Surviving the Wilderness

by jfclover

The wilderness is thick with trees that reach the sky, and bushes emerge from nowhere.  Bits of shale cause me to tumble, and sharp twigs scratch my skin.  More than once, my ankle turns, sending pain through my body, but I can’t stop running.  If I stop, I could die.

I pant and wheeze, but I must stay quiet, breathe, and pray he can’t hear me.  His footsteps come fast; the tempo of every stride connects with my heartbeat.  I veer right, then left.  He’s gaining.  I’ve witnessed that look on his face, the shine in his eyes.  He finds pleasure in my fear.

A meadow lies ahead, and I pick up speed, but my lungs are about to burst.  I trip.  Fall.  Roll.  Scramble back to my feet.  My palms sting.  The stench of blood and other darker things fill my senses.  Ahead lies a cliff, and if I can make it that far ….

Then what?

A deeper cut causes my left hand to throb.  It’s wet.  Blood drips.  He likes to watch me bleed.  Can he follow me by scent alone?  Like a wounded deer?  Will he find me and take me back to hell?

I stay on my feet.  If he catches me … I can’t think about that now.  How long have I been in the wilderness?  Days?  Weeks?  My swollen stomach should tell me, but I don’t know for sure.  Long enough to mark me inside and out.

The cliff is just ahead, but out of nowhere, a hand grabs hold of my arm.  I’m yanked to a halt, and my shoulder is nearly pulled from its socket.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

A violent slap spins me to the ground, but I don’t cry out.  I can’t.  He shrouds me with his body.  His hand covers my mouth, and his weight pushes me into the forest floor.  His heart pounds, and that’s not all.  He’s aroused, and he presses against me.  He enjoys the chase.  He enjoys inciting fear.

He’s won this round.

Chapter 1

The saloon buzzed with excitement.  Thick with cigar smoke and the stench of kerosene lanterns, the remnants of spilled beer permeated the stale, musty air and hung like autumn leaves that had yet to fall.  Stone walls lined the side of the mountain like several other taverns in the boom town, and as soon as Joe had completed his business, he looked forward to a beer and a good night’s sleep before heading back to the Ponderosa.

He’d hauled two gray geldings over the mountains and down into Placerville for his father’s good friend, Jim Jamison.  After gentling them himself, he’d been eager to collect the forty dollars apiece for a job well done.  Jamison was happy to hand over the cash, and Joe was more than happy to pocket his earnings.  Considering he’d met the most beautiful woman west of the Mississippi, the eighty dollars was over and above his monthly earnings and would come in handy on nights he was eager to impress the new girl in town.

Her name was Belinda Alexander, and she’d come in on the noon stage just over a week ago.  Even though she was on her way to San Francisco to visit her Aunt Minerva, Joe had talked her into postponing her trip west.  She agreed, and they‘d been seen in each other’s company more than his father would like, but there was no stopping Joe when a girl was involved.

Tonight, he’d have to settle for dreaming about Belinda.  He wouldn’t be home for two more days, and they had plans to attend Piper’s Opera House upon his return.  And now, with the extra cash in his pocket, he was anxious to show her a night on the town she’d never forget.

After taking that first sip of beer, he found an empty table next to the front window of the saloon.  With stone walls and a ceiling so low he didn’t think Hoss would fit inside, the cave-like atmosphere was oppressive, but he had just stopped in for a drink or two, and he’d be on his way to a decent hotel for the remainder of the night.

Just as he set his empty mug on the table, a woman dressed in a green satin dress sashayed up on his left side and leaned forward.  “Need another, Cowboy?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

But the young lady didn’t walk away.  She stared as though she’d seen a ghost and paled at the sight before her.  “Joe?  Joe Cartwright?”

Though he stared, he couldn’t place the redheaded woman who wore so much paint on her face, she looked like … well, she wasn’t the kind of girl a man would bring home to meet his family.  “Do I know you?”

The young barmaid turned and staggered up to the bar as if her legs had lost all strength, and it was too much trouble to hold the rest of her body steady.  Joe stood from his chair and followed.  She knew who he was, but for the life of him ….

He stood behind her and chose his words carefully.  “Was it something I said?”

She turned and stared into his eyes.  “You really don’t remember?”

As if striking a match and illuminating a pitch-black room, it all came together.  All the memories he’d tried so hard to bury surfaced and wrapped their beefy fingers around his neck like a hangman’s noose.  He tried to breathe, tried to hold it together in front of a crowd of onlookers who were watching and waiting for something extraordinary to happen in their local saloon.

She reached for his arm.  Perhaps she thought it would steady them both.  The shock of seeing each other after four long years was more than either party could handle.  And then there were the onlookers, waiting, wanting to see the worst life had to offer.

“Sissy?”

She smiled.  “Let’s go out back.  Get some air.”

The saloon felt darker.  A line of blue smoke hung low, and the stench of stale beer made Joe gag.  Bile rose in his throat, and he touched his right hand to her back.  “Let’s go.”

He followed behind the young woman who had lived through the same hell as he and had come out damaged but alive.  It’s not the life she’d planned.  At fourteen years old, she, along with fifteen-year-old Joe and two others, her younger brother, Billy, and Jenny Nusbaum, a petite thirteen-year-old blonde who was just growing into womanhood, had been subjected to a man’s evil desire to live in a world that no one in their right mind could imagine.

Even though their captor, Ezekiel Solomon, was serving a prison term, the damage was done, and two of the four young residents of Storey County continued to pay the price for the weeks they spent with a depraved human being.

“I love you both,” Solomon voiced as he was escorted from the courthouse.  “My sweet angels.”

Ben and Hoss stood from their seats, and if not for the fact that they’d checked their guns at the door, Ezekiel Solomon would be a dead man, and father and son Cartwright would’ve been occupying the prison wagon instead of the monster that lost his battle in court.

Sissy sat on a wooden step, but Joe’s nerves were on edge, and he paced back and forth in the narrow alley behind the saloon.  He’d put all those weeks in the wilderness behind him; at least, he thought he had, but when Sissy called out his name, he was right back in that shack, cold and afraid, gagged and tied, stripped of his clothes and his pride.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  I shouldn’t have said anything.”

After swallowing hard, Joe stopped his pacing and stood in front of the girl he never thought he’d see again.  “How’ve you been?  You doing okay?”

“I’m alive.  I’m working, and I eat regular.  What else is there?”

Joe’s sad smile said it all.  Was that the best she could hope for after what they’d been through?  It had been nearly four years.  They were children then, just shy of adulthood—fourteen and fifteen—but the remnants of those long, grueling days lingered and could easily take their minds back to that time, to those hours of torture and isolation and a vile human being who garnered great pleasure in seeing children put to the test.

But Sissy and Joe had survived.  They walked out of the wilderness and out of Zeke Solomon’s life.  They’d testified in a court of law.  They’d seen him punished and sent to prison, and that should’ve been the end of the ordeal, but the end never came.  There was no leaving the past behind.  Even after four years, they couldn’t shake the memories of a man standing over them with a claw hammer until the vile acts were accomplished, and he was satisfied with the results.  It was then that they were rewarded.  Perhaps a piece of candy or a toy more suited for a five-year-old than children who were a bit too mature for a child’s playthings.

“You still living with your Pa and brothers?”

“Yeah.  Still there.”

“Then why are you in Placerville?”

“Had some business with my pa’s old friend.  Thought I’d stay over and head home tomorrow.”

“I see.”

Joe thought hard before he said what needed to be said.  “This isn’t the life for you, Sissy.”  After all, they’d been schoolmates—friends—before the ordeal in the broken-down shack in the wilderness.  “Why don’t you come back to the Ponderosa with me, and we’ll find you a respectable job in Virginia City.”

Sissy chuckled.  “That’s an odd word for you to use, Joe.  I’m a long way from respectable.  If anyone knows that it’s you.”

“Stop that.” 

“Then don’t ruin my day with pointless talk.”

“I just want to help, that’s all.  What about your ma and pa?”

“Don’t you remember?”  Joe rubbed his forehead as though that would bring back a forgotten memory, but luck wasn’t on his side.  “They’re dead, Joe.  Mama and Papa are dead.”

“I’m sorry.  I forgot.”

“Mama shot Papa and then turned the gun on herself.  How could you forget something like that?”

“I’m sorry.  It’s just that I’ve tried to forget everything.”

