A Flock of Geese

by jfclover

It’s difficult to picture one without the other. They were more than just brothers; they were joined at the hip the day Joseph was born. As soon as Hoss peeked into that crib and said, “My Little Joe,” I understood what Marie already knew in her heart. A special bond between brothers was created when our new addition to the family was only minutes out of the womb.

Not only was Hoss Joe’s protector, he often became involved in Joseph’s outrageous schemes. Nothing immoral or destructive I’ll admit, but sometimes a bit farfetched for my taste. Though Hoss might have balked in the beginning, he was a ready participant and Joe coached his big brother through to the end.

Hoss is gone now, and we’re left with only memories of days gone by. I often find solace when I take time to sit back and remember little incidents like an elephant named Sheba joining us on the Ponderosa or Joseph forcing his oversized brother to diet on celery and carrots in order to win a contest. During each event, I was beside myself. The house was in an uproar for days, but when I look back on all the antics, I find myself smiling and wishing we could relive some of the craziness that brought my sons closer than any two brothers should be.

Not everyone deals with death the same way and with locked elbows; Joe pressed his hands to the hitch rail and stared at nothing. It was no surprise. I’d seen the stance often, and the faraway look as though he was searching for something that wasn’t there. To say we’d had a rough few weeks was an understatement, but Joseph’s grief had taken him far, far away and I had no idea how to bring him back.

Not to say I hadn’t tried. I’d offered trips to San Francisco, Boston, and New Orleans, but I was turned down every time. They were foolish gestures but still, I tried to come up with a plan. I tried everything to bring my son back to me and to a living future where the past brought memories and a smile to his face. Memories that wouldn’t break his heart.

The loss has been far too great. I, too, fell into a dark depression but life goes on. There’s a ranch to run and there’s Jamie, who’s not yet grown into manhood and needs companionship and guidance from his older brother. Joseph has so many gifts to share and so many years ahead of him that I couldn’t sit back and watch his slow and all-consuming demise, and I vowed that by Christmas this year, I’d find a way to end his terminal grief.

What was Christmas without a tree? It was nothing and I sent Joe and Jamie and Candy on a trek up the mountain to find the perfect tree. Joe and his brothers had made the trip for years, and I thought that the camaraderie of friends and family might have some effect on his sullen mood. The holidays should be a joyous time, and I wanted Joseph to remember that joy and focus on the Christmas spirit rather than the cruelty of death. At least, that was my thinking.

While the boys were out, I went to the attic, dug out boxes of decorations, and carried them down. If the tree didn’t do the trick, maybe the colorful ornaments would give him a lift. I piled everything behind the stairs. The tree would need a day to relax and then I could hit the boys up with step two by making this the most beautiful tree we’d ever had on the Ponderosa.

I’d pulled Candy aside earlier in the week. If anyone could help, it was our foreman. He had a way with Joe. Often, it seemed as though he’d taken on some of Hoss’ traits when it came to handling the more tightly wound member of the family. Candy was a good man. He understood things others let pass. I trusted him as I would my own sons, and he assured me he’d do what he could.

When I heard the wagon pull into the yard, I grabbed my coat and headed out the front door. With a smile on my face, I hoped I’d see smiling faces in return. What I found, though, were four weary men—if I could call Jamie a man—who hadn’t returned on a high note.

“Hey, fellas,” I said as walked toward the wagon. “That’s a beauty.”

A nod from Jamie was all I received in return.

After Joe and Jamie unloaded the tree, Candy took the horses to the barn. My family members weren’t having anything to do with the Christmas spirit as they hauled the ten-foot tree into the house. I could only surmise, but it was apparent their outing hadn’t gone as well as expected. These weren’t the joyful faces I hoped to see upon their return.

“Everything go all right?”

“Fine,” Joe snapped.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Just forget it.”

Taking a step back, I let Joe and Jamie maneuver and anchor the tree in place. “Little to the left,” I said without thinking whether I was ruffling feathers or not. Jamie seemed to have gotten through that stage but Joseph—I never knew what to expect.

“Whose left?”

“Yours. Good. That’s good. Perfect.”

“Happy now?”

“As a matter of fact … ” At that point, Jamie slipped past Joe and headed straight upstairs. “Wash up for supper, son,” I called but quickly turned my attention back to Joe.

What had him in such a foul mood now? I was growing tired of the whole thing and was tempted to throw in my fatherly two cents, a grown man or not. Thankfully, Candy slipped through the front door and ended any discussion I had in mind.

“Supper ready,” Hop Sing called.

If it hadn’t been our hired hand, Hop Sing would have rivaled my discussion. This couldn’t go on much longer. Upsetting the whole household wouldn’t do, not during the holidays. It wasn’t fair to Jamie or me or even the hired hands.

Tomorrow. We would talk man to man, not father to son but on equal terms. I would pick my words wisely, and thoughtfully, so I didn’t embarrass or harass. For Jamie, Candy, Griff, and all the other hands on the ranch, a discussion had to take place. Although I don’t think Joe realized how cruel his comments could be, he’d taken his grief out on every one since his brother’s death, and it was high time he conducted himself properly.

Joseph usually turned in early. No playing checkers with Jamie or sipping a shot of brandy with his old man, but this night was different. Joe sat in Adam’s old chair, leaned his head back, and seemed more content than usual. After Jamie said goodnight, I started to speak although I hadn’t thought enough about what I wanted to say or how to approach the son I barely knew. And then he stood from his chair.

“Think I’ll get some air,” he said.

“Good idea. I’ll join you.”

We slipped on our winter coats. I’m sure he wondered why I was following him outside, but the time seemed right. We walked to the hitch rail and Joe took his familiar stance, one foot in front of the other. Elbows locked. We both stared into the darkness.

“Remember old man Milbank?”

His question caught me off-guard. “Jedediah?”

“You know how we all ended up in the mud? A flock of geese flew overhead and Hoss … ”

“Hoss what?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“But it does, son.” Joe’s glaring eyes meant the conversation was over, but I was far from finished. “It matters a great deal.”

“Adam and I blamed Hoss, but it was the flock of geese that caught his attention. He whirled around with a big old log in his hands and”—Joe chuckled softly—“knocked the two of us senseless.”

Joe hadn’t spoken his brother’s name once since his death. Maybe this was the breakthrough I hoped for. Maybe if I kept the spirit of Hoss alive just a bit longer …

“Remember all those years of spring fever?”

“How could I forget?”

I hoped for another smile. That wasn’t the case but I continued. “It was the year he took off and none of us could find him but remember what you said when we took the bucket of molasses up to his room?”

“What I said? That was a hundred years ago, Pa.”

“Hoss had fallen out of bed. He had that dazed look in his eyes and you called it that faraway look. Like he hears wild geese flying overhead.”

Joe glanced upward as though that same flock might make an appearance. “Those were good days, Pa.”

“Yes, they were. But as you said. That was a hundred years ago.”

“Well, maybe not a hundred.”

“No. Not a hundred.”

“What’s this all about?”

I dug my hands in my pockets and scraped my toe through the dirt. “Oh, I don’t know. Just remembering, I guess. Nothing wrong with remembering, is there?”

“I suppose not.”

“Good memories, son. Memories are what carry us through when we miss someone so desperately that our lives are nearly destroyed.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know, Joseph, and I can’t let you continue to drown yourself in sorrow.”

“You come out here to save me from myself?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to remember the good times? Is that it?”

“I think it’s a start. I think you were doing just that when you brought up Jedediah Milbank.”

“Have I been that bad?”

It was my turn to chuckle.

By Christmas Eve, the road to finding his way back was evident in more ways than I’d hoped for. A gentle smile and a lot of effort on his part made the holiday a joyful event for all. His eyes glowed with the gift of renewal. Perhaps the hellish times were behind him and he could rely on the treasured memories of his brother to see him through.

For the first time in years, I didn’t invite guests to our home. Loved ones only. Candy and Griff, as they’d become part of our family, and Joe and Jamie filled the seats at our table. A reconstructed family of five. In spite of the loss we endured or maybe because of our loss, we were able to find comfort in those who took Christmas dinner with us. We would look for those unique traits that made each of us individuals, but we would also remember the special traits of the man we called brother and son.

Epilogue:

Later that evening and before Joseph came up to bed, I slipped into Hoss’ room and removed the folded quilt from the foot of his bed and placed it on the foot of Joe’s. He wouldn’t understand and maybe he’d balk at the idea of removing a treasured item from his brother’s room, but I had my reasons and Hoss would gladly understand.

The pattern of little triangles on the lap quilt my lovely new bride had packed for the trail west and then wrapped around her baby son was called A Flock of Geese.

The End

2018

Mule’s Crossing #2

by jfclover

A story in three voices.

Joe

We arrived home from Pigeon’s Ranch on July 1, one year to the day after Hoss and I had boarded a stage for Arizona.  Pa and my brothers rode on to the house while I turned my mount in another direction.  I needed a few minutes alone.  I needed time to set things straight in my mind—whether returning home with Pa and my brothers had been the right decision or not.

