Even More Trouble

by Joefan1

Battered and bruised, Hoss and Joe Cartwright hobbled into Sheriff Coffee’s office. 

“About time,” Roy growled, and looked up from his paperwork. “What in tarnation?!” He shoved back his chair and hurried around his desk to get a closer look at their faces. “Who did this?”

Joe glanced sideways at Hoss and back at Roy. “We got into a little scuffle,” he improvised.

“A little scuffle?” Roy asked, escorting them back to the cells.

“Yeah, a little scuffle,” Joe repeated and eased himself onto one of the bunks.

“You wanna see Doc Martin?”

Joe shook his head.

“Hoss?”

“Yes, Roy, thanks.”

Rolling his eyes, Joe stretched out on the cot. “He’s just gonna poke and prod you, make you feel worse,” he warned and pulled his hat down over his face. He closed his eyes, and his long lashes rested on his cheekbones. Soon his breathing became soft and rhythmic. 

“Owl!” Joe’s eyes flew open. He glanced around the cell and spotted Doc Martin. ‘Yep, poking and prodding,’ he mused and pulled his hat back over his face. 

He lay still and quiet, eyes closed, but ears open, and listened for the inevitable footsteps. They came, sooner than expected, and stopped beside his bed. A hand came out and removed his hat.

“Go away! I’m fine,” he growled.

“What did you say?” a deep voice bellowed.

Joe shot up and looked into his father’s face. 

“A long day; it’s been a long day.” 

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “A long—“

“Excuse me.” Doc Martin interrupted, stepping between the grey-haired man and his youngest son. “Well, Joseph, tell me where it doesn’t hurt.”

Ben frowned at his son and stepped aside. “If you need me, I’ll be in Roy’s office,” he told Paul and exited the cell. 

Numerous pokes and prods later, Doc Martin closed his bag and strode into Roy’s office. “A few cuts and a lot of contusions—nothing serious,” he assured Ben. “Although,” he added, eyes twinkling. “Joe seems to have had a long day.”

“So I’ve been told,” Ben quipped.

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That he was in jail was Joe’s first thought on waking the following morning. That Hoss was standing by the cell door, eavesdropping, was his second thought.

“What are—”

Hoss put his finger to his lips. “Harrison is in the office,” he whispered.

“You sure it’s Harrison?”

Hoss nodded. 

“What’s he doing here?”

“Laying charges.”

“Charges.” Joe sprang off the cot. “I can’t hear anyone,” he grumbled, his ears straining against the bars. “Can you?”

“No.”

A quizzical expression crossed Joe’s face, and he glanced up at his brother. “That sound like a door closing?” he asked. 

Hoss nodded. “Harris must have left.”

Joe lay on the cot, hands behind his head, watching Hoss lose another game of checkers. 

“Roy.”

Hoss turned and grinned at his brother. 

“Back here, Ben,” Roy called out.

“Oh, good morning, Andrew,” Roy said, noticing the attorney standing alongside Ben. “I take it you’re here to see Joe and Hoss.”

Andrew Johnston nodded and strode through the open door. “So if you’ll excuse us, gentlemen,” he said, looking from Roy to Ben. 

Sitting down on the chair Sheriff Coffee had vacated, the attorney looked from Hoss to Joe. “Who wants to begin?”

Hoss looked at his younger brother. “You tell him. It was your idea,” he insisted.

“Well,” Joe began, “there was this prize bull for sale in Placerville…and then we turned ourselves in.”

“Do you have the telegram?”

“No, is it important?”

“It would corroborate the allegation that Harrison intended to declare his bank insolvent,” the attorney acknowledged, shutting his briefcase. “But,” he added, smiling reassuringly, “we’ll be fine without it.”

“First, I’ll go see about getting Joe and Hoss released into your custody,” Andrew Johnston told Ben on emerging from the cell, “and then I want to have a talk with William Raleigh.”

“Bill Raleigh, editor of the Enterprise?”

“Yes, it can only help our case if the good citizens of Virginia City know that it was Hoss and Joe who got their money back.”

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Sunshine streamed through the door, warming the backs of the two men cleaning the stalls.

“Hoss,” Joe said, straightening up. “I’ve been thinking.”

Hoss’ eyes doubled in size. “About what?”

“The telegram, it probably fell out of my pocket in Placerville when I was at the bank cashing out the bonds.” Eyes sparkling, he moved closer to Hoss. “We could ride there and be back by tonight,” he whispered.

Hoss’ head moved slowly from side to side. “We’re in enough trouble already. You just never mind about that telegram and finish cleaning out Buck’s stall.” He waited until Joe picked up the pitchfork and then went back to cleaning out Chubb’s stall. He had just about finished when he heard the clopping of horse hooves leaving the barn. He leaned the pitchfork against the wall and rushed after his little brother. 

“Joseph,” he warned. “Pa’ll be fit to be tied if you go off to Placerville. 