Sissy covered her face and then slid her fingers down her cheeks before looking up at Joe.  “It’s not you who should be sorry.  I should be the one apologizing.  Forget everything I said.  Sometimes, I can’t think straight.  I don’t mean to be rude, but ….”

“Forget about it, although I’d still like to help.”

“It’s too late, Joe, but thanks for talking to me like I don’t have a past.”

Joe lowered himself on the step beside her.  “Don’t you see?   That’s all it is, Sissy.  The past.  Come home with me.  Please.  Let’s give it a try.”

Chapter 2

They rode into the yard side by side.  Joe had used part of his earnings to buy a decent mount for Sissy and enough supplies that the two of them wouldn’t starve on the two-day trip back to the Ponderosa.  After fixing a simple supper of bacon and beans, they were forced to spend the night high in the Sierras.  The higher they rode, the cooler the air became, and after washing the tin plates in the stream just a few feet away, each had crawled under their bedrolls and used upturned saddles for a backrest.

But when Joe woke with a start, he scrambled to push the intruder away.  Though he wasn’t fully awake, he was well aware of the uncomfortable thickness between his legs.

“What the hell?” 

Sissy was dumbfounded by his outburst.  “Isn’t this what all men dream about?  Isn’t this what they long for?”

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

“I’m only trying to say thank you.  I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“This isn’t the way.  This isn’t what nice girls do.”

Sissy sat up straight and slapped her benefactor across the face.  “I told you already.  I’m not the respectable type.  It’ll never work, you know.  You can’t  just snap your fingers and turn me into a Sunday Social type of girl.”

“I’m sorry.  Maybe I overreacted, but you can’t touch a man like that and expect anything else.”

The silence of the second day’s journey had come to an end.  Joe helped Sissy down off the bay after they rode passed the barn and up to the hitch rail in the yard.  The extra mount would be of no use to him or the ranch.  Just another hayburner to feed, and Pa wouldn’t like that.  Joe would sell Sissy’s mount before the week was out.

“Do you remember my pa and my brothers?”

“Sort of, but it’s been four years, Joe.”

“Not much has changed.  They’ll be glad to see you again.”

“I doubt that.”

“Quit putting yourself down.  Come on.  Let’s see what Hop Sing’s got cooking for supper.”  Just as he reached for Sissy’s hand, the front door opened and Ben Cartwright stepped onto the wooden porch.  “Pa!  Joe called out.  Look who I found in Placerville.”

As he dragged a hesitant girl along with him, he grinned at his father. “Come say hello to Sissy Ambrose.”

Ben stepped forward, but his hesitation surpassed his guest’s own fears of resurrecting the past and bringing the vile return of Ezekiel Solomon’s presence back into their lives.  “Miss Ambrose.  It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Sissy is between jobs, Pa.  I’ll take her into Virginia City tomorrow and … well, you know, see if there might be a job with the widow Shaeffer or maybe something at Jensen’s Mercantile.”

Ben knew exactly what Sissy was and that his son was a dreamer if he thought she could pass for anything else.  “Why don’t the two of you wash up for supper.  Hop Sing’s about ready to serve.  We can talk about going to town later.”

“Sure thing, Pa.”  Joe reached for Sissy’s hand and led her inside the house.  “Let me show you to your room.”

Chapter 3

“Why, Joseph?  After all this time, why would you—”

“You’re not being fair, Pa.  She needs help, and I chose to help her.  Is that so hard to understand?”

The bedside lamp‘s soft glow barely illuminated Joe’s face.  Sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in his nightshirt, he hadn’t planned on his father coming up and giving him a lecture on his personal vision of right and wrong.

“I understand why you want to help the girl, but do you realize it’s been less than a year since you grasped that you could go without drowning yourself in a bottle of whiskey or worse?  You’ve only now gained back all the weight you lost.  You can’t afford to return to that way of life.  Ben pulled the wooden chair closer to Joe’s bed.  “What I’m trying to say is, you’re healthy now, and I’d hate to see you slip back into your old ways.”

“I’ll never be that person again, Pa.  You have to trust me on that.  I’m over everything that happened.  It’s all in the past.  I don’t give it a thought anymore.”

Ben sighed overloud.  “I know you think that, but I’m not sure that thinking and doing are so far apart.”

Joe reached for his father’s right wrist and gently squeezed.  “Trust me, Pa.  I know what I’m doing.”

Ben stood from the overstuffed chair and scooted it back from Joe’s bed before heading to the doorway, where he paused and turned back to Joe.  “Get a good night’s sleep.”

“I will.  Nite, Pa.”

“Goodnight, Son.”

Although he couldn’t accuse his older sons of eavesdropping per se, the two of them had been standing in the hall waiting to hear why in the world their young brother had brought that girl home.

“Let’s go downstairs.”  After pouring three shots of brandy, Ben looked up at his sons.  “I’m worried.”

“We all are, Pa.  It took Joe a long time to get this far.  Sissy Ambrose could send him right back into oblivion.”

“I agree with Adam, Pa.  Ain’t no good having that girl inside the house.”

“Fine.  What would you have me do?”

*~*~*

The three older Cartwrights had almost finished their breakfast when Joe bounded down the stairs, greeted his family, and sat in his usual place to the right of his father.  “How is everyone?”

“How can you be so cheery so early in the morning?”

“Easy, Adam.   A good supper and a good night’s rest are just the ticket.”

While Joe scooped bacon and eggs onto his plate, Ben rested his elbows on the table and turned his attention to his youngest.  “What are your plans for the day?”

“I’m not sure.  Sissy will need something new to wear before she can hit anyone up for a job, so I guess we’ll buy her a new dress and go from there.”

“I take it Jim Jamison was pleased with the pair of grays.”

“Very.  Paid in full.”

“And you plan to spend all that hard-earned money on Miss Ambrose.  Am I right?”

“Not all.  Some.”

“You’re testing my patience, Joseph.”

“Why?  What do you have against that girl?”

“It’s not the girl, Son.  It’s what she represents.”

“What does that mean?”

“Memories, Joe.  Memories.”

 Afraid that she was interrupting, Sissy stopped on the landing and waited for an invitation to continue down the stairs.  Joe jumped up from his chair, crossed the room, and reached for her hand.  “You hungry?”

The young lady chuckled.  “It’s way too early for that, Joe.”

“Coffee?”

“Perfect.”

The elder Cartwrights stood until Sissy was seated at the table next to Joe, and after he poured her a fresh cup, the three men took their seats and refilled their cups also.  When Joe pulled stunts like this, it took a great deal of understanding to get through to the other side. 

In a few days, Sissy, who’d once been a schoolmate and then suffered through the ordeal alongside Joe, should be employed and would’ve secured a room at one of the local boarding houses.  Life would return to normal, but for now, patience ruled the all-male household.

“What are your plans for today, Joseph?”

“As I said, Sissy needs a new dress, and after that, I can show her around town.  The last time she was here, Virginia City was no more than tents and shacks.  I’ve told her about some of the fancy buildings, but I think she’ll be shocked at how the town’s grown over the years.”

“Yes, I’m sure she will.”

Joe smiled at his father’s calm demeanor.  Knowing he wasn’t at all pleased with his eagerness to help the girl, his father kept a civil tongue and would never embarrass a guest inside the house.  That wasn’t Pa’s way.

“Guess we should get going.”

Ben watched them leave through the front door, but his mind had taken a back seat to the present.  Sissy brought back memories that—like his son—he thought were buried, but they’d come back in brilliant hues to haunt him.  If Joe had buried the past, then Ben had to do the same, although seeing Sissy Ambrose again had set his mind on a direct course down memory lane.

After days and weeks of searching, he and Hoss and Adam had split up to cover more ground.  Ben was surrounded by tall lodgepole and ponderosa pines, but the fallen log, the only one that mattered, lay horizontal next to a smoldering campfire and an empty bottle of whiskey.  How could he put it all behind him?  How could he erase the sight of his young son, his trousers loose around his ankles, and his torso bent over that rough log?  Sissy, naked and chained and standing to Joe’s left, had been made to watch a deviant named Ezekiel Solomon drop his woolen trousers and step up behind his young son, but when Ben cocked his revolver, Solomon released the boy’s hips and turned his head.  And though Ben had every right to shoot, he would take the man in for trial instead.  Evil had set its sights on four children, and two were already dead.  Two remained alive, and one was his boy, Joseph.