I needed time to think without answering questions, time to think without being judged.  During the last few months, when I’d turned to play-acting when I tugged at Father’s heartstrings with the promise of being a dutiful, loving son, I thought I was doing the right thing.  Maybe my way of thinking had been wrong all along but in the end, the weeks of pouring my heart out to a madman had proved successful.  Hoss and I had escaped; we were free from a yearlong sentence away from family and away from everything we once knew.   

“Yes, Father, trust me, Father, you and me—father and son forever.”

No one will ever know what went on between the two of us inside Father’s parlor or how it made me feel, or how I cried for my own father when I voiced those words to a stranger.

As I knelt down on one knee next to my mama’s grave, a wave of questions poured through my mind, demanding answers.  Who was I more like? Which father did I resemble most?  Had I betrayed my own father?  I’d conned my way into Father’s good graces as I’d done so often with Pa.  How easily my pleading voice and a simple shower of tears came when needed. I’d had years of practice; even my eldest brother had accused me of working Pa’s sympathetic side without shame, and maybe I had, maybe Adam was right.  Suddenly, I felt dirty; I felt ashamed.  I felt unworthy of my own father’s love.

I’d already lost Hoss, my best friend, and would I lose my father too? Would Pa’s own instincts lead him to the truth? Was there room in his heart for a traitor?  Although that wasn’t how I saw it at the time, I wondered if I could ever talk about anything that went on inside Father’s house at Mule’s Crossing.   

