Injustice

August Round-Up Challenge

by smp4ever

When I was younger, Pa used to tell me I didn’t know when to come in out of the rain. I’d look at him quizzically and say, “I’m not wet!” 

Shaking his head, Pa would walk away mumbling, “Where’d I go wrong with this boy?”

You didn’t go wrong, Pa, not this time. You just raised me to have a strong sense of justice.

So here I am at seventeen years old, behind bars, for killing a white man, the son of a prominent businessman, as it turns out. 

The other morning, tired of being bossed around by my old-lady brothers, I lit out on Cochise. Where I was going, I had no idea–I just needed to go. Pa would be angry and tell me I was being irresponsible and immature, but sometimes a guy needs time to clear his head. I’d be back in a day–or two. 

Cochise and I were traveling along the Carson River when I heard a girl screaming and men laughing. As I drew closer, I could see a young Paiute, no more than fifteen years old, stripped bare and bleeding. It was obvious what the two animals had been doing to her.

I rushed over, gun drawn. One of the cowards took off in a flash. The other couldn’t–his pants were still around his ankles. I grabbed him and we got into a quick scuffle. The guy tripped, hitting his head on a rock. He lay motionless.

Leaving him where he fell, thinking he was just knocked out, I grabbed my bedroll and canteen to tend to the girl. I knelt beside her, covering her bruised, naked body. When I held the canteen to her lips, her eyes smiled at me. 

Seeing that her injuries were serious but not life-threatening, I went over to the man. I rolled him onto his back–his eyes stared at me without focus. There was no pulse. He was dead. 

I turned my head to check on the girl–she had disappeared. 

Returning my attention to the man, I decided to have the decency to pull up his pants. His horse was close by, so I coaxed the animal over and secured the man across the saddle. 

As I rode into the nearby town, eyes followed us everywhere. People stared, pointed, and I even heard some women gasping–apparently, recognizing the horse and the lifeless body slung over it. By the time the sheriff’s office came into view, a commotion was already brewing. 

I dismounted from Cochise and headed inside to tell the lawman what had happened. But before I could open my mouth, hands grabbed me, punched me almost senseless, then shoved me into a cell–slamming the door shut. I soon found out the body I had just hauled into town was the son of a prominent power player in the area. I was in trouble. At least the sheriff had the decency to telegraph my father–only after he found out my name was Cartwright. 

Seeing my pa and brothers was a sight for sore eyes–literally, well at least for the one  that wasn’t swollen shut.

“What’d they do to you, boy?” Hoss asked.

Pa shook his head. “Trouble has a way of finding you, son, doesn’t it?  Don’t worry, we’re here for you now.”

“Listen, kid, tell us everything that happened. You’re gonna be okay.”

I don’t know if Adam was trying to convince me or himself. 

The hearing was a joke. The townsfolk were in an ugly mood. Tension between the settlers and the Paiutes was growing. Hearing me say a young Indian girl had been attacked didn’t move a single heart.  Plus, the town seemed to be under the thumb of the dead guy’s father.

A man yelled out, “Maybe you did what you’re accusing Jack Cummins of doing. He tried to save the girl, and you killed him, Cartwright!”

“Yeah, that’s what happened–Jack tried to save the girl and you killed him,” the crowd started shouting.

With hostility mounting, I was rushed back to the jailhouse with Pa following close to me. It all happened so quickly, I didn’t see Adam and Hoss mount their horses and take off. 

I was locked back in my cell, but my father remained in the office waiting for the sheriff to re-enter. Then that booming Ben Cartwright voice I’ve heard so many times before began barking out demands–this time, not at me. 

Pa bellowed, “I’m holding you accountable for Joseph’s safety. Do I make myself clear?  My son is going to receive a fair trial in this corrupt town. His brother, Adam, is on his way to get the circuit judge. You’ll be the one behind bars if Joseph’s harmed in any way.”

I can only imagine the expression on the sheriff’s face as my father shouted out his orders. Pa was dead serious.

Hearing familiar footsteps, I looked up to see my father outside my cell looking at me with love in his eyes.

“Pa, I’m scared.”  

“Joseph, I’m not going to tell you to stop worrying. I won’t lie to you. This is serious. But please trust me and your brothers. Before you know it, you’ll be home.”

I knew my father couldn’t allow me, his seventeen-year-old, to fall apart. Reaching his hand through the bars, my father touched my cheek tenderly and said, “Son, I need you to stay strong. Can you do that?”

I nodded, fighting back tears.

Pa smiled and said, “Good boy.”  

Then he added, “Hoss is tracking the second man based on the description you gave and the direction you said he had taken off. I’m heading out to speak to Winnemucca. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Pa–thanks.” 

My father squeezed my hand, turned, and left.

Sleep was impossible with the angry mob chanting outside my cell. I prayed my family would find the truth–and find it fast.

As I lay on the hard cot, trying to stay positive, I couldn’t stop my heart from pounding. The sun was coming up, and time was running out. 

A loud banging on the door jolted me. I leaped to my feet as they broke down the final barrier between me and the crowd. As if caught in a nightmare, hands grabbed me, dragging me across the floor. I caught a fleeting glimpse of the unconscious sheriff lying there as I was hauled outside through the dirt. There was no one left to protect me. 

Angry men hoisted me onto a horse. One man dangled the coarse noose ready to slip the loop over my head–I was certain seventeen would be my final birthday.  

A shotgun blast ended my grim thoughts. I looked up and saw the sheriff, a bit unsteady on his feet, but pointing the barrel right at the mob. The loud noise stopped the lynching–well, at least for now. The lawman shouted, “Take Cartwright down or the next load goes into the crowd.”

Laughter rang out as the sheriff was shot instead.  

I shut my eyes tightly. Instead of the roar of the mob and the sting of the rope on my neck, a sudden, heavy silence fell over the town. 

I slowly opened my eyes to see my father, Chief Winnemucca, the young girl, and a long line of braves processing down the street. Hoss rode in with the man who had escaped, while Adam followed, escorting the circuit judge. A wide smile spread across my face as I locked eyes with my father. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

“That’s my family!” I whispered.

Pa ordered the men to take me down from the horse. Their hands moved quickly to lower me to the ground. 

Later that day, the circuit judge declared me, Joseph Cartwright, innocent after hearing testimony from the young Paiute girl who was the victim of the heinous crime. Jack Cummins’ friend cried like a baby when he was sentenced to federal prison not only for the rape, but also for almost causing an uprising between the Paiutes and the settlers. 

Cummins’ henchmen were rounded up and thrown into jail for my attempted lynching and for shooting the sheriff. The lawman was going to survive the gunshot wound, and more importantly, told my father he was grateful to him for restoring his pride as a law enforcer.

Chief Winnemucca thanked me for saving his granddaughter. The young girl smiled at me–not just with her eyes this time. 

Pa draped his arm around me. “Joseph,” he said, “you’ve made me a very proud father, maybe a little grayer father, but definitely proud.”

Tears stung my eyes as I looked at my family. “I don’t know how to thank you all for saving me.”

Hoss slapped me on my back. “Don’t worry, little brother, we have a few ideas.”

Adam piped in, “Yeah, kid, Hoss and I are taking a couple of days off. It’s so nice of you to volunteer to do our chores.”

I felt my eyebrows knit together in instant protest. “Hey, Pa, that’s not fair. Remember, I’m the one you’re so proud of. I should be getting time off.”

“Chores, Joseph. Your reward is extra chores. Perhaps, next time you won’t take off when you get annoyed with your brothers.”

“But Pa!”

The end