Chapter 4

“I had no idea, Joe.  I don’t recognize anything at all.”

“That’s because nothing was here when we were in school, only a few miners pounding away at the mountainside, hoping to strike it rich.”

From one end of C Street to the other, Joe drove the buckboard as slow as he could so Sissy could take everything in.    Between the twenty mule teams that pulled heavy loads over the Sierras and the locals of Storey County driving into town for supplies, the streets bustled with noise and excitement.

Women were in short supply.  The whore houses were always wanting, and so were the saloons, but Joe wanted more for Sissy.  A dressmaker’s assistant or perhaps a job in one of the new restaurants or hotels.  There was plenty of work if a woman was eager and able.

“Let’s get you that dress.”

Sissy turned to Joe.  “Why are you doing this?”

“You sound like my father.”

“Well?”

“I want you to have a decent life.  You don’t have to work in a saloon forever.”

“You’re such a dreamer, Joe.  No one would take a girl like me seriously.”

“Take pride in yourself, Sissy.  No one here knows your past.  Bury it.  Make a new life.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Let’s get that dress.”

The two strolled hand in hand up C Street until they came to Dolly Smith’s dress shop.  “Come on.  Let’s see what she has to offer.”

Joe opened the door and let Sissy through first.  “Hey, Miss Dolly.”

“Joe Cartwright.  What on earth?”

“My friend needs a new dress.”

Dolly walked toward the two young people.  “You’ve come to the right place.  What’s your name, Sweetheart?”

“Sissy … Sissy Ambrose.”

“Sissy Ambrose.  That name sounds familiar.  Do I know your family?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Sissy needs a new dress, and she also needs a new job.”

“I can furnish the dress, but I can’t use anyone right now.  I’ll keep you in mind, though.”  Dolly took Sissy’s hand and led her to the front window.  “Do any of these garments appeal to you?”

Sissy turned toward Joe.

“Anything you want is fine.”

She pointed at a blue checked dress on the headless mannequin.  “The blue one looks nice.  Do you like it, Joe?”

“Looks good to me.”

Dolly shimmied it off the mannequin and carried it back to a fitting room for Sissy.  “Come out when you’re ready, Dear.”  She turned back to Joe.  “What a lovely girl.”

“Yes, she is.”

“That’s a nasty scar on the side of her face, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Ma’am.  It happened when she was young.  It hasn’t faded much with time.”

“That’s a pity.  Pretty girl otherwise.”

“Yes, she is.”

Dolly’s hands flew up to cover her mouth.  “I remember it all now.  It was one of the first articles printed in the Enterprise.  Where are they now?  An editorial written two or three years after the fact.  Am I right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”  Joe fought the memory of the day in the wilderness when Zeke turned on Sissy, his claw-hammer in his right hand.  Nothing about that man was pleasant, but as sunlight filtered through a tree-filled sky, the peaceful afternoon became one of the worst.

“You’ve watched me play with Joe and Billy, and though I haven’t taken either one yet, I feel like they’d enjoy watching how many ways a real man can take a woman.  If you’d be so kind as to spread those legs and lie over this fallen tree, you and I can entertain the young men.  Sound like a plan?  I haven’t had you from behind, and I think today is as good as any.  Don’t you?”

Sissy—naked as usual—backed away from Zeke, but he was quick to grab her right arm and pull her toward him.  “Please,” she cried.  “Don’t do this.”

“Oh, My Sweet Girl.  We must forget the normal routine and try different things.  Jenny gladly lay over the log so we could enjoy each other’s company, but Joe and Billy were tied up at the time, and I want them to see how it’s done. 

“I won’t.  I won’t.”

The action was swift.  Billy and Joe had been chained side by side—wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle—with Billy hovering Joe’s right.  Running was impossible, and they’d been summoned to the fallen log for an afternoon of entertainment, but what they saw was a young lady fighting and scratching her way to an early grave.

Would Joe be next?  Solomon had done everything but penetrate him.  He’d stripped him of his clothes and touched him like no man should touch another.  He, too, had lain over the log, although Solomon had only taunted him with his fingers, spreading his cheeks as if it was time.  Tears ran down Joe’s cheeks and dripped on the forest floor.  How could anyone … but it wasn’t his time.  The teasing was nearly as bad as the real thing.  Joe didn’t know when or where it would happen, and it frightened him, and when the opportunity arose, he ran, but even that turned out badly.  Zeke had caught up, and Zeke’s arousal had brought tears to Joe’s eyes, but the man controlled himself and hauled him back to camp.

Jenny had been buried days ago, and Joe feared the same fate would shadow Sissy if she didn’t do as Solomon wanted.  But that wasn’t the case.  Sissy had been scarred for life.  The cut on her face would always be a reminder of the wilderness, and when the cut wasn’t taken care of, when blood dripped from the far side of the log, Joe closed his eyes and wept for his friend.  The shiver that ran through him in the wilderness took hold again in the dress shop, and he had to steady himself against the wooden counter.

“What do you think, Little Joe?”

 Joe left the memories behind and slapped a smile on his face.  The dress fit as though it were made for her.  “It’s perfect, Miss Dolly.”

“Yes.  I think you’re right.  You look divine, Sissy.”

“Joe?”

“Divine!”

“I hope everything goes well for you, Dear.  I mean, after all you’ve been through.”

“We need to go, Dolly.  How much is the dress?”

“Did I speak out of turn?” 

“How much for the dress?”

“Oh, um, Two seventy-five.”

Joe handed her three dollars.  “Keep the change, Dolly.  We need to be on our way.”

He took Sissy by the arm and led her out of the shop and down the hill toward Daisy’s Café.  “I could use a bite.  How about you?”

“No one will know me, right?  Isn’t that what you said?  One person, Joe.  You blurt out my name to one person, and she’s all consumed with the story in the newspaper.”

Joe ducked his head as if not looking at Sissy would make Dolly’s realization go away.  He didn’t have an answer.  Saying he was sorry sounded stupid, and so he said nothing at all.

With two cups of coffee and two pieces of apple pie sitting in front of them, Sissy didn’t wait for Joe to rattle on about starting a new life.  She knew better, and all of his efforts were a huge waste of time.  She’d whored herself out to any man with cash in his hands for the past four years, and some things couldn’t be changed.  That’s who she was.  That’s all she was good for.  That’s what Ezekiel Solomon had left her with—nothing but a body that should be abused by men of all shapes and sizes.  He knew all along that if he left her alive, that’s what her life would become.  Why didn’t Joe understand?

“I appreciate the new dress, and I’ll pay you back with my next paycheck, but I can’t do things your way.  I can’t be what you want me to be.”

“Sissy—”

“Shut up, Joe.  I overheard what Dolly said.  The scar on my face is a reminder of our days spent in the wilderness.  It doesn’t fade with time, and it marks me.  I’ll never have a suitable face for a proper job.  I am what I am, Joe.  The men I know are only interested in one thing, and they can see past the scar and do their business.  Maybe I don’t get the best tips, but I have survived a long time in my profession.  Please don’t make me feel ashamed of what I do best.”

She sat across from Joe, and when tears formed in his eyes, she knew she’d gone too far, but it needed to be said.  Wasting time on a girl like her was a fruitless effort.  Joe had his life, and she had hers.  Maybe if her parents hadn’t died, things would’ve turned out different.  She knew how the Cartwrights lived.  Everyone in Storey County knew they were an exceptional family.  One for all and all for one.  They respected each other, and between Mr. Cartwright and Joe’s brothers, they got Joe back on track.  She’d fallen between the cracks and wasn’t distressed by her lot in life.  Joe shouldn’t be either.

“So what happens now?”

“If you’ll lend me a bit more cash, I’ll get a room and search for employment tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

“I appreciate everything you tried to do, Joe.  You’re the best man I’ve ever known.  Even … even in the woods.  I wouldn’t be alive now if you hadn’t been by my side.”

Joe pulled a twenty-dollar note from his wallet and handed it to Sissy.  “No need to repay me.  It’s the least I can do.”  Before anything else was said, Joe stood and left the café. 

*~*~*

Ben paced the room until Adam stood from his chair and suggested that he sit down and quit worrying about his youngest.  “You know Joe.  He’s probably getting Sissy settled for the night.”

“That boy should’ve been home hours ago.  It’s after ten o’clock.”

Hoss glanced up at Adam before speaking to his father.  “Want us to go find him?”