Hoss had been unaware; he knew nothing of my plans, of the trickery I’d used to deceive Father to set us both free.  I never discussed my nights spent away from the cabin, not with Hoss, not with anyone.  And, as I look back, I’d been wrong not to confide in my brother but at the time, he didn’t want the truth; he saw everything in a different light.  He’d turned his back on me.  His head was all messed up, and in his eyes, I’d deserted him, I’d pulled rank only to further myself up the ladder of Father’s good graces.

~~~

A soft whinny welcomed me home as I stabled the sorrel next to the bay Pa had bought Hoss for our journey home.  I swallowed the lump in my throat, moved to the adjoining stall, and buried my face in Cochise’s silky, black mane.  If only I’d ridden him down to pick up the mares.  If only my father hadn’t insisted we take the stage.

Pa walked out of the house and met me halfway across the yard, and then wrapped his arm across my shoulders.  And just like Father had greeted me over the past few months, I felt a gentle squeeze.  My heart beat faster than it should have, and I hoped Pa wouldn’t notice the sudden discomfort I felt.

“Hoss is taking a bath,” he said.

I wanted to smile; I wanted everything to be as it should, but I pulled away.  “Think I’ll go … go to my room, Pa.”

“Hoss should be finished by now,” he said, not insisting I bathe next, but there was an edge to his voice.  I didn’t want to be told what to do or when to do it.  I was a free man, and I could bathe when I was ready; I didn’t have to be told.

“Joseph?”

“Not now, Pa.”

“Son?”

Pa didn’t understand; no one did.  I walked away from my father, entered the house alone, and went straight to my room.  I took the next bath, but I waited until Hoss had come upstairs and I heard his door close before I asked Hop Sing to heat more water.  Though he was glad to see me, he soon ranted and threatened bodily harm as he handed me the wooden bucket and pointed to the well.  “You get; I heat on stove.”

“All right, all right.  I’m going.”

“Why you wait till supper almost on table, Little Joe?”

After all this time—a year to be exact—our cook was scolding me.  “I’ll make it snappy,” I said though, if I’d had my way, I would have immersed myself in hot, soapy water for hours, but I wasn’t given that choice.

“You no make mess.  You hurry now.  Mr. Hoss plenty hungry for Hop Sing cooking.”

“Okay, I’m hurryin’, I’m hurryin’.”

I dressed for dinner in clothes that had been pressed, folded, and placed in drawers awaiting my return.  My room had been aired out, and clean sheets covered the bed. No more climbing to the top bunk, lying on a mattress filled with straw, and wrapping myself up in a threadbare blanket.  No more shivering all winter and sweating all summer.  I was home at last.

I took a deep breath and ventured down the stairs to eat with the family.  I was the last one to the table; Adam and Pa greeted me with smiles while Hoss opted to stare down at his empty plate.

“You look refreshed, son.”

“I feel better.  I’m hungry too.”

“Looks like Hop Sing made enough for an army,” Pa said, but first he bowed his head, clasped his hands, and with his wrists resting against the edge of the table he wanted to offer a prayer.  “I just have a few words to say on this auspicious occasion—“

I wanted to glance up at Hoss; I wanted to see his face, but I kept my head bowed and stared at my own china plate.  We had survived on jerky and hardtack for weeks.  We had made our way through canyons and deserts and iron boxes, never thinking this day would come.  But here we were, the four of us together again although everything felt wrong.  Nothing felt right at all.

“—for bringing my sons home and helping them through these difficult times,  Amen.”

Even though I’d let my mind wander, I’d heard Pa’s final words, “difficult times.” Our conflict affected the entire family and for that simple reason, I felt remorse along with guilt.  Hoss and I had brought our battle home—into this house, to Pa and Adam—and that wasn’t fair.  It was up to Hoss and me to find our way without saddling our misery on everyone else.

I piled my plate with food, more than I could begin to eat, but if questions were asked, I had an excuse not to answer.  I glanced across the table and saw the meager amount of food Hoss had set on his plate.  He still had difficulty eating solid food without losing all he’d taken in.

Pa reached out and patted my brother’s hand.  “Eat what you can, son.  I’ll have Paul come out tomorrow and check you boys out.  I want to make sure,” my father’s eyes began to tear, and his voice faltered.

“I’m not real hungry, Pa.”  I started to push away from the table, but my father surprised me when he stood too and fled the dining room before I could even get to my feet.  My brothers turned in their chairs, and we all watched Pa cross the room and haul himself up the stairs.

“Sit down, Joe,” Adam said forcefully.  He laid his fork down on his plate and ran his napkin over his mouth.  “Neither of you has a clue.”

“What?”  I said.  “What do you mean?”

“Granted, you both went through a terrible ordeal, I understand, even though I have no idea what transpired over the past year.  But I know what went on inside this house, and I won’t let either of you cause Pa another minute of worry or pain.  You have no idea how that man has suffered.  You don’t know how many letters and wires he sent off looking for the two of you.  You weren’t here to see him turn down a perfectly good meal or turn in early because he blamed himself for your disappearance.”

“Blamed himself?”

“Because he forced you two to take the stage.”

“But, Adam,” I said.  “None of this was Pa’s fault.”

“No?” he said, “Maybe not.”  Adam’s eyes bore even deeper into mine.  “But, he blames himself every minute of the day.”

I dared to glance at Hoss and then back at Adam.  “Maybe I should go talk to him.”

“Maybe.”

“What’s that mean?”  I wasn’t thrilled with Adam’s tone of voice.

“Maybe talking to Pa isn’t the real issue here.”

“I can’t solve the real issue, big brother.”

“Maybe you should try harder.”

“Maybe you should mind your own business.”  I glared at Adam.

“Fine.  I’ll do just that.”

Adam pushed back his chair and without another word, he walked out and slammed the front door.  Our food had grown cold, and no one had eaten a bite.  Hop Sing remained in the kitchen; there’d be no ranting this time, only silence remained now that Hoss and I were left alone.

“You blame me for everything,” I said.  “And you don’t know the half of it, do you?” Hoss shook his head and started to push up from his chair.  “Gonna run away?  Gonna give me the silent treatment?  Gonna pretend nothing’s wrong?”

A deep sigh came before my brother’s forced words.  “I just don’t care no more, Joseph.”

I stood up too and faced Hoss.  “Well, maybe I do.”

“That’s your choice.  I’ll be leavin’ soon as I get my strength back.  Ain’t no place for me here.”

“You’ve got all the answers, don’t you?”

“I got enough.”

“You don’t know nothin’.”

“Don’t push me, Joseph.”

“Wanna hit me?  Go ahead.  Hit me.”  I jutted out my chin, giving him every opportunity to knock me clear across the room.  “Give me the best you got.”  Hoss started around me, and I grabbed hold of his arm.  “Hit me, Hoss.  That’s what you want, isn’t it?  Hit me!”

Hoss grabbed me; his eyes flamed with anger.  I was amazed at his strength, as his fingers clamped tightly around both arms.  I stared up at my brother; tears filled his eyes, and he released his hold and turned toward the adjoining room; his anger abated for now.

“We need to settle this, Hoss.  Please don’t walk away.”

Hoss

I didn’t have the stomach to listen to any of Joe’s excuses.  I followed Adam out the front door before I got so angry I hurt the kid.  Yes, I wanted to hit him, but I ain’t never done that before, and I weren’t about to start now.

I know what Joe done behind my back, and I couldn’t forgive him for playing up to that man and calling him Father.  He didn’t care nothin’ about me; he only wanted to become headman.  I was through with him.  If in a year’s time, watching him climb his way to the top didn’t prove he’d become a traitor, not only to me but to this family, what else would?  He wanted all the privileges a man could earn in that godforsaken land, and he didn’t care who he had to push or shove to win his place in Father’s family.

I’ve stood by that kid since the day he was born, and he cares nothin’ about being brothers or carin’ for one another.  He’s spoiled and full of hisself.  I seen what he did to better hisself at Mule’s Crossing.  I’d smelled alcohol on his breath, and I knew about his late nights with Father.  Course, that weren’t all I heard.  I knew about his visits to the saloon and evenings spent with women while the rest of us worked ourselves to an early grave.  Maybe I’m wrong and maybe my thinking ain’t clear, but that ain’t my idea of brotherly love.

I’m a forgiving man.  I can find the good in people even when they done wrong, but brother against brother?  I did all I could to keep Joe alive on the trip through the desert and in the dank cellar where he nearly lost his mind.  I did all that, and how does he repay me?  He don’t.  He acts like he don’t even know me.

I seen him ride out of camp just a couple of days before the soldiers came.  Figured he was halfway home by the time all hell broke loose, and everyone scattered into the desert and mountains.  A chance at freedom, Joe and I should have shared, but it was too late.  He was already gone.

By then, I didn’t care much about nothing.  My little brother had turned against me, and I didn’t know why.  I walked away from Mule’s Crossing, and when my strength gave out I crawled, and when I couldn’t crawl no farther, I lay down to die.  At least I was a free man.  I didn’t know nothin’ more ‘til I heard Pa begging me to wake up.

Since I’d already told Pa and Joe I was leavin’, the only one left was Adam; I figured he should know my plans.  He was leaning his elbows on the corral’s top rail and digging the toe of his boot back and forth in loose dirt.  He didn’t bother to look up when I stood beside him, resting my elbows next to his.

“Howdy,” I said.  Adam continued scuffing his boot tip while I gazed straight ahead, pretending he weren’t there, just like he done with me.

“Ever wonder why we’re put on this earth, Hoss?”

“Huh?  No, guess not.”

“Ever wonder why three fairly intelligent men can’t get along with each other?”

“Don’t get me started, Adam.”

“Why?  Afraid?”

“Some, I guess.”

“Of what?”

“I dunno,” I said.  “Maybe my temper.”

My brother chuckled.  “Coming from you, I find that somewhat hard to believe.”

“You don’t know what it was like.  You pretend to know, but you don’t know nothin’.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Adam said.  “I don’t know nothin’.”

The two of us stood side-by-side, diggin’ our toes in the dirt only my hole was deeper’n Adam’s.  My frustration was deeper.  My anger was deeper, and I began kicking at the hole I’d made.  “He caged me like an animal, Adam.  He rode out and left me.  He don’t care nothin’ about bein’ brothers.”

“Seriously?”  Adam turned and crossed his arms over his chest.  “I don’t believe a word you just said.”

“Ask Joe.  Ask him why he deserved special favors.  Ask him why he put me in that iron cage. Ask why he rode out and left me behind.  Ask him, Adam.  Ask him why he done all those things to someone he calls brother.”

I pushed away from the rail and walked toward the house.  I’d said too much already, but Adam had got me riled.  I was acting more like Joe, letting older brother get under my skin like that.

I slammed my bedroom door and took a few deep breaths before I lowered myself onto the bed.  Every ounce of strength was gone, and it took a great deal of effort just to kick off my boots before I curled up and lay my head on the thick, feather pillow.  I was spent, body and mind.  I didn’t want to see no one else tonight.

Joe

Pa had a couple of our wranglers ride down and bring up the four cutting horses Hoss and I were to collect from Abe Chandler.  I’d given a year of my life for those mares, and I wanted to see if they were worth the price I’d—we’d—paid.

I woke up early, dressed, and headed out the front door, past the barn, and out to the paddock where the majority of our stock was able to feed and exercise on their own accord.  Although I’d never seen the mares, I thought I’d be able to pick them out. They weren’t the only cutting horses we kept on the ranch but as I leaned against the top rail, I realized they could be down in the wash or behind the tall pines, hiding in plain sight.

From my vantage point, I couldn’t tell one darn horse from another.  Of course, there were pullin’ horses, always heavier than the cutters but still, I would need Pa to point them out to me later in the day.  There’d been no description other than what Mr. Chandler had said in his letter—fine cutting horses.  That’s all I knew before we’d left the ranch, not much to go on except his word as a friend of Pas.

The sun was just making its way over the horizon, blinding me from distinguishing anything in the pasture so I started back toward the house.  When I opened the door, Adam stood in front of the credenza, strapping on his gun belt.  “Where you headed this early?”  I asked.

A slow smile crossed my brother’s face.  “Nowhere.”

“But?“

“Pa thought you’d … um—“

“Run off?”

“Yeah.”

“No.  I think you have the wrong brother.  I ain’t the one leaving.”

“Why don’t you and I take a ride?”  Adam grabbed his hat and handed me mine.

“Where to?”

“Just around.”

“All right.”

It wasn’t long before Adam and I was riding the shore of Tahoe where the beach widened to at least thirty or forty feet of sand.  I gazed out over the lake as the early morning sun sparkled like diamonds on the crystal-clear water.  It was a sight I’d longed to see; its beauty awed me after the severe nothingness of the desert.

“Why don’t we rest the horses, Joe?”

Adam lifted the flap of his saddlebag and offered me a piece of jerky.  “No thanks,” I said.  “I seem to have lost my taste.

“Oh?”

“Hoss and I lived off the stuff for a long time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.”

“It’s over now,” I said, taking in the tall pines, their slight movement, and their glorious smell.

“Is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Is it over now?”

The breeze coming across the lake was cool, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my neck as we led our mounts along the sandy shore.  “I was so hot for so long, I prayed for snow and cold but it never came.  Oh, maybe a dusting in the winter months, but nothing like here, nothing like the Ponderosa.”

“You’re home now and that’s all that matters, right?”

“Right.”  I forced an inner smile.  Adam was pushing for answers I still wasn’t ready to give.  “When do you think Hoss will leave?”

“He didn’t say.”  Adam kept moving forward.  He wasn’t looking at me or anything else.

“Soon, I guess.”

“Well, I suppose that’s for the best with the way things are.”  Adam’s voice was controlled and matter-of-fact.  “If he’s not happy here on the Ponderosa then …”

“It’ll kill Pa.”

“Things change, Joe.  Hoss has changed, and it’s his choice whether to stay or go.”

“But he’s leaving for all the wrong reasons,” I said, feeling a sturdy lump catch in my throat.

“Why do you say that?”

“I just know, okay?”

“I’ll talk to him,” Adam said.  “Maybe I can—“

I stopped and looked straight at my brother.  “What do you know about any of this?”

“More than you think.”

“Hoss talked to you?”

“Some.”

“And?”

“He’s hurtin’, Joe, and from what he said last night, he’s got good reason to leave.”

“Oh yeah?”  Now I was mad.  If Hoss was filling Adam’s head with a bunch of lies …  “Well, maybe I should set my overgrown brother straight on a few things.”

“It may be too late.  I think his mind’s made up.”

“No, it’s not,” I said, nearly shouting.  “He ain’t thinking straight.  His head’s all messed up inside.”

I waited for Adam to tell me different, but he chose to remain silent.  If Hoss were leaving on my account there’d never be peace in the family.  Hoss wouldn’t be happy anywhere else but here, and Pa would blame me for everything that went on this past year without having the facts, without knowing what it took to get us out of there.  “I gotta go.”  I mounted Cochise and rode off, leaving Adam standing alone by the lake.

Hoss

“Mornin’,” I said, seeing only Pa sittin’ at the breakfast table when I came through the kitchen after gatherin’ Hop Sing’s eggs and milkin’ Susie.

“Have you seen your brothers this morning?”

“Nope.”

“Hop Sing make Mr. Hoss nice breakfast.  Pancake with hot maple syrup.”

“Thanks, Hop Sing.  I’ll do my best.”

Sitting down to eat had become my least favorite part of the day.  Besides everyone watchin’ me, I couldn’t keep nothin’ down, and sometimes just the smell of food turned my stomach.  I hadn’t eaten meat for so long, it didn’t sit right no more. Mostly, we’d lived on bread and a meatless stew, at least most of us had.  Others were more privileged and ate chicken and steak and drank whiskey and wine.  My stomach began to seize up just thinking about them things what weren’t fair.

“Everything all right, son?”

Pa was worried, and it was my fault.  I remembered what Adam said the night before, and I redirected my uncalled-for attitude.  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said.  “Just tryin’ to work up an appetite.”

“It takes time, son.  You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

“You’re probably right,” I said, watching Pa drown his pancakes with hot syrup.

“I can’t imagine why your brothers took off so early this morning or where they would have gone.”

“I don’t know why you’re so all-fired worried,” I said, cutting through a pancake, but wishin’ the plate was already empty and I wasn’t bein’ watched all the time.  “They’ll take care of themselves just fine.”

“Oh, I’m sure they will.  I just—“

Pa and I looked up when the front door slammed into the credenza, and my little brother crossed the room in a fury.  “I wanna talk to you.”

“Not now, Joseph.”  No wonder I couldn’t eat with him bustin’ in and disruptin’ Pa’s and my peaceful existence.

“Now!”  Joe rounded the table and stood beside me.  “Will you excuse us, Pa.  You might not want to hear what I have to say.”

“What’s the meaning of this, Joseph?”  Pa said, standing up from his chair and meeting my brother head-on.

“This is between me and Hoss.  There are a few things we need to set straight.”

Pa glanced down at me, ‘cause I hadn’t moved a muscle before lookin’ back up at Joe. “All right.”  He threw his napkin on his plate, picked up his cup and saucer, and walked out the front door.

The last thing I wanted to do was sit here and talk to Joe.  Nothing he had to say would change a dad-blamed thing.  He could rattle on until doomsday, but my mind was made up.  I wasn’t living in this house with a brother I couldn’t trust.

With his fists pressed against his hips, Joe began pacing the room, back and forth until he finally stopped and pointed his finger right at my face.  “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

“I know enough.  Now, why don’t you be a good little boy and let me finish my breakfast.”  The kid was steaming mad.  I don’t know what he and Adam had been up to this early, but he sure was riled up over somethin’.

“You think it was all fun and games for me?  Is that what you think?  You have everything wrapped up in your mind in a neat little package.  Joe did this; Joe did that.  Joe did a lot of things, Hoss, but you’ve got the reasons all wrong.”

“Joseph, it’s over and done with.  Just leave it alone.”

“No, you’re gonna hear me out.  You’re not leaving this table until you have all the facts straight in your mind.”

The kid was pacing again.  It was almost comical to watch if’n he hadn’t been about ready to blow up inside.  He was ornery and sneaky; he might be able to con Pa with his little tricks, but I knew the real Little Joe, the conniving, underhanded brother who didn’t regard me as an equal.

“First off,” he said, “I didn’t do nothin’ you wouldn’t have done yourself to get us out of that place.”

“Right, Joe.  I enjoyed my time in the iron cage while you was sittin’ up on that hill havin’ steak and wine with that madman you called Father.”

“I had to do it, Hoss.  I had to put you in there.  Why don’t you get it?”

The kid was fuming, his face was red, and his eyes shot daggers into mine.  He leaned forward, placing one hand on the table and the other gripping the back of my chair.  I guess he thought he could cage me once again.

“I had to win him over, Hoss.  I had to use you to do it.”

“Well, little brother, you did a fine job of gettin’ what you wanted.”

Joe turned his back on me, but only for a moment before he was back in my face, shouting.  “How else was I going to free us, Hoss?  How else was I going to ride out and tell the soldiers what was going on in that hellhole?  I had to win Father’s trust. It was the only way.”

“You what?”

“You heard me.”

I let out a long breath and thought about what Joe had said.  Had he been the one who’d brought the troops or were these just more lies, more convenient tales to smooth things over now that we were home, and he wanted to look good in Pa’s eyes?

“Don’t you see, Hoss?  I had to work my way into Father’s good graces.  I had to make him trust me more than he trusted Montoya.  I had to become his right-hand man.  I had to put you in that box so he’d know I was faithful only to him and no one else.

“You lying to me, Joe?”

“God, Hoss.  What do I have to say to convince you?”

“I don’t know.  Right now, I ain’t too convinced about nothin’ you say.”

“I know you’re not, but it’s the truth, all of it, everything I’ve said is the God’s honest truth.  I had no other choice; I had to make Father believe I’d turned on you.  It was the only way I could prove he meant more to me than you.”

“You ain’t the one who spent three days in that box without food and barely any water,” I said, my voice becoming louder with each word I spoke.  “You ain’t the one who was treated like an animal.  No—Joe Cartwright rode on top of an animal and played God with other men’s lives.”

Joe backed off and wiped his hands down his face so only his eyes showed above his fingertips.  Maybe he was drumming up more lies because so far, I wasn’t believing nothin’ he had to say.

“I watched you ride out of camp,” I said, although quieter this time.  “Know what that did to me, knowing you was leaving me behind?”

Joe glanced at the front door, and I waited for him to bolt, to give up telling his lies and leave me be.

“I looked for you that morning,” he said turning back to face me.

“You didn’t look real hard cuz I saw you, and I weren’t more’n a few yards away.”

“You were?”

“I was.”

How was Joe gonna get out of this one?  I’d just picked up a canvas bag we’d all piled in an empty wagon the night before.  I watched him from behind as he looked up the mountain.  He never turned my way.  He never saw me staring right at him.

“Just let me say one more thing, Hoss.”

I wasn’t givin’ him the satisfaction of lookin’ up; I studied my cold pancakes.  I told him I didn’t care, what more did he want from me?  I was smarter now; I wasn’t as easy to fool.  I didn’t plan on livin’ the rest of my life pretending nothin’ had changed between us because everything had.  We may have been brothers once, maybe even best friends, but them days were in the past.

“I never lied to you before,” Joe said barely above a whisper, “and I’m not lyin’ now.”

I glanced up at his face.  He’d sounded sincere, even tears glistened in his eyes, but I knew better.  I’d seen him use them tricks before, and I wasn’t falling for the same devices he’d used on Pa since he was just a little kid.  I wasn’t a pushover no more.  I’d learned a few things over the past year, and gullible Hoss died the day his little brother turned his back and rode away from Mule’s Crossing.

Apparently, the conversation was over, and with his head hanging down and his shoulders slumped forward, Joe crossed the room and picked his hat up off the credenza where he’d thrown it down earlier.  He took a quick look over his shoulder, waiting for me to say something, but I had nothing to say.  He closed the front door behind him.

Pa and Adam strolled back into the house soon after Joe had left.  Hop Sing brought out fresh pancakes and platters of bacon and ham, and for the first time in a long time, I thought maybe I could eat.  I’d said my piece, and it felt good.  Let Joe rot in his own kinda hell.  It was exactly what he deserved.

