot us now.  My boy is suffering, and he needn’t be if you’re going to kill us all anyway.  Go ahead.  You’re holding my son’s gun.  Put a bullet in my head.”

Book 3

Chapter 1

My father rarely left my side.  He shifted from the edge of my bed to the upholstered chair.  Sometimes, he stared out my bedroom window, and sometimes he paced, but he seldom walked out and shut the door. 

Something was burning, and I couldn’t form enough words to drop into the conversation, and I couldn’t run if I had to get away.  If Pa would quit stoking the fire, maybe the house wouldn’t burn down, and maybe I’d be able to register why our whitewashed walls had turned into rough dirt and why Hoss was snoring so loud.  Nothing seemed right.  Past and present were all mixed up, and I couldn’t put my thoughts in the right places.

Fire raced up and down my right side.  Was I burning to death?  Why wouldn’t Pa save me instead of poking the fire?  I needed to wake Hoss and get him out of the house, but I didn’t have the strength to stand up and run.  We were all doomed for a hell of a death.

The house rumbled.  The fire had eaten away at the roof, and the house was crumbling around me.  Booming voices.  Cries and pain.  Loud cracks and bits of dirt came from every part of the room, but I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t get away.

As infection set in, I fought my way through fevered dreams, and Pa felt that leaving ranch business behind was the right thing to do.  His worry heightened if I made a wrong move or said the wrong thing, but some things couldn’t be helped.  Sickness was sickness, and there was no way to avoid the rough parts, but the memories could be left behind.

But I remembered the dreams, and they scared me to no end.  How much of them were true?  The house hadn’t burned to the ground, but I could see the dirt walls as clear as glass, and I could see Hoss towering over me.  What did it all mean?

Chapter 2

“Guess I missed the spring dance.”

I’m not sure why I mentioned the dance, but Pa shook his head.  “Let’s see.  Sally Jenkins asked about you when I drove in for supplies, and Jayne Jones asked about you when—”

I raised my good hand in the air.  “I get the picture, Pa.”

“That’s good, Son.”

“Hey, I still don’t understand how we got out of there and made it home.”

Pillows had been propped behind me in my own bed in my own room on the Ponderosa.  Sips of water and bowls of broth were an hourly occurrence, but if that’s what it took to overcome a bullet wound, I was game.

“It was all Hoss, Son.”

“But—”

“Let me finish.”

“If you remember, you pulled a chair next to the wall and we’d hauled him to his feet and sat him down.”

“I remember.”

“When I told Russell Simms to shoot me in the head, it triggered Hoss, and like a man your size rather than his, he leaped up from the chair and landed on top of Simms.  I grabbed the gun—your Colt—and the party was over.  Hoss’s energy was spent, but he’d given me the upper hand.”

“I can’t believe he did that.”

“You know your brother, Joseph.  He wasn’t going to let anything happen to me or you, and that’s how he managed to rush Simms and knock him to the floor.”

“Where’s Hoss now?”

“Probably in the barn.  As you know, the chores never end.”

“Yeah, but is he well enough to do that?”

“It’s been nearly a week, and Hop Sing’s doing his best.”

“I thought he was going to die, and there was nothing I could do to save him.”  When I saw the look on my father’s face, I realized I’d said the wrong thing.  Pa’s sense of guilt was overwhelming, but he cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“Paul said you could start moving around.”

“He did?”

“How about coming down for supper?”

“I’d like that.”  I tried to sit up taller, but with only one working arm, it was tough to do anything.”

“You need help?”

“I’m fine.  Hey, whatever happened to CJ?”

“The doc said he’d live.  Simms shot him close to the elbow, so his days as a deputy are probably over.”

“He seemed like a good man.”

“He was.”

“How’d you find us in the first place?”

“Russell Simms.”

“What?”

“Right place.  Right time.  We were about to turn around and head home when Simms appeared to be coming up from the ground.  CJ and I stopped and stared in disbelief, but after apprehending your captor, we realized there must be an underground cave.  We never thought there’d be an actual room with a stove and furniture.”

“Yeah.  Who’d a thought?”

“Right time.  Right place.”

“Luck was on our side, wasn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“What about Mrs. Davis.  What will happen to her place?”

“She was buried right away, and I didn’t make it to the funeral.  She didn’t have any people, so it’s up to Sheriff Logan.  He’ll figure out what to do.”

“Simms knew an awful lot about you, didn’t he?”

“More than any man should.”

“He sent that telegram and started the whole ball rolling.  Just for revenge.”

“A lovely woman dead, and a good man injured for life.  All because of one man’s need for revenge.”

“It’s sad, isn’t it, Pa?”

My father shook his head and stood up from the edge of my bed.  “I need to get a few things done before supper.  One of us will be up to help you downstairs.”

“You think Hoss is able?”

“Your brother is Hop Sing’s priority.  He’s almost one hundred percent.”

I thought about Hoss wasting away in that underground prison.  I wasn’t sure he’d ever be the same, but like I said a few short minutes ago.  “Luck was on our side.”

“Hey, Pa.”  When my father stopped and turned in the doorway, I had one more thing to say.  “I’m glad Simms didn’t shoot you in the head.”

The End

Summer Challenge for JJ – 2025