Ben turned away from his adult sons and stared into the flames, hoping a reasonable answer would appear.  “No, Son.  He’s old enough to—”

“But if he’s in some kind of trouble.”

“No.  If that’s the case, he needs to figure it out for himself.  We can’t be expected to track him down every time he leaves the house.”

“But Pa.”

“No, Hoss.”

Chapter 5

As rain battered the streets, whiskey filled the void, smooth and warm.  Just like a year ago, the golden swill went down like cold well water on a hot day, and just like in the wilderness, when Ezekiel Solomon lined up four weary children and forced each child to drink straight from the bottle, it changed their lives forever.

Jenny Nesbaum was the first to succumb to the man’s torture.  Whether she meant to or not, she drank more than the others, and when Zeke stripped her naked, bent her over the fallen log, and chained her wrists underneath, he forced himself inside her until her cries subsided and she became as limp as a rag doll.  No one realized.  No one knew Zeke had battered her to death until later that evening.

Although Joe didn’t think Zeke intended for her to die that night, the pain she’d endured had come to an end.  Never again would she be chained, forced over that log, and rammed at full force by an unstable lunatic.  As Joe dug her grave, he wished he’d been the one who’d surrendered his life so that Zeke could never take him like he’d taken each of the girls.  

Though it was never Sissy’s intention, she’d brought back every memory he thought he’d set aside so he could live his life free of Ezekiel Solomon and the wilderness, but it wasn’t to be, and as if it were yesterday, those weeks of torment lay heavy on his mind.

“Zeke wasn’t the first, you know.”

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“Zeke,” Sissy said. “He wasn’t the first man who took me to his bed.  My father was a drunkard, and when he and my mother fought, he came to my bed soon after.” 

“Your father?”

“Since I was the only other female in the house, he said I had to do what my mother wouldn’t.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You get used to things, Joe.  Since I was eight years old, men have been using me.  It’s almost like Zeke knew that I was already spoiled.”

“How could he know?  What about Jenny?”

“What about her?”

“Do you think she suffered the same fate?”

“We’ll never know, will we?”

Jenny was dead, and Joe had buried her on a moonlit night in the wilderness.  “You’re right.  We’ll never know.”

Not every conversation was as alarming as the one Sissy told Joe about her father when they were chained to each other in the wilderness, and Zeke had gone for supplies.  Had he been so sheltered on the Ponderosa that the bad things life had to offer were never brought to light?

Joe’s bottle had run dry, and evening had faded long ago.  It was time to head back to the ranch, but where had he left his horse?  Had he stabled the animal?  No.  Sissy had been with him.  They’d left the Ponderosa that morning, and he’d driven the buckboard, but where in God’s name had he parked the damn conveyance? 

Belinda  “Oh, God no!”

Was this the night he was supposed to take her to the opera house?  Even though he’d had more than his share of liquor, should he pay her a visit?  Was she dressed in her finest and waiting for him to knock on her door?  He blinked his eyes as though that would trigger his memory, but that wasn’t the case.  He stood from his chair and made his way to the batwings.  It was time to leave the saloon.

But as he stepped off the boardwalk, he stumbled and fell, his body limp from too much alcohol, and he lay face down in a puddle on C Street that had formed after the evening’s turbulent spring storm.  And as he tried to push himself up on his hands and knees, John Hammond, who sat a tall, black gelding, didn’t see the drunken fool and trampled right over the fallen body. 

Jumping down off his mount, Hammond bent down to see what harm he had caused and instantly drew a crowd of onlookers.  “That’s Little Joe Cartwright.  Someone get the doc!”

When Paul arrived in front of the Bucket of Blood, he was surprised to see the young man and hoped he hadn’t fallen back into the hellish nightmare he’d struggled with not so long ago.  The doctor thought Joe had come through with flying colors, but the drunken boy he saw lying in the street gave no sign that an end had ever come.

Chapter 6

“He hasn’t opened his eyes.  Hasn’t said a word.”

“Give him time, Ben.  It’s been less than six hours.”

“What happened to my boy, Paul?  Why Joseph?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”  Paul stepped away from the bed he kept in a spare room for nights like this. “I know as much as you do, My Friend.”  After rolling his shirt sleeves down, he buckled his bag and set it aside.  He’d tended the boy’s physical wounds—the bruises and cuts the horse’s hooves had made—and there was nothing more he could do until Joe woke and could explain if there was more to the story.  “We’ll have to keep an eye on those ribs, but all in all, Joe’s a lucky boy.  The ground had been softened by the rain, and that may have saved his life.  He sustained fewer injuries than a man in his condition should.”

Ben had been summoned before dawn.  He’d left his older sons at home and had ridden to town by himself.  “We have a ranch to run.  We can’t all be hovering over a boy who can’t find his way home.”

Though he covered his true feelings, there was some truth to the matter.  For years, they’d stood by and cared for a boy who didn’t want to be looked after.  The ranch suffered.  Ben, Hoss, and Adam suffered, but Joe suffered most of all.  And for good reason.  But they all thought he’d made it past all the trauma that had sent him into several years of a drunken stupor as he tried to suppress his days spent with Ezekiel Solomon.

After pulling a chair close and giving the doctor a break, Ben sat next to his son and tried not to remember the last time his boy had been found beaten and bruised.  But it wasn’t just the physical trauma.  That was only part of Joe’s recovery.  No one could erase those weeks spent with three other children in a remote section of the Ponderosa they called the wilderness.

They should’ve found him sooner.  How they missed that old, dilapidated line shack, Ben would curse himself forever over that.  Even though he thought he’d put those long days of searching out of his mind, they were fresh now, and he wrestled with the memories, especially after he and his boys had split up.

“Hoss, you take the high ridge.  Adam, check the bottomland.  I’ll ride straight ahead.  We’ll meet at Carson’s Crossing in two hours.”

Those were the last words Ben had spoken before he rode into his son’s nightmare, but the torturous days of recovery had only begun.  Sure.  Even though Ben had gotten there in time to save his boy from the worst kind of trauma that could ruin a young man, the nightmare didn’t end for another three years.

He didn’t have to ask.  He knew where the money had gone and why.  Joseph, his Little Joe, had taken cash from the safe to buy one of the medications that was killing him one day at a time.  If it wasn’t whiskey, it could have been laudanum or straight-out opium he purchased from a gentleman in Chinatown. 

His son had found three different ways to numb the pain.  Each day was a different remedy for what ailed him.  They’d found Joe dead to the world in places they’d never thought to look. After his days spent with Solomon—the man Ben called a beast—Joe’s memories of the two girls, the acts they’d had to perform, and what was in store for him were ever-present in his mind.

Dark alleys.  Next to rubbish bins behind his favorite saloons.  A stall next to Cochise inside the  Virginia City livery.  On the side of the road that led back to the Ponderosa.  There was no special place that Joe chose to collapse into oblivion.  Anywhere he’d become too overwhelmed by the world around him, he’d use one or more of his remedies until he blacked out. 

But Joe wasn’t forthcoming.  As a family, Ben had always taken pride in having three fine sons who could come to him with their problems, but not this time.  Joe was tight-lipped about the ordeal, although he assured his father that if Ben hadn’t gotten there when he did, then all hell would’ve broken loose, and Zeke Solomon would have ….

“We were held hostage in that old line shack.  End of story.”

“Joseph, please.  Two people died.”

“Yes.  That was unfortunate.”

Those were the types of conversations that Joe was able to give, but it was like another young man was talking.  Those weren’t Joe’s words.  It wasn’t his voice.  As much as Ben tried to make headway, Joe’s lips were sealed.

*~*~*

“Paul?” Ben hollered through the doorway.  “He’s waking up.”

Carrying two cups of coffee, the doctor handed one to Ben and sipped from his own cup as he watched the boy’s eyes flutter awake.

“No, Sissy.  You don’t have to do this.”

Ben looked to Paul for answers but knew the doctor had none.  Only Joe could provide any truths from the wilderness.  The boy’s dreams were often rough and all-telling, and Ben would try to make sense of the few words Joe said out loud.

With his back flat against the tree and his hands chained behind him, there wasn’t anything he could do to prevent Sissy from kneeling in front of him and doing what seasoned whores got paid to do.  As she latched onto him, his entire body shivered with a grown man’s excitement at the prospect. 