~~~

An empty stall was the first thing I saw when I walked into the barn.  Joe had taken off to who knows where.  He was like that sometimes; I guess we all were.  Time alone gave a man time to think things out, and maybe he’s finally seeing my side of the story.  Maybe he finally realized what he’d done to me and why I wasn’t fallin’ for his tricks no more.

Pa always said keepin’ busy was good for a man’s soul.  I grabbed the rake and cleaned out Cochise’s stall first.  Later, I’d turn all the horses out into the paddock and finish mucking the rest of the barn.  I could rake and think at the same time; I didn’t have to run away to do my thinking.

Thoughts was pushing their way into my head like waves, lapping on the shoreline, one not finished before the next one came rushing in.  I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill.  I’d learned to hate, and I’d never hated no one my entire life but now, I hated my own brother.  I’d been lost for so long, lost and afraid, and I didn’t want no one else knowin’ how hardened my heart had become.

Ben

Joseph left the ranch nearly three weeks ago.  He’d left no note; he’d told no one of his plans to be away this long.  He simply saddled his horse and rode out.  Earlier that day, he had asked me to leave the room so he could discuss matters privately with his brother.  I’d honored his request; I’d even had a long talk with Hoss after the fact, but Joe’s disappearance was unexpected, and Hoss wouldn’t reveal any more than necessary when I asked what they’d talked about.  Adam and I were still in the dark as far as gaining insight into the past year’s events, and whenever I pressed Hoss for details, he begged me not to ask any more questions.

“Ain’t no more to be said on the subject, Pa.  One of us had to leave.  I’d planned to be the one, but it seems Joe took that away from me too.  I’m sorry it has to be this way; I’m sorry Joe left ‘cause I know you’ll miss him somethin’ fierce.”

“Hoss, I won’t miss Little Joe any more than I would have missed you had you been the one to run off.  I don’t know what’s gotten into either of you, and it seems as though I’ll never know the truth behind the dilemma we’re facing now.”

“This ain’t a dilemma, Pa.  It is what it is and ain’t nothin’ you or no one else can do to change things.”

“I don’t find your sentiment very brotherly, son.”

“Joe and me ain’t brothers no more.  We’re two grown men who’ve gone our separate ways.  It’s the way things gotta be, Pa.  I’m sorry you and Adam got stuck in the middle.  That weren’t fair and again, I’m sorry for that.”

“The middle of what?”  I was so mad at both of my sons, my heart was racing and my voice was rising.  “Neither of you will talk.  You’ve both moped around this house since we returned home, and I’ve had just about enough.”

“So have I, Pa.”

Hoss stood and crossed the room, strapped on his gun, and walked out the front door.  I was still overcome by his weight loss but over the past few weeks, his overall appearance had improved tenfold.  His face showed color, the gray shadows under his eyes had disappeared and his cheeks weren’t as sunken as when Adam and I had first seen him.  But, I’d never felt as lost as I did standing beside this grand fireplace, watching my second son walk out the door of this house.  The bonds that had held this family together for so many years were broken, and the desire to put things right was fading as days passed.

Over the years, I’d tried to instill honor and trust between my sons.  I’d told them more than once that, as a family, we could conquer the world together.  If we stood alongside one another, we were a formidable alliance against evildoers or obstacles that stood in our way.

One very selfish man had taken a year of my sons’ lives.  The time spent away had taken its toll and had stripped each young man of my teachings.  Hoss was lost and had let hatred enter his soul.  Joseph was lost and riddled with guilt.  Changes had occurred, and I was plagued day and night as to how to handle the situation.  My sons weren’t children any longer.  I couldn’t sit them down and tell them to behave or tan them both although the thought had crossed my mind.