“Not if I find that telegraph.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Pa’ll be fit to be tied,” he said, a cocky smile on his face. “You sure you don’t wanna come?”

Hoss frowned and shook his head. “No, you’re on your own, Little Brother,” he said and headed back to the barn, determined not to be drawn into another of Little Joe’s schemes. 

His resolve lasted through the cleaning of two more stalls.

“Hi, Brother. What brings you this way?” Joe asked, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“Someone has to keep you out of trouble,” Hoss quipped, pulling up alongside him.

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“Hi, Little Joe.” A coquettish smile lit up the bank teller’s face.

“Hi, Patti Lou,” Joe said, and bending close to her ear, he whispered something only she could hear.

“Joseph Cartwright,” she scolded, her face stern but her eyes twinkling. 

Joe leaned even closer and whispered a second time. 

“Mr. Cartwright, is there something I can do for you?” she asked, feigning disapproval. 

He looked seriously at the pretty blonde. “I’m in a bit of trouble, Patti Lou. I lost a telegram, and Pa’s not happy with me. I was hoping it might have fallen out of my pocket here. You didn’t find it, did you?”  

Patti Lou looked furtively around the bank and lowered her voice. “I found a telegram on the floor right after you left last week. When I showed it to Mr. Campbell, he grabbed it out of my hand and ordered me to forget I saw it.” She took another quick glance around the bank. “I think it’s still in his office.”

“Thank you,” he mouthed, and blowing her a two-handed kiss, he backed up and made his way to the door. 

“Did you get it?” Hoss asked.

“No, it’s somewhere in Campbell’s office. I’ll look for it tonight after the bank closes.” 

“Now, just wait one dad-burn moment,” he growled. “You can’t just walk into a bank after it’s closed.” 

“Shh, not so loud,” Joe said, taking Hoss by the arm. “Let’s talk about it over a steak at Angela’s.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Two steaks and three slices of pie later, Hoss was still arguing with Joe. “You can’t break into a bank,” he insisted.

Joe delivered a theatrical sigh and cast his eyes down. “You’re right, Hoss,” he conceded. “I’ve already got you into too much trouble.”

Hoss’ face relaxed into a smile.

“You go on home. I’ll do it by myself.”

“Remember,” Joe said, standing a few feet from the back door of the bank. “If you hear someone coming—”

“I knock on the door three times and hide. When it’s clear, I knock once, count to ten, and knock again.” Hoss finished for him. 

Joe gave his brother a half smile and crept up to the bank. He jimmied the door open and slipped inside. Cautiously, he felt his way through the darkness to the manager’s office. He tried the door—it opened. Grinning, he stepped into the small room and began his search. He found the wire in the top drawer of Campbell’s desk. Smiling, he tucked it into his pocket. 

Knock-knock-knock. Joe froze. Three knocks—someone was coming. He closed the office door and crawled under the desk. The outer door opened. Footsteps clomped across the bank, and the office door opened. Joe’s heart pounded. Seconds dragged by. He waited, not daring to breathe. Thud. The office door closed, and footsteps retreated across the bank. Joe’s body sagged, and he started to breathe again. 

Knock. Joe counted: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Knock. Relief surged through him. He crawled out from under the desk, crept across the room, and slipped through the outside door. A large hand came out of nowhere, grabbed his arm, and pulled him out of the alley. 

“Did you get it?” Hoss asked. 

Joe patted his pocket and swung into the saddle. 

“Joe,” Hoss asked as they rode out of Placerville, “how are you going to explain having found the telegram to Pa?”

“I’ve got that covered, but we have to make camp at the same spot we camped last time.”

“Where Huggins and Finch robbed us?”

“Yes.”

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Ben Cartwright, eyes riveted on his two sons, waited on the stoop at the front of the house. His face was thunderous.

Joe grinned at his father. “We found the telegram, Pa.” 

“The telegram Harrison sent?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s right, Pa,” Hoss agreed. “Show him, Joe.”

Joe handed the wire to his father. 

“Where did you find it?”

“You tell him, Little Brother. You found it.”

“Last night we camped at that clearing again,” he began.

“The one where Huggins and Finch stole the bank money?”

“Yes, well, while Hoss was setting up camp, I went to look for some firewood, and there it was.” Joe smiled broadly at his father. 

Ben folded the wire and placed it in his pocket. “I’ll take this into Andrew this afternoon, while you two finish those stalls you left half done,” he said and went back into the house. 

Joe glanced at his brother, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

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Joe strolled out of the courthouse, delighted with the way things turned out. Heck, half the citizens of Virginia City considered them heroes.

“All’s well that ends well,” he quoted, looking up at his big brother. 

“Joseph.”

“Yes, Sir,” Joe turned to face his father, a huge grin on his face.  

“What’s this I hear about you buying a bull?”

“Bull?” Joe’s face fell.

Hoss, smiling, kept walking.

The End

Author’s Notes:
Episode Referenced: Bank Run: Written by N.B. Stone Jr.