Out of desperation, he’d fought the chains that cuffed his wrists until his skin was red and raw, and his agony matched the girl’s.  He’d held his tears until the eruption wracked his body and left him crying out, and in his fevered state, his knees buckled, and his body slipped along the jagged bark until he and Sissy both hit the ground.  But the next words he heard were from his tormentor.  “Swallow.”

“Joseph.  Can you hear me, Son?”  The boy’s eyes fluttered open, but his gaze was distant, searching.  “Son.  It’s Pa.”

“Pa?”

“I’m right here, Boy.”  Ben reached down and circled his long, warm fingers around his son’s icy hand.  “You’re cold.  Do you need another blanket?”  Ben didn’t wait for an answer.  He crossed the room and pulled a patchwork quilt off the rack.  “This should help.”

Still sipping his coffee, Paul stood off to the side and watched his old friend play nursemaid to a broken son.  Ben had more practice with this boy than the other two put together.  He knew what was needed.  He knew when to provide comfort and when to step back.  From a man of his generation, they were uncommon gestures, a genuine act of love and compassion that was a sight to behold.

“He forced her, Pa.”

“I know that, Son.”

“I couldn’t save her.  I couldn’t save Jenny or Billy.  They’re dead, Pa.  Only Sissy and me ….”

“You need to rest.  Let it go, Joseph.  It was a long time ago, and it’s over.”

Chapter 7

Three days passed, and to the naked eye, normalcy prevailed. Joe’s horse trampling incident wasn’t as worrisome as he had first thought, although Ben was tentative about sending his young son out to work so soon, but Joe insisted.

John Hammond came by to apologize again— “I never saw him in the street, Mr. Cartwright, but I’m truly sorry this thing happened.” —The gracious young man was told all was well, and he needn’t worry.

Nothing more was said about the unfortunate incident on C Street, or Joe’s time in the wilderness, or why he felt the need to get drunk when Sissy Ambrose set him straight about her lot in life.  The girl’s story had been told, and not much more could be done to help Sissy change her life around.  Joe tried to accept the fact, but it seemed he might never quit blaming himself for her downfall.

The three Cartwright boys rode out after breakfast.  Roundup was underway, and everyone was needed.  After the spring rains, mud bogs were common in the low country, and the creeks ran high.  Cows weren’t the brightest creatures and could find themselves in trouble more often than not.

Joe lost patience as the day drew on.  He’d pulled three one-year-old calves from the mud and scooted two mama cows out of Olive Creek.  Though his mind was elsewhere, he did his part and wouldn’t have Adam jumping all over him for slacking, but other issues plagued his mind. 

Since his return from the wilderness, he realized he wasn’t worthy of the Cartwright name.  No one had said anything unkind, but he saw the way his family stared when they thought he wasn’t looking.  He was sure that they thought there was more to the story, that he was hiding a secret that would ruin a young man if told.  It had kept him from moving forward.  He would never become the man they thought he should be.  It was as clear as a starry night, but he kept silent.  Through hardship and humiliation, torment and disturbing behavior, he’d learned to hold his tongue around Zeke, and after returning home, he did the same.  He kept his thoughts to himself.

“Let’s break for lunch, Little Brother.”

Joe remained mounted.  “Go ahead, Hoss.  I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve gotta eat something.”

“Why?  So I can grow up and look like you?”

“Let’s face it, Little Joe.  It wouldn’t hurt if you put on a pound or two.”

A bottle of whiskey sounded ten times better than a cold beef sandwich, and since they’d been chasing steers on the eastern side of the ranch, Joe figured a quick trip into Virginia City might make the afternoon more bearable.

“There’s something I have to do.  I won’t be long.”

Before Hoss could argue the point, Joe took off, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

*~*~*

“Give me a bottle, Bruno.”

“You sure about that, Little Joe?”

“No, I’m playing games.  Of course, I’m sure.  In fact, make that two.”

The bartender set two full bottles on the bar, and Joe laid the exact amount of coins in Bruno’s beefy hand.  “Thanks.  It’s nice doing business with you.”

“Anytime, Little Joe.”

With a bottle in each hand, Joe left the saloon, deposited the liquor in his saddlebags, and rode back toward the ranch.  Hoss would’ve faced Adam’s wrath after Joe ran out in the middle of the day, but he hadn’t planned on being gone long.  The trip to town didn’t take much longer than it would take his brothers to eat and have a short rest before taking on a long afternoon of chasing ornery steers. 

But plans often change mid-stream.  When Joe pulled a bottle from his bag and leaned back against an old oak on Sattler’s Ridge, the warmth of the whiskey calmed his thoughts and eased the tension that dogged him every waking hour.  Sissy had only intensified his recollections of the past.  She’d brought his memories back to the surface; memories he thought he’d buried had blossomed as if they’d only left the wilderness yesterday.  He couldn’t live through the aftermath again.  His family had lived with his intense and risky behavior for three long years, and the way he felt today, nothing could stop him from slipping back into that dreadful way of life.

Adam and Hoss would worry over his whereabouts, but none of that seemed important.  The whiskey went down easy and provided a gentle warmth, and with his legs crossed at the ankles and his head resting against the trunk of the tree, he was quite content.  Leaving now would be a waste of time and energy.  Staying on the grassy knoll forever seemed like a dream come true.  He closed his eyes and let his mind wander ….

His heart beat like a bass drum when Pa picked up the shattered bottle of laudanum and stared at him like he was a criminal who should be tried and hanged on the same day.  He’d been so careful. He’d kept it hidden for months, but when his father walked into his room just as he held the bottle to his lips, he panicked and dropped the darn thing on the floor.

“Why, Joseph?”

“You know damn well why.”

“I thought you were past all that.”

Joe chuckled at his father’s idea of moving on with his life.  “I’ll never be past all of that, Pa.  You don’t understand.  No one does.”

“Then tell me.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, Son.  Tell me everything.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.  I have all day.  Start at the beginning.  It might help to get it all out in the open.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Why?  Why am I wrong?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“You’re calling me a liar?”

Ben caught Joe off guard, but how much could he say and still keep his sanity?  He couldn’t let his father know everything.  He couldn’t live in the same house with Pa and his brothers if he unveiled the entirety of the situation.

“Okay.  Here goes.  Sissy and Billy lived close enough to walk home from school, but Jenny Nesbaum and I were saddling our horses out in Miss Jones’ lean-to when Zeke first appeared.  He had a gun in his waistband, and he let us know we were to ride out and he’d follow right behind.   When we came upon Sissy and Billy, they were instructed to mount up behind the two of us.  The five of us headed north and ended up at that rundown shack in the wilderness.”

“Good, Son.  That’s a start. What else can you tell me about that first day?”  Joe looked away.  How in God’s name could he tell his father?  And then Ben took Joe’s hand in his and gently squeezed.  “Joseph?”

“He took a fancy to Jenny right off, and while the rest of us were handcuffed to each other, he stood in front of us and … I can’t do this, Pa.”

“Please, Joseph.  Go on.”

Although Joe didn’t understand how this could help, he told his father how their first night with Zeke progressed.  “He pulled Jenny from the line and stood her in front of him.  Then he unbuttoned her blouse and loosened the ties on her camisole.  Once her clothing was removed, she tried to cover herself, but he would have none of that and slapped her face hard.  He pushed her to her knees and had her unbutton his trousers.  Do I have to say more?”

“No.  That’s enough.”

“Sissy was next, but it wasn’t Zeke.  He made her do her brother.  Her own brother, Pa.  He’s a sick bastard, and humiliation was high on his list.”

“And you?”

Joe was somewhere between laughing and crying.  “I was spared.”

What he didn’t tell his father was that he and Billy were dragged from their cots inside the cabin in the dead of night, and Joe was ordered to drop his drawers and lie face down over the fallen log.  Billy—an eleven-year-old child—was ordered to stand at attention and observe Zeke in action. 

“Watch and learn, My Little Friend.”

Zeke stood behind him, and Joe could hear subtle movements but was unable to see what the man was doing, and though he couldn’t see Billy either, he knew he was near.   And then it began.  When wet fingers massaged his inner cheeks close to his anus, Joe’s body tensed and became as rigid as the fallen log.  “Relax, Son.”

“I’m not your son, you son of a bitch.”

“You want to play rough?  Is that it?  I can oblige.”

After their brief conversation, nothing was sacred, and that’s when the cat-o’-nine tails was taken to his back for the first time.  Rather than showing Billy how a man used another man, Zeke had pulled out his whip.