I began walking away from the hearth, but my breathing suddenly faltered, and I steadied myself against my high-backed chair.  The sunlit room began to dim, and I staggered, placing a second hand alongside the first.  I gasped for air and felt a thickening inside my head and chest just before my legs became weak and unexpectedly, my knees buckled, and my feet went out from under me.

Adam

After a well-deserved night on the town, I returned home, and once I rolled up my gun belt and threw my hat on the credenza, I called out to Pa.  The lamp burned next to his chair, but he was nowhere in sight.  The fire wasn’t banked, leading me to believe he was somewhere about; I called out once again.

With still no answer, an eerie feeling crept through me like a winter chill against my bones.  I walked toward the hearth seeking warmth from the low-burning fire.  There, I saw my father.  He lay on his side, fully dressed, still breathing but unconscious.  “Pa—Pa!”  My strident voice was the only sound in the room and still, there was silence.

I stood alone, no brothers to share the burden.  I left my father alone and ran out the front door to the bunkhouse, forced to wake one of our ranch hands for the grueling night ride into town.  And when I returned, Hop Sing was just coming out of his room.  “It’s Pa,” I said hastily.

My father hadn’t moved, and only the crackling fire showed across his face, gray with death.  “I’ve sent for the doc,” I said.  “Help me get him upstairs.”

His arms and legs were limp and while I reached under his arms, Hop Sing lifted his booted feet, and we managed to get him up the stairs and stretched him out on his bed.  “That’s enough for now.  We’ll let Paul take it from here.”

Hop Sing may have heard me, but he insisted on pulling Pa’s boots off and removing his belt while I started a fire to warm the room.  And when I returned to my father’s bedside, Hop Sing had covered him with two heavy quilts from the foot of the bed.

It seemed like hours before the doctor arrived.  He asked Hop Sing and me to leave him alone while he examined Pa.  And when he was finished, he summoned the two of us, and we managed the dead weight of my father, removing his remaining clothes and making him as comfortable as possible in the bed.

“Where are your brothers?”  Paul asked as he rolled down his sleeves and fastened the cufflinks through his pressed white shirt.  “Adam?” he repeated when I didn’t answer right away.

I sighed heavily.  “I don’t know.”

Paul’s head popped up, a questioning look sprang from his narrowed eyes.  “Don’t know?”

Again, I released an exaggerated breath.  “You heard right, Doc.  I have no idea.”  An explanation was mandatory, and so I enlightened the doctor.  After we’d made ourselves comfortable at the dining room table, Hop Sing had set out coffee and a plate of sugar-coated donuts before he’d headed into the tiny room to sit with my father.  I spoke of the trouble regarding my two brothers and how the upset had affected Pa.

“You probably already know what I’m about to say, don’t you, Adam?”

“I have a fairly good idea.”

“I’ll talk to Harriet Guthrie in the morning and see if she’s available while you’re away.  I have no doubt she’ll help out.”

I leaned my elbows on the table and stared at Paul.  “I can’t leave my father like this.”

“Adam, if your brothers don’t return, I’m afraid Ben won’t have reason to either.”

God, I knew Doc was right, but I was torn between leaving my father alone and searching for both brothers when I didn’t have a clue where to begin.  But Paul wasn’t leaving this matter up for debate.  I nodded my head.  “You’re right.  I’ll leave as soon as Mrs. Guthrie arrives.”

~~~

I rode out late the following afternoon.  Paul had brought Harriet out to the house so he could explain my father’s condition and give her the needed instructions and medications. I could see the look in Hop Sing’s eyes as the good doctor explained in detail what needed to be done.  Our cook wasn’t happy.  He wanted to be the one in charge, not an outsider.

I didn’t have time to soothe his ruffled feathers completely although I did my best with the precious amount of time I had left before the sun set and another full day would be wasted.  “I’m sorry it has to be this way, Hop Sing, but I have no choice. This is what Paul wants for Pa and what he thinks is best.  Please bear with us for now.”

“I do as Mr. Adam want but Hop Sing do better job than cranky old lady.”

“Yes, I’m sure you could, but I don’t have time to argue.  Are the supplies ready?”

“All ready.  Three-day supply just like you ask.”

“Thank you, Hop Sing.”

“You bring brothers home second time.  Father not get well until brothers quit foolishness and understand importance of family.”

~~~

I rode non-stop through the evening hours, thinking back to what Hop Sing had said just before I’d left the house.  With few words, he’d summed up everything in a neat little package.  You’re right, Hop Sing.  You’re right about most things we tend to drag out and mull over for much too long.  Foolishness …

I wasn’t looking for tracks; Joe’s would be gone by now, and Hoss knew how to hide his if he didn’t want to be found.  So, with our line shacks spread nearly ten miles apart, I figured I’d try them first.  I’d been to Virginia City just the other day to pick up supplies though I didn’t see hide or hair of Joe, even when I’d checked the livery for his mount.  So, exploring Ponderosa land was the next best thing.

My back ached, my head throbbed, and I was tired of the drama my brothers had created. Riding any farther was out of the question, and I would have to give up tonight’s search and sleep in the next cabin I came to.  Tomorrow was another day although, with my father sick in bed, every minute became more crucial and like always, I was left holding the bag.

I eased my leg over Sport’s back and led him to the lean-to on the far side of the log cabin where … my brother’s horse stood bobbing his head and nickering at his stablemate.  Even if I had a mind to, I was too tired to laugh.  One down and one to go.  Maybe this wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d first thought.

After I loosened the cinch, I reached up for the blanket and saddle, but when I heard a gun cock behind me, I froze in place.  Turning my head slowly and looking over my shoulder, I stared at the tall, white hat and rounded blue eyes.  “Gonna shoot or put that thing away before someone gets hurt?”

“I thought you was a bandit or something.  Why you sneaking up on me like this?”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” I said roughly.  “I was hoping for a place to sleep.”

“Huh?”

“Help me with Sport.  We need to talk.”

~~~

Hoss was eager to ride back to the house, but I finally convinced him that tomorrow morning would be soon enough.  Pa wasn’t going anywhere, and between Mrs. Guthrie and Hop Sing, he was in capable hands.

“Only one of us can ride home tomorrow,” I said.

“One?”

“Yes, Hoss,” I said sarcastically.  “There’s still a missing brother.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Even with the weight loss, Hoss was still a big man, and the two wooden chairs in the line shack were small and delicate.  He adjusted himself in the seat, leaned forward, and dropped his elbows to his knees.  “Which one of us goes home?”

“I’ll let you decide.”

Hoss looked away before he stood and opened the cabin door.  He extended both arms, pressed either side of the wooden frame, and stared out into the darkness.  His body language said it all; it was a hard decision for him to make.  “You go on home, Adam.  I’ll find Joe.”

“You sure?”

His head bobbed up and down, but I couldn’t see his face.  I couldn’t see his eyes or hear his hidden thoughts.  “I’m sure,” he replied.

“Let’s get some sleep.  Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

Hoss had packed his meager belongings and had left the cabin before I woke the following morning.  I rode home to be with my father.

Hoss

If’n I had any sense, I would have asked Adam where he’d already looked for me and Little Joe.  I rode into Virginia City first and stopped in to see the sheriff.  Roy was very good at keeping an eye on things in his town.  If Joe was here or had been here recently, Roy Coffee would have been the first to know.

“Ain’t seen him since Ben and Adam found you boys.  I did see Adam the other day parked down by the feed and seed, but he seemed in an awful hurry.”

“Guess Little Joe ain’t been here,” I said.

“I barely recognized you, Hoss.  If it weren’t for that hat—“

“I know.  Hop Sing’s doin’ his best to fatten me up some.”  I didn’t need to hear nothin’ about my appearance, not even from Roy Coffee, and I let it pass as best I could.  “Say, Roy, if’n you see Little Joe, tell him it’s important he gets hisself home.”

“Any trouble?”

I knew Roy would find out so I told him what I knew.  “Pa’s sick in bed, and none of us is exactly sure where Joe is, but I ain’t got time to stand around talkin’ so if’n you see him—“

“I’ll send the boy home.  Don’t you worry none, Hoss.  If Little Joe’s in town, I’ll find him.”

I pulled Chubby’s reins from the rail and mounted.

“Tell your pa—“

“I will.  Thanks.”

I rode my horse slowly down C Street not knowing which way to turn.  I could ride down to Carson or Genoa, I could check more line shacks or I could stop in at the Silver Dollar, have a beer, and talk to Bruno.  That became my plan, not a good one, but I hadn’t had a beer in over a year’s time, and if Joe had been in town, this was the first place he’d come.  Pa was in safe hands with Adam so why couldn’t I spare five minutes just for ol’ Hoss.  I tied Chubby out front and headed inside the saloon.

“Hoss?  Hoss Cartwright, is that you?”

I smiled at Bruno and shook his hand.  “It’s me all right.”

“Hot damn.  Good to see you.  Bet you need a beer.”

“Sure do.”

“Here’s one on the house,” Bruno said, handing me the coldest beer he could muster.  “Hey?  Where’s Little Joe?”

“I’s hopin’ you could tell me.”

“No, ain’t seen him since you boys got back.  Is he missing again already?”

“Well, sort of.”

“Hey, Jimmy,” Bruno called to a young fella sippin’ beer at the end of the bar.  “You seen Little Joe Cartwright?”

“Nope.”

“I have,” came a voice from across the room.

I started toward a table with four men playing poker and drinking shots of whiskey. “You seen my little brother?”

“Sure did,” the man said without looking up from his cards.  “Over Carson way.”

“When?”  

“Just yesterday.”

“How do you know Little Joe?”

“Don’t really,” he said.  “Met him playing cards.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” I said and walked back to the bar.

“Hey, big man,” the fella called out.  I turned and looked over my shoulder.  “That brother of your’n.  He didn’t look so good.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I dunno,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.  “Means he didn’t look so good.”

The old Hoss might have picked the man up by his shirtfront and asked a few more questions, but the new Hoss didn’t have the energy or the time to waste.  “Thanks, Bruno.”  I set my glass on the bar and walked out the batwing doors.  I was off to Carson City.

Joe had been gone a few weeks now, and I wondered whether he’d holed up in Carson all that time.  He didn’t have no friends down there, at least none I knew of, so he’d have to be staying in some hotel, and I was surprised he had enough money with him to afford the luxury. ‘Course the fella said he met him playin’ poker, so maybe Joe had a decent winnin’ streak, providin’ him with needed funds.

Carson was a fast-growing town surrounded with nothin’ more’n sagebrush and greasewood, not a tree in sight.  The boardwalks creaked as my boot heels beat along the sun-weathered wood.  There were white-frame stores and new brick buildings going up, but for a square of land held out in the middle by a man named Curry, thinking if Nevada became a state, this would be a darn good place for the capital. Guess I didn’t care one way or the other.

I ran my finger down the registry of The Warm Springs Hotel, but there weren’t no Joe Cartwright registered.  I described Little Joe to the clerk behind the counter, and he shook his head but before I left, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.  “Any other place to say here in town?”

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat.  “There’s Mrs. Beaumont’s Boarding House although she usually takes in a higher caliber of … I mean she—“

“I understand.”  I hadn’t bathed or shaved in a couple of days, and I s’pose I looked like some rag-a-muffin to a man who sported a suit and tie.  “Anywhere else a fella with not much cash would hole up?”

“There’s the Noble House.  They take in transients and … men without—“

“I gotcha.  Where can I find this … Noble House?”

The clerk gave me directions; I thanked him and got out of his lobby as quick as I could. Next to the livery on the far side of town was a wooden sign with letters barely visible on the weathered plaque above the front door.  Noble House.  It was nothing more than a flat-roofed barn with two rows of beds, five to a side.  I didn’t see hide nor hair of Joe, in fact, the building appeared empty ‘except for a colored man sweepin’ trash up off the floor.

“Excuse me,” I said, and the man stopped to look up.  “Any other rooms here for sleepin’?”

“Yep,” he said and went back to pushing his broom.  I was about to ask my next question, but he volunteered a decent answer before I could open my mouth to speak.  “Two more rooms in back.  They got doors with locks and cost ya double.  Man still sleepin’ in one of ‘em but the other one’s free.”

“This man.  Is he a young man … wears a green jacket?”

“Why ya wanna know?”

“He’s my brother.”

The man looked unconvinced.  “Don’t look like brothers to me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s true enough, but we are.  His name’s Joe.”

“That’s the boy’s name all right.  Ain’t seen ‘im for a couple of days now.  Don’t reckon he’s alone neither.”

“Huh?”

“Lady friend,” he said kinda irritable like.  “He’s got a lady friend in there with him.  You deef?”

“Yeah … no, I heard ya.”

“Well?”

“Which room?”  

“One on your left.”

I gave the old man a dime for his trouble, stepped over his broom, and walked to the back of the larger room.  When I tapped on the door, no one answered.  Slowly, I turned the tarnished nob.  The door wasn’t locked, but the powerful stench nearly knocked me off my feet.  The smell of stale whiskey and unclean bodies poured from the tiny room.  A yellowed window shade was pulled to the sill, and a lamp burned low next to the bed.  I raised the wick although it might have been best had I left it alone. What I saw next was two naked bodies lying face down on a narrow cot-like bed with sheets rumpled and lying half on the floor.  I cleared my throat.

The woman lifted her head and stared, blinking repeatedly before wiping her hand across her eyes, smearing the black soot she used to decorate her lashes.  Realizing I was a stranger and I didn’t belong in the room, she quickly grabbed the fallen sheet to cover herself properly. “Who … who are you?”

“Time for you to leave, ma’am,” I said calmly.  “Time to gather up them clothes and get out.  I’ll step outside while you get dressed.”

When the woman rushed past me in her rumpled saloon clothes, callin’ my little brother a worthless piece of trash, I wondered what she considered herself.  “He promised me a twenty-dollar gold piece, and he ain’t got nothin’; not one thin dime.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, ma’am.”

“Sure ya are.  Everybody’s sorry.”

My brother was sprawled across the bed, taking up the empty space after the woman cleared out.  His knuckles was cut and bruised and on the part of his face that showed in the lamplight, his cheek hadn’t fared too well either.  His clothes had been flung on the floor; his empty wallet lay there too.  I raised the shade and lifted the window, letting in the afternoon sun and a breath of fresh air.  This was the last of the line; the last place a man could find a bed with a roof over his head. Only the iron cage at Mule’s Crossing was worse than this place.

This is where a man came to die.  When hope was lost, when he had nowhere else to turn; when he’d given up on life, on family, on everything that meant anything.  This was my little brother, who I’d watched over for the entire nineteen years of his life, ‘ceptin’ for one.  Through broken bones and heartaches, I’d cared for him without askin’ nothin’ in return.  I swallowed the lump in my throat before a subtle moan caught my attention and brought me back to the present.  

I flipped Joe over on his back.  He raised his arm to cover his eyes from the powerful ray of light landing straight on the bed from the open window.  His right hand searched for the sheet, but it was hanging too far off the bed out of reach.

“Get up,” I said, bumping my leg hard against the side of the narrow cot.  Joe tried to roll away from the sound and the disruption, but I grabbed his arm and held him flat on the bed.  “Get up, Joseph.”

“Hoss?”

“Get up.”

“Go away.”  He thought he could roll away, and I’d magically disappear.

“Get dressed.  It’s time to go.”

“You go,” he said, still trying to break the hold I had on his arm.

“I ain’t leavin’ here without ya, and I ain’t a patient man, so get your filthy carcass movin’ before I fling ya over my shoulder and drag ya out of this dump without no clothes at all.”

Joe finally rolled into a sitting position and, realizing he was buck-naked, he reached again for the sheet.  “Why are you here?  How did you find me?”

“It don’t matter.  Get dressed and let’s go.”

His eyes was half-closed and his hair sprung every which way before falling across his forehead in a tangled mess.  The smell of soured whiskey seeped from his pores and a polished sheen of sweat glistened across his face and neck.

In my way of thinking, Joe deserved everything he got, but as I gazed down at what was left of my youngest brother, I felt somethin’ I hadn’t felt for a long time.  Protective.  I was saddened by what I saw, what he’d let his life become.  Drinkin’ anything he could find and fightin’ anyone who got in his way.

We saw life differently, him and me.  While I longed for quiet solitude on the land I called home, Joe needed people surrounding him, even if they were barroom scum and over-the-hill women, he didn’t never want to be alone.

I picked his pants up off the floor and threw them across his lap.  “Come on.  Get dressed.”  I stood patiently and watched him do as I asked, pants, shirt, and boots.  His jacket and gun belt were draped over a wooden chair.  “Here,” I said.  “Finish up and let’s go.”

He never once asked why I was taking him outta that place.  He never said a word.  I held onto his arm and dragged him next door to the livery, but that’s when any movement stopped.  “I ain’t going nowhere with you,” he said.  He leaned his worn-out body against his horse and didn’t move.  I pushed him away, saddled both Chubby and Cochise and told him to mount up.  “Ain’t going.”

I’d manhandled the boy before, and I weren’t past doing it again.  He bucked and flopped like a fish outta water when I grabbed him up from behind.  His arms was flailing and he called me every name in the book as I hoisted him onto the saddle.

“You stay put or I’ll tie you belly down, you ornery little cuss.” I eased Cooch out of the narrow stall.  I kept hold of the reins, seein’ how Joe had enough to contend with just hangin’ on to the horn and centerin’ hisself in the saddle.  If this is what it took to get him home, I was the right man for the job.  I pulled out a few coins and handed them to the smithy, who was about ready to sell Joe’s horse since he hadn’t been paid.  We rode out together.

~~~

Although we weren’t far from home, I was in a hurry to see Pa.  I hadn’t told Joe why, and I’m not sure what kept me from blurting out the truth about Pa’s condition, but I’d kept it a secret.  He’d asked more than once after he’d sobered up and come to his senses, and even though Adam had explained in detail everything the doc had told him, I hadn’t let on to Joe.

I was to blame; Joe was too and in his fragile state, I wasn’t sure if he’d bolt or ride along peacefully so I didn’t take a chance by telling him.  He would know soon enough whether Pa was still alive or not.  A few more miles and we’d both have the answer to that question.