“Next time, you’ll treat me with respect.”

*~*~*

The sun had dropped low in the sky as Adam and Hoss rode up Sattler’s Ridge and caught sight of their wayward brother.  “I think he’s asleep.”

“He might be more than that, Hoss.  Joe’s not a baby.  He’s a bit old to need a nap in the afternoon.”

“What are you saying, Adam?”

“Never mind.”

“You wouldn’t have brought it up if it were nothing.  Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I think he’s drunk, Hoss.”

“Aw … come on, Adam.  He ain’t done that for over a year.”

“You’re right.  I hope I’m wrong.”

After climbing to the top of the ridge, the last vestiges of sun glinted off an empty whiskey bottle lying next to Joe’s left hand. “Why are you always right, Big Brother?”  Hoss knelt on one knee and patted his young brother’s face, but the boy was passed out cold.  “He can’t ride alone, Adam.”

Disgusted with Little Joe, Adam mounted his horse, and Hoss handed the kid up to him.  With Sport’s reins in one hand, Adam held Joe around the waist, and they started down the hill to the road below.  Hoss gathered Cochise’s reins and followed close behind.

Chapter 8

“No one can sleep longer and harder than that boy.”

“Good thing Pa’s not here to see him.”

“You’re right there, Adam.  He won’t be home from that cattlemen’s meeting until later tonight.  Maybe Joe will be—”

“Be what?  Sober?  Ashamed?  Remorseful?  Don’t count on it.  He does what he wants, and Pa has to pick up the pieces.  How many times, Hoss?”

“Back off, Adam.  The kid’s been through a lot.”

“I agree, but enough is enough.  It’s time he grew up and took responsibility for his life and stopped trying to ruin everyone else’s.”

“He’s having a hard time.”

Adam sighed overloud.  “You’re worse than Pa.”

By the time Ben arrived home, the supper dishes had been cleared, and two of his sons sat in front of a roaring fire.  Adam, with a book in his hands, and Hoss working on a lariat, it was a comfort to know his sons were home and safe, but what about number three?

Both boys had looked his way when Ben burst through the front door and tossed his hat on the credenza.  “How’s everything going?”

“Fine, Pa.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“He’s in bed.”

“So early?  Is everything all right?”

Adam glared at Hoss, but his younger brother found that the logs in the fireplace were worthy of his attention.  “It was a long day, Pa.”

“Don’t sugarcoat the problem, Hoss.  The kid left at lunchtime, and by the time we found him, he’d downed an entire bottle of whiskey.  He’s upstairs sleeping it off.”

Ben loosened his gun belt, coiled it, and set it next to his hat.  He’d have to go upstairs, but he had mixed feelings about what was to be done with his youngest.  The boy was still hurting, but drinking wasn’t the answer.  Whiskey got him in trouble last time, and it would get him in trouble again.  Wasn’t it a father’s duty to … my God. He didn’t know anymore.  He thought this whole business was behind them.  That damn Sissy.  He only had her to blame, but Joe should’ve been stronger.  At nineteen, he should know that he can’t fall back into the trap of alcohol and laudanum and opium.  Three ways to numb the pain.  Three ways to end a young man’s life if he wasn’t careful.

Ben crossed the room and hesitated at the bottom of the stairs.  “Goodnight, Boys.”

“Nite, Pa.

“Goodnight, Pa.”

Looks passed between the brothers, but nothing more was said.

As he climbed the stairs, Ben tried to block the memories of his youngest, who’d nearly raped a girl when he was eighteen years old.   If Little Joe had gone to prison at that age, he would’ve had men like Zeke all over him.

 If she hadn’t been a saloon girl, charges would’ve been filed.  Per Sheriff Coffee’s account, Joe had ripped the girl’s dress from her body and, after throwing her over the brass footboard of her bed, he covered her mouth and tried to take her from behind, but something ….

“Whores will put up with a lot, Ben, but Joe nearly raped that girl.  Something stopped him, but he won’t talk.  He won’t explain.”

“I don’t understand.  You’re sure it was Little Joe?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?  The boy was crouched down in the corner of her room, crying his eyes out.  Granted, I’ve only been sheriff of this town for two months, but I’ve been sheriffin’ for twenty years total.  I know my business.  I wouldn’t  have locked your boy up if someone else had been that rough with the girl.”

“What do we do now?”

“Her name is Neila Reily, and she said she wouldn’t press charges, but if this happens again, Ben.”

“It won’t, Roy.  I promise you, it won’t.”

*~*~*

The door creaked open, and Ben walked into his son’s room.  Lying flat on his back, the blankets barely covering his legs, Ben looked down at his youngest son.  If the boy were to celebrate another birthday, Ben had to think clearly.  He couldn’t let the ever-present feeling of helplessness grab hold.  He couldn’t overprotect.  He had to stay strong, but when the boy began thrashing ….

“Shoot me, Zeke.  Stop all the nonsense and shoot me.  You’ve killed two already.  One more won’t matter.”

“That’s not the plan.  Not the plan at all, Little Boy.”  With his pistol pointed at a handcuffed Joe, Zeke held a shirtless Sissy in front of him and walked his fingers around each breast until her nipples stood straight and hard.  “Want some of this, Little Joe?  Want to show her how much of a man you really are?”

Joe turned his head.  Sissy couldn’t bear to look him in the eye, and he couldn’t look at her.  “Drop the skirt, Sissy, and drop everything underneath.”

“Please don’t ….”

“Now, Sissy.”

Zeke removed his hand from her breasts and took a step back so she could undress.  The skirt dropped to the ground, but she hesitated.  “Let’s not dawdle, Sweetheart.  Get it done.”  The girl dropped her undergarments and stood with her legs crossed and her hands covering her breasts.  “You did fine, Sissy.  Real fine.  Let’s go.”

Zeke grabbed the crook of her arm and moved her toward Joe.  Though he was taking a big chance by removing the cuffs from the boy’s wrists, he wanted to see the two of them go at it together.  He’d had Sissy straight on and from behind, but he’d never put these two children together, and it only seemed right that the two of them should mate.  Since the boy had an aquiline nose and perfect cheekbones, and the girl had rosy lips and sky-blue eyes, if all went well, they’d have fine-looking offspring, and handsome, white children were always in demand.

“Let’s go, you two.  Get that fucking cock inside her now!”  Joe stood in front of Sissy, but he froze.  He’d never been with a woman before, and he never thought his first time would be like this.  “Do I have to show you how, Little Boy?”

Joe didn’t move, which set Zeke into a fit of rage.  Like before, the cat-o’-nine tails that had been attached to his belt since day one, the knotted whip would leave hundreds of marks on Joe’s back and shoulders.  As it tore through his skin like the leather cords were intended—a frenzied cat’s claws lashing and cutting—the flogging left Joe to cry out and sink to his knees in pain.  The whip was designed to cause a severe degree of agony, and it was nothing short of a miracle that the young man lived through the thrashing.  When Zeke lost his temper, children died.

Joe’s punishment said it all.  A silent nightmare had taken his son back to the wilderness and a night of torment.  Ben’s plans to keep a stern continence, to let his son know that his drunken behavior wouldn’t be tolerated, were dismissed the minute he walked into his boy’s room and saw the continued suffering.

“Joseph.”

“No!”

“Joseph, it’s Pa.  Wake up, Son.”

“Can’t.  Can’t do it.”

“Joe.  It’s Pa.”

Fighting to move away from the lashing, Joe soared into a seated position before realizing it was only a dream, and it was his father’s words, not Zeke’s, that were being spoken.  “Pa …  I didn’t realize.”

“You were caught in a dream, Son.”

Joe raked his hand through his hair.  “Yeah.”

“You okay now?”

“Okay as I’ll ever be.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Son.  You have the rest of your life to live, and as quickly as the memories return, they’ll fade.  Trust me, Joe.”

“I’d like to, Pa, but it’ll never go away.  Zeke will be inside my head till the day I die.”

“Only if you let him.  If you don’t push him out and bury him six feet under, which is where he belongs, the monster wins, and you’ll never be free.”

Joe shook his head in disbelief.

Chapter 9

“You can’t make me stay home, Pa.”  The ease of conversation during Saturday morning’s breakfast was interrupted by Joe’s abrupt remark.

“I can and I will, Joseph.”