I was surprised he didn’t fight me on this after all the lies he’d tried to put past me only to ease his own conscience.  I’ve studied long and hard over what he said the last time we talked to each other, the morning before he rode out and decided not to come back.  It was just like Joe to sulk and make a mess of his life until someone dragged him back home and smothered him with attention, enough so he’d stay put.

Seeing how he was still in one piece was a miracle, knowing how he’d abused hisself over these last few weeks.  The truth will set you free, Joseph.  Of course, I said nothin’ like that, but it was hoverin’ in the back of my mind all the same.  If’n he’d just come clean, but that wasn’t Joe.  He was determined to keep telling his lies, to keep the past hidden from Pa and Adam.

When we crested the hill and looked down on the house and outbuildings, there was no movement; no ranch hands in the yard, only a gentle breeze pushing its way through the trees. There’d been no earthy smells in the desert, only dust and heat, and when I breathed in the heavenly scent of pine, its freshness, its glory, I wondered if’n I should tell Joe about Pa. But when I squinted my eyes and looked closer, I saw a visitor’s buggy parked outside the house.

Joe, who was fully conscious now, turned in his saddle and stared straight at me. “Why’d you bring me here?”

I hesitated before I spoke.  “Things have changed, Joseph.”

“Things?  What things?”

I saw a fresh look in his eyes, a hopeful look, but was I ready to make peace?  Was that what he thought this was all about?  Was I ready to forget the past so the family could survive?  I gazed at the tops of the trees—my home—Joe’s home—my father’s dream, which had become my dream too but no, I wasn’t ready.

“Let’s go.”

~~~

“You found him?”

“Sure did,” I said, shaking Adam’s hand.  “Found ‘im down Carson way.”  Not only had my brother come out of the front door as Joe and I rode up, Doc’s buggy was hitched to the rail. “How is he?”

“Holding his own,” Adam said.

Joe was a bit like dynamite.  Calm until somebody struck a match and the explosion took away half a mountain.  “Who’s holdin’ his own?” he asked.  “What’s going on, Adam?”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“Nope,” I said.  “Figured he’d find out soon enough.”

“What?  Is it Pa?”  Joe’s eyes grew round and his nostrils flared—the match was lit.  “Tell me, Adam.  Is it Pa?”

Adam glanced up at me and then his eyes met Joe’s.  “Maybe you should clean yourself up some before you—“

“It’s Pa, ain’t it?”

“Easy, Joe.”  Adam reached out to steady my little brother, but Joe turned on a dime, and his left fist bashed across my jaw.

“I hate you, Hoss.  I hate you.”

The explosion was quick and deliberate, but the mountain didn’t cave, only a meager rockslide leaving no permanent damage.  I rubbed the side of my face with my fingertips, wondering how many more times the dynamite would ignite before the day was out?

Adam

“I see nothing’s changed,” I said to Hoss as he rubbed the soreness from his jaw.

“Dang fool.  Know where I found him?”

“Do I really want to know?”

“I best settle the horses,” Hoss said, picking up Chub’s reins.  I untied Cochise from the rail, and we walked toward the barn together.  “Dang fool kid,” Hoss mumbled a second time.

Joe had rushed straight into the house, not even stopping to rinse off in the trough. He smelled like hell, but Hoss and I both knew what Pa meant to Joe.  Not that we cared any less about our father’s well-being, but there’d always been something rather unique between Pa and his youngest son.

I kept my thoughts to myself while I groomed my young brother’s horse, and Hoss fiddled mechanically with Chub.  It seemed like a lifetime since anything about our lives had been normal.  My brothers were home, but for how long?  It’s obvious they hadn’t made amends.

“I found him lyin’ naked in a room no bigger’n this stall, Adam.  He smelled of whiskey and sickness and … and some over-the-hill whore … woman had just cleaned him out and left him nothing but his clothes.  He could’ve been beaten to death or worse in a place like that, but he didn’t care.  He don’t care about nothin’.”

“Maybe we should wait and let Joe explain.”

I considered what Hoss had said and the tone he used to describe Joe’s unsafe surroundings. I heard fury, but I also heard sadness, and I knew Hoss still cared and not all was lost.  He may not say it outright but in his heart, he was grieving what had once been a true friendship between brothers.

“Guess the ride home was pretty miserable?”

Hoss turned and glared at me.

“I’m sorry.  Just asking.”

“How’s Pa really?”

“First things first, Hoss.”

“What’s that mean?”

I leaned over Cochise’s back, still holding the brush in my hand.  “Ever wonder why you found Joe in that condition?”

“Cause he’s a dang fool, that’s why.”

“Come on, Hoss.  You know better.”

“No, I don’t.  You’re so smart, why don’t you tell me?”

“I could use a drink,” I said, hoping the walk to the house would ease Hoss up a bit.

“No.  Say your piece now, Adam.  Tell me what’s eatin’ at that overworked brain of yours?”

“Okay,” I said, quickly trying to select the right words.  “So far, I’ve only heard your side of the story.  Joe hasn’t said a word; he may never open up and tell us what happened at Mule’s Crossing so why don’t you give me a detailed account?”

“He don’t talk cause they’d all be lies, that’s why, and I ain’t about to tell you or Pa what a traitor our little brother is.  He made his bed, and I’m done with him.”

My God.  I’d always thought Joe was mule-headed, but Hoss could be just as stubborn when he got his hackles up.

“You’ve seen Joe like this before … maybe not naked and broke, but there have been times in that kid’s life when he feels no one believes him, no one takes him seriously or takes his side.”

“He’s just poutin’, Adam, poor innocent Joe.  Well, no more poor Little Joe for me.”

“Why do you think he agreed to ride back with you from Carson?”

“Cause he’s broke,” Hoss said assuredly.  “Cause he didn’t have nowhere else to go.”

I took a deep breath and continued.  “He would have found a way,” I said.  “He may be young, but he’s resourceful.”

“Fine then.  He wanted to see Pa.”

“But you never told him about Pa.”

“Dadburnit, Adam.  What are you tryin’ to say?”

“Julia Bulette.”

“Huh?  What about her?”

My, God.  He was as thick as a brick today.  “Remember when we found Joe in the saloon, drinking alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember why he was there?”

“I s’pose.”

“Let me refresh your memory,” I said slowly and calmly.  I stepped away from Cochise, laid the brush on the half wall, and crowded inside the stall with Hoss and Chub.  “Because someone he cared for, someone he loved turned him away, had no use for him any longer.  He’d done nothing wrong.  He’d given away his heart, and that same heart was trampled for no … good … reason.”  Did I have to spell it out?

Hoss stared over my head; his blue eyes glistened.  “You think it’s all my fault?  You think I done him wrong?”

“I think you were beaten down so far that you were blinded to the truth.  This is Joe we’re talking about, Hoss.  His heart breaks easily; he takes rejection hard.  While you find peace in the solitude of nature, Joe drowns himself in a bottle.  Do you really think, deep down in your heart,” I enunciated every word slowly, “Joe would ever leave you behind?  And now, he has no one to turn to, Hoss.  He’s lost his best friend.”

My brother relaxed his firm stance, but I continued my little speech.  “How did you get to Pigeon’s ranch?”

“I walked,” he said after clearing his throat.

“But when you couldn’t walk any farther.  When you were so exhausted you couldn’t take another step, how did Pigeon find you in that field?  You were belly down.  How did he see you in the tall grass?”

“I don’t know.  I passed out or somethin’.  I don’t remember.”

“Well, I do know what happened.”  I was so upset with Hoss that I could barely get the words out.  “Because someone was sitting next to you.  Because someone wouldn’t leave your side until help arrived.  Who was that person, Hoss?  Who cared enough to stay with his big brother, to die right alongside you?  Who didn’t want to go on living without you?  Who?”  I nearly shouted.

~~~

When Hoss walked out of the barn, his shoulders slumped forward, and his eyes were aimed toward the ground. Repeatedly, he hit his hat against the side of his leg; I knew I’d struck a chord.  But I wanted nothing to do with him; I wanted nothing to do with either of them.  I was tired, too tired to live like this any longer.

When I finally ventured upstairs, Joe was kneeling at my father’s bedside, and Hoss was leaning against the far wall observing the two without interrupting their time together.  Joe held my father’s hand to the side of his face, and I could hear him muttering words, more of a litany quietly spoken.

Paul Martin fastened the leather buckle on his bag and reached for his suit coat before patting Joe on the shoulder.  “I’ll stop by again tomorrow, son.”  The doc nodded at Hoss and walked toward the doorway where I stood.  I followed him down the stairs.

“How’s he doing?”  I asked.

“About the same, Adam.  His heartbeat seems stronger than yesterday but as you can see, he’s not out of the woods yet.  I’ve told Mrs. Guthrie she’s no longer needed.  She’ll be leaving with me.”

“I guess that’s the best we can hope for at this stage.”

“Well, having those two boys home might encourage Ben to wake up.  Of course, I can’t say for sure.”  I nodded.  Doc and I both knew what had caused the attack, even if the words weren’t spoken aloud.  “Keep pushing liquids,” Paul said, “and pray for a miracle.”

“Stubborn, mule-headed,” I mumbled.  When Paul smiled but held back a laugh, I returned a smile of my own.  “You better keep your bag handy, Doc.  I may be the next in line.”