“Why, Pa?  Why can’t I ride out with Hoss and Adam?”

“I think you know why.”

“That’s not fair.  I had a bad day, and it’s over.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“What do you want me to say, Pa?  It will never happen again?  I can’t say that.  I’m not your perfect little boy who obeys all the rules.  There are times when I can’t, but you don’t understand that, do you?  You want to see that fifteen-year-old kid that you can control with just a sideways glance.  That’s not who I am anymore.  I’m not the same little boy.  I’m different now.”

With his elbows planted on either side of his breakfast plate, Ben pressed his fingertips against his forehead.  His young son was right.  He couldn’t control the boy’s life.  Joe had to use his own devices to monitor his actions.  He needed to find his own path out of the wilderness.

“You’re right, Son.  I have no business keeping you home when you should be out working.”

“Thanks, Pa.”

“No foolishness.”

“Right.”

“I want you to ride out with your brothers and ride back home when they do.  Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You boys better get along.”

Round up wasn’t a one-day job, and after missing half a week because Joe’d lost his father’s trust and was banished to the yard and barn to do menial tasks, it was time he showed the family that he was a worthwhile member of the Cartwright clan.

He doubted that Belinda was still speaking to him.  It had been over two weeks since he’d called on her.  He’d missed the night at the opera house and hadn’t been by her place to explain his actions.  She’d probably moved on, and he couldn’t blame her.  He wasn’t her kind of fella anyway.  He knew that from the start, but when she gave him a chance, he took it.  Considering his current state of mind, he couldn’t court a girl like her.  His place was with women like Sissy.

“You want to chase or brand, Joe.”

“I’ll chase.”

“Okay.  Get to it.”

Adam had a way of getting under Joe’s skin, but he wasn’t going to let it get to him so early in the morning.  The day was just beginning, and it would be long and demanding.  There was nothing worse than carrying a grudge when the work came first, but by lunchtime, Joe was ready to get down off his mount and stretch his legs.

“Leftover fried chicken,” Hoss announced.”

“Good.  I’m half starved.”

“You look half-starved, Little Brother.  Too bad you ain’t got an appetite like mine.”

“Yeah.  Good thing or Pa would go broke trying to feed the two of us.”

“Ha ha.  Real funny.”

If only Adam could be more like Hoss.  Easy going.  Easy to get along with.  After eating two legs and a thigh, Joe lay back against a tree and covered his face with his hat.  A couple of minutes of shut-eye would do him a world of good.  But it never failed.  Dreams ruined everything.

“I can’t do this anymore, Joe.”

The cots were lined up like beds inside a bunkhouse.  One, two, three, four, and it made him wonder if he and the other three were Zeke’s first, or had there been other victims of the madman’s vicious acts.  Sissy was exhausted.  Zeke had used her off and on all day, and when he didn’t have his pants down, he forced her to use her womanly gifts on Billy or Joe.  The man behaved like an animal that never tired.

Jenny wasn’t made of sturdy stuff.  She was frail, blonde, and willowier than most young ladies her age.  As a young girl, Joe had sat behind her in the classroom and pulled her pigtails.  He realized what a creep he’d been.  He’d taunted her for no reason, and though he’d never made her cry, he never should’ve been such a bother.

As they were all made to watch everything that went on in the camp, it was obvious that Zeke preferred Jenny over Sissy.  Not only did he use her during the day, but he also took her to his bed at night.  Some nights, there were muted cries, and the other three could feel her pain, but there was nothing they could do.  Their hands were tied. But after Jenny died, Zeke was on top of Sissy day and night. Day after day, she had to put up with his obnoxious grunts and groans.

The worst part, though, was when food was scarce.  Days went by, and no one would be fed, and Billy’s cries never seemed to end.  Joe’s belly felt as though it pressed against his backbone, but he didn’t say a word to the others.  They must have felt the same, so why bring up the obvious?  If starving them was the new plan, Zeke did a damn good job.

Billy contracted a fever, and Zeke handed him a full bottle of whiskey.  The kid had been trying to throw up all day, but every time he got down on all fours, he only convulsed.  And though Sissy wanted to comfort him, the poor kid was so sick that Joe didn’t know how much longer he could last.

The boy’s eyes had glazed over, and when Zeke held Billy’s chin and squeezed so tight that the kid cried out, Joe tried to intervene, but the cat-o’-nine tails found its mark, and Joe fell to his hands and knees.  After Joe took the lashing, he’d be no good for the rest of the night.  Billy Ambrose was on his own.  The next morning, Sissy checked her brother.  He died sometime in the night.  She never shed a tear.

“Joe?  Little Joe?”

From rigid to fighting mode, Joe wasn’t going to be manhandled.  “Get away from me!”

“Joseph.  It’s me, Hoss.”

His body went limp at the sound of his brother’s voice.  “I thought you were ….”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.  Think you can get back to work?”

“Yeah.  Just give me a minute.”

He was so tired of the dreams.  They were coming regular now.  Every time he closed his eyes, the nightmares hounded him as if Zeke was alive and well and causing the same chaos he’d caused over four years ago.  Nothing had changed.  He’d tried to tell his father, but no one understood that the pain and the memories would be with him forever.

As he shook off the feeling of dread, he settled his hat on his head and mounted Cooch for an afternoon of fun and games.  His brothers would be waiting.  Hoss, his steadfast patience, and Adam, restraining rather than complaining about his young brother’s inability to hold his own on the ranch, were ready to finish off the day.

Chapter 10

“Let’s go, Joe!”

Though he gave up primping ages ago, he wouldn’t leave the house without running a brush through his hair and donning a clean, white shirt.  There were certain rules a man had to live by, and Joe wasn’t going to town looking like a ragged old saddle tramp.

His father had said, “Okay.  You may go to the dance.”

He’d behaved badly since the day he’d brought Sissy back to Virginia City to begin anew, but that was behind him now.  She had her own life to live, and he had his.  No one, not even Joe Cartwright, could tell the girl what to do.  Her decision was made, and he fought to live with the outcome.

As he bounded down the stairs as only a young man could, three sets of eyes stared in his direction.  Ben stood from his chair and met his son by the front door, and after Joe fastened his gun belt and grabbed his jacket and hat, Ben slipped his hand across the boy’s shoulder.

“Have a good time, Son.”

“Don’t worry, Pa.  I plan to show all those Virginia City gals that Joe Cartwright is ready for a night on the town.”

“Yes, well, let’s not have any roughhousing or—”

“Don’t worry, Pa.  I’ll be as good as gold.”

*~*~*

Music filled the night air.  The dance was in full swing when Joe and his two older brothers rode up and hitched their mounts alongside Jeb Kreager’s barn.  Living just outside of town, the old man had offered up the large structure over the last couple of years for the annual Spring dance. 

Though his father had been hesitant at first, Joe convinced him that nothing could go wrong.  “Besides, Pa, how much trouble can I get into with my two old-maid aunts watching every move I make?”

His father hid a smile and gave in to his son’s wishes.  “Go.  Have fun.”

His brothers had said numerous times that Joe had his father twisted around his little finger, and, to this day, nothing had changed.  Even after Joe’s worst days or his worst behavior, their father relented every time Joe exuded a bit of that Cartwright charm.

Lanterns hung inside and out.  The barn’s double doors stood open, and singles and couples alike were invited to enjoy the festivities, listen to Jack and his Fiddler’s Three, and dance the night away.  A tip jar sat next to the door, and those who felt generous dropped a few coins in the large glass container.  Even though the Ladies League made sure there were large bowls of punch and several platters of sandwiches, tips helped pay for the entertainment and decorations that filled the generous space.

Men outnumbered women twenty to one, but the Cartwright boys never had trouble finding someone to partner up with.  Though Hoss often milled around the punch bowl and discussed this and that with the old timers, Joe and Adam were eager to find a pretty gal to escort out onto the barn floor.

This time, Adam was first to make his move.  Jayne Allison, a petite, dark-haired beauty who wore a light green dress, caught his eye, and after setting his cup on a nearby table, he crossed the room and asked the young lady for a dance.  She smiled and took hold of his hand.

Joe scanned the room for just the right gal.  There were a few to choose from, but something kept him from making his move.  Lucy Miller had caught his eye earlier, and Joyce McKensie blushed when he looked her way.  Either would be a good catch, but rather than asking one of the young ladies to dance, he refilled his cup with punch.

“Why ain’t you out there dancing, Little Joe?  There’s plenty of purty gals that keep looking your way.”

Joe scuffed the toe of his boot across some loose straw.  “I don’t know.”

“What’s that mean?  Don’t you wanna dance?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s the matter with you?  It ain’t like you to—”

“You think you know everything about me?  You think you know whether I want to dance or not?  Let me tell you something, Big Brother.  You don’t know a damn thing.”  And with that, Joe threw his cup on the table and stomped out of the barn.  “I need some air.”

Within minutes, he walked through the batwings at the Sazerac—one of his eldest brother’s favorite haunts—and ordered a bottle of whiskey.  Though the saloon catered to patrons who suited Adam’s unique personality more than Joe’s, his brothers would never think to look for him in such a highfalutin saloon.  He’d be safe for the rest of the night.

One drink led to another, and it wasn’t long before a young lady stood behind him with her hands on his shoulders.  As she began to massage the taut muscles, Joe closed his eyes and enjoyed the pleasure that only a woman’s touch could provide.

“If you stop, I might have to shoot you.”

“Is that a promise?”

Joe’s brow furrowed at the woman’s comment.  It was an odd thing to say, but he let it go.  He was away from that awful dance and everyone staring at him.  How many knew about his past?  How many wondered what kind of man he really was? It frightened him to even go there.   He’d been fifteen years old, and it wasn’t his idea to go off to the woods with Ezekiel Solomon.  Is that what everyone thought?  That he enjoyed his time away from the ranch?  How would he ever know?  How could he trust anyone outside his family?

When the girl’s hands began tracking down his shirtfront, he stopped her.  “Not tonight, Sweetheart.”

“Oh, but Joe.  Let Sissy show you a good time.”

He nearly jumped out of his seat.  “Sissy?”  He turned in his chair to find the painted-up whore standing behind him.  “You work here?”

“For two weeks now.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You do now.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

She took the empty chair on Joe’s left.  “If you don’t, I’ll get fired for not doing my job.”

Joe raised his hand and motioned to another whore for a second glass.  After pouring them both a shot, he began to relax.  There wasn’t much Sissy didn’t know about him.  With everyone else in Storey County, it was a guessing game, but not with Sissy.  She knew more than any woman should know about a man.

Forcing her to her knees in front of Joe, Zeke pushed her head forward until it touched the tip of his penis.  Nothing was sacred in the wilderness.  Nothing was left to chance.  “Take him, Sissy.  Take him, or Billy dies.” After removing the handcuffs from Sissy’s wrists, Zeke placed her hands against Joe’s hips.  “Did you hear me, Girl.  Do it now, or the boy dies!”

Sissy took him inside her mouth and did what was expected without thinking twice, but it wasn’t her choice.  It was never her choice, and when tears ran down her cheeks, Joe’s eyes shot to the heavens.  There was no holding back, but he couldn’t comfort her.  He couldn’t hold her in his arms or sympathize with her fate.  There was no stopping the inevitable.  With his hands chained behind a young pine whose sharp needles protruded into the flesh on his back, he had nowhere to go, nowhere to run, and within seconds, he exploded inside her mouth. 

“Just like a pro, right, Joe?  Just like a pro.”

That was day one.  Day two was no different, and by day three, there wasn’t any mention of anyone dying.  Sissy knew her fate, and she would take Joe, or Zeke, or young Billy into her mouth, anything to keep her young brother alive.

“Got put you on this earth for one purpose only, Sweet Girl.  This was the Lord’s plan even before your mama pushed you out into the world.”

Joe and Sissy couldn’t help but listen to Zeke’s daily sermons.  God this and God that.  It became unbearable at times, but it was not for any of them to disagree with such a disgusting human being. 

At times, he ranted, and other times, he spoke of God’s will, but Joe had learned to ignore the man’s insane thoughts on the subject.  Ben Cartwright was a God-fearing man, and maybe he’d have the guts to set Zeke straight, but Joe knew to keep his thoughts to himself.  It didn’t take long to learn the consequences of the man’s wrath.

“Joe?  Little Joe?”

“What?”

“You were a thousand miles away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.  It happens to me, too, sometimes.”

“It was nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Joe Cartwright.  I was there too, you know.”  How could she know what he was thinking?  He didn’t speak out loud or squirm in his chair or cry out.  How did she know?  “Your eyes glazed over.”

“Oh, really?  You think you’re so smart.”

“You think I’m nothing but a whore.”

“No, but that’s what you keep telling yourself.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No.  You’re right, and I’m wrong.  Is that what you want me to say?”

Joe grabbed both arms and pulled her toward him.  “No.  It’s you who was right, and I was wrong.  You’re nothing but a damn whore.  Zeke was right.  You’re only good for one thing.”  He placed her hand between his legs.  “Yeah.  You know the routine, don’t you, Sissy?  You want to do me here in the bar, or do you want to go upstairs?  It’s your choice.”  When she tried to pull her hand away, he pressed her palm harder against his swollen cock.  “Why don’t you take me here, Sissy.  Show everyone how it’s done.”

“What’s wrong with you?  Why are you doing this?”

“Why not?  It was your choice to live this kind of life, so take me here and now.  I see Judge Monroe sitting over there with Alec Parsons.  Show them how it’s done.  Maybe they’ll be next in line to enjoy what you have to offer.  Should I stand or would you rather I stay seated?”

“I hate you, Joe.”

Joe laid a five-dollar gold piece on the table.  “What will this get me, Sissy?  Should I lower my trousers, or would you rather do that yourself?  How do things work at the Sazerac?  Will the owner mind if you do me right here in the chair?”

“You’re drunk.”

“What if I bend you over the table and take you from behind?  I think the judge would be impressed.  What do you think?  Maybe he’d offer up a ten spot to be next in line.”  Joe stood from his chair and held Sissy by the waist.  “Over the table?”

From her silken bodice, Sissy pulled a small stiletto and held it at Joe’s waist.  “Move back or I’ll use this.”

Joe chuckled at the thought.  “Didn’t know you had it in you, Sissy.  Would you really run me through?”

“If I had to.”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Yeah.  Live and learn.”

Joe fell into his chair and leaned forward.  His hands dangled between his legs.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know what got into me.”

Sissy returned the blade to her bodice and sat down across from Joe.  “We all have our moments.”

“Yeah.”

“We always will.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you ride in with your brothers?”

“Yeah.”

“You’d better go find them before they find you.”

Joe looked up.  “You’re a smart girl, Sissy.”

“I’m alive.”

“We’re both alive, aren’t we?”

Sad smiles passed between the survivors of the wilderness.  Billy died, and Jenny died, but Joe and Sissy did what they had to do to survive.  Their lives would never be easy, but maybe life would become more bearable over time.

In the days and weeks that followed, Joe would learn to let Sissy live the life she chose.  He had no right to tell her different or judge her in any way.  He’d chosen the Ponderosa, and he would fight through the bad times and make his family proud of the man he would become.

Too many times, he’d fought with his brothers or his father for no other reason than he’d drifted off into that world where nothing made sense.  Where children were made to have relations with other children, even their own siblings, if that’s what Zeke demanded.

The vile man would spend the rest of his days in prison.  Not only had he killed Jenny and Billy, but there had been others.  Things tend to come to light during a trial.  Two youngsters in Placerville and three in Carson City.  No one knew how many more had fallen victim to a deviant named Ezekiel Solomon.  He was twenty-eight years old when he took Joe and the others, but no one knew when his reign of terror had begun.

After kissing Sissy on the cheek and placing the five-dollar coin in her hand, Joe donned his hat and left the Sazerac in search of his brothers.  Music still played inside Jeb Kreager’s barn, but that didn’t mean his brothers were still there.  He’d been gone quite a while, and he guessed that Hoss and Adam were searching every saloon on C Street looking for their wayward little brother, but it didn’t take long.  Joe spotted Hoss and waved his hat over his head. 

“Hoss!  Hey, Hoss!”

“Where you been, Little Joe?”

“Just around.  I’m bushed.  You ready to ride home?”

“Guess we need to find big brother first.”

“Yeah.  Guess we do.”

“Maybe the Sazerac.”

“No.  He’s not there.”

“You know this for a fact?”

“I know lots of things, Big Brother.”

“Ain’t you the smart one.”

“No, that’s your other brother, and there he is now.  Let’s go home.”

The End

12 – 2025