“Well, let’s hope not.  One sick party in this household is plenty.”

“Thanks, Paul.  I know you’ve done everything possible.”

Mrs. Guthrie had gathered her things, came down the stairs, and stood alongside the doctor. “I hope you boys know what you’re doing,” she said.

“We’ll take care of him, but your help has been invaluable,” I said.  “Thank you.”

Mrs. Guthrie leaned forward and whispered in my ear.  “I suggest Joseph takes a bath.”

“I’ll see to it, ma’am.”

“See that you do.”

“I’ll be out tomorrow,” Paul said.  “Take turns tonight, but someone needs to be with Ben.  Don’t leave him alone.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

I saw Paul and Harriet to the door before I spoke to Hop Sing who came darting out of the kitchen like a wild banshee.  “Time woman go,” he said.  “She try running Hop Sing out of kitchen all time.  She not welcome.”

“She’s gone.”  I patted the Chinaman’s shoulder.  “The kitchen’s yours.”

“Good.  No room for woman in Hop Sing kitchen.”

“Yes, I know.”  My patience was growing thinner by the minute.

“Supper ready half hour.  You tell brothers clean up before come Hop Sing table.”

“I will.”

And he was gone, and I was too tired to climb back up the stairs.  I flopped down in Pa’s chair, propped both feet on the table, and lay my head back against the soft leather.  If I wasn’t careful, I’d fall asleep, but there wasn’t time for sleep, and even though I felt myself relax, I couldn’t give in.  Clean my brothers, eat supper, watch over Pa, the list never ended, and there were times I, too, wanted to run away, but the possibility of that happening was…

~~~

One, two, three, four five, six … The chiming jolted me awake, and the smell of fresh-brewed coffee alerted my senses to a new day.  I blinked repeatedly and tried to focus on the clock across the room.  Six a.m.  I’d fallen asleep after all, sitting upright in my father’s chair.  I stood and rotated my shoulders, relieving the stiffness before stepping into Hop Sing’s kitchen for a cup of coffee.

“You see brothers first.  Then have coffee with breakfast.”

I should have argued, I should have demanded a mug to take with me instead; I turned and did as the Chinaman had asked.  I hauled myself up the stairs.  After sleeping in my clothes and boots, I wanted to strip down and sit in a hot tub, although remembering how Joe smelled when he rode in yesterday, he would definitely have first dibs on a bath.

I passed Joe’s room and then Hoss’.  I was surprised to find neither was sleeping or cleaning up or getting dressed.  Pa’s door stood wide open and there were voices softly speaking.  I stood in the doorway and wondered if I was dreaming or if what I saw was real.

With pillows propped behind him, my father was sitting up in bed, still pale, his hair disheveled, but he was alert and listening to Joe rattle on about something I couldn’t quite make out.

My father looked up and smiled and then lifted his hand from the bed and waved me over. Hoss turned in his chair and Joe, sitting on the bed next to Pa, motioned me into the room too.  My brothers had bathed, shaved, combed their hair, and each sported fresh, clean clothes.  Maybe I really was dreaming.

“Morning, brother,” Joe said.  “Look who’s awake.”

“I see.  Should you be sitting up?”  I asked my father.

“Should I not?”

My father’s voice was hoarse from lack of use, but he found the wit to question me with a touch of sarcasm.  His eyes glistened with the joy of having his family surround him, and I was reminded of years gone by when Joe would snuggle deep in Pa’s lap, telling of his day’s adventures.  I wondered if he’d done that last night if he and Hoss had come to terms, had fought the demons, and made peace with each other.  It certainly appeared they had, but I didn’t want to jump the gun.

It seemed much had transpired while I slept the night away.  A true sense of harmony filled my father’s room, and it appeared as though matters had been settled without any help or interference.  Maybe the road wasn’t paved with gold and maybe there would still be ruts and bumps, but there was a beginning, and that’s all anyone could ask.

My brothers spent a year in hell.  They each returned home damaged goods and in need of repair.  I heard Joe first and Hoss followed suit.  It was laughter, quiet, subdued, far from boisterous, but laughter all the same.

I rounded the bed and saw both of their faces clearer than I could from the doorway.  The hard edges and anger had faded for now.  Whether it was just a façade, a noble pretense they each acted out for Pa, I would never be sure.  Only time would tell, although my fingers were crossed, and maybe my prayers had been answered, not only for Pa but for our entire family.  When Pa looked up and winked, I smiled.  A subtle nod of his head assured me that not only he but my two brothers were also on the road to recovery.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could sure use a hot cup of coffee.”

“Bring up the pot, big brother,” Joe said, winking at Hoss and thinking I wouldn’t see.

“What?”  I replied, forcing typical disdain at Joe’s request.  “Your legs broke?”

Pa closed his eyes and lay his head back against the pillows.  His lashes dipped to his cheeks, a smile touched his lips, and I knew our lives made sense once again.

The End

~~~

* I took liberty with the stage line and dynamite.  No stage traveled southwest from Virginia City, and dynamite hadn’t been invented yet.

9 – 2013

A Grown Man

by jfclover

An old man, sporting an outdated derby with garters holding up his puffy, white sleeves, threw back a drink from his bottle before playing a lively rendition of a familiar sounding tune; old Betsy, no, young Betsy or someone from somewhere, I don’t remember, and I couldn’t care less.  Adam did a much better job with this little ditty, but that was a long time ago.  Three brothers born by three separate mothers, once a family, but no more.

Damn, the bottle was empty …

I reached deep inside my pocket, but there was nothing left but a ball of lint.  Not sure why Pa thought I deserved wages for doing next to nothing, but I was handed ready cash at the end of every month.  I’m sure Candy and the rest of the hired hands were sick of covering, day in and day out, but I didn’t much care what anyone thought.

My eldest brother left home to travel the world, and there’s no mistaking why he chose to leave the ranch and his family behind.  Because of me, I’m sure.  Because of our continuous fighting and arguing over the simplest of things, one of us had to go.  After nearly thirty years, we never actually learned how to get along; we only tolerated each other until Adam walked out the door for good.

And now, my middle brother—my best friend in this world—has left home, too.  I can’t bear to look at my father for fear of what I’ll see in the depths of his chocolate-brown eyes.  Pa has grown weary and old.  I’ve made a mess of my life and fools of us all.

“Hoss is a grown man,” my father said.  “Time is what he needs right now.  He’ll come home when he’s ready.”

Pa tried to make sense of the handwritten note Hoss left behind the morning he rode away.  For weeks, I searched his favorite haunts.  I rode along the lake and through the meadow he’d picked out for his bride-to-be.  I looked everywhere, but I’d return home without so much as a clue.  No tracks, no hint of a rider anywhere.  Pa was optimistic, but I knew otherwise.  Time doesn’t heal all wounds; scars remain embedded so deep a man can’t overlook or forget. 

Rather than heading home while there was still daylight, I came straight to the saloon in hopes I could drown in a bottle of amber-colored swill.  I circled the rim of my empty glass.  Daylight had given way to another evening of whiskey and hammered-out melodies I’d heard too many times before.  It was past time to start home.  It was past time for much of anything, although I was well passed the age when nighttime confrontations kept my father awake and waiting up for his wayward son.  I was on my own with no one I called brother and a father who chose distance rather than conflict.

Mornings came early.  Breakfast hadn’t interested me in a long time.  Without a word, I fastened my gunbelt and rode out to meet Candy and whatever hands were handling those poor little creatures.  At least, that was Hoss’s take on branding.  He hated this job more than anything, but it had to be done on a cattle ranch.  Pa had enough to worry about with Jamie, his adopted son.  Me?  I didn’t much care what the two of them talked about when I was out of earshot, but I’m sure there were subtle discussions concerning my altered behavior.

~~~

Candy stood back from the pit in a wide-open field, waving his hat high over his head.  Maybe he thought I rode right passed him, and maybe, deep down, he wished I would, but I wasn’t that far gone.  I tied Cooch in the shade of a nearby tree next to Candy’s mount then walked toward the men, who were busy dragging squalling calves, one-by-one, up close to the pit.  Candy clapped me on the back and handed me the tally sheet; the easiest job there was.

“Thanks,” I said.

The sun was nearly overhead by the time I showed up for work, and what made things even worse was the repeated veil of dust as rider and calf pulled up to stop in front of the burning pit.  Plus, every time I looked up, Candy was staring, keeping a watchful eye, a courtesy for Pa.    

“Male,” Candy called out.  I marked it down in the book.  

I ran the back of my hand over my sweat-covered face and tried to steady myself under the blazing heat of the sun.  I spread my feet farther apart, tilted my hat, and took deep breaths to steady the dizziness sweeping through me.  My eyes were unfocused; the paper blurred in my hand.  My marks were unreadable on the page, and I …

~~~

Men talked in hushed tones, and Candy was shading my face with his hat.

“What happened?”  I asked, trying to sit up.

“You passed out, buddy?”

“Hot—“

“Yeah.”

Candy helped me up and hollered over his shoulder at the men, standing around watching the boss’ son faint dead away.  He hollered over his shoulder.  “Get back to work.  Nothin’ more to see here.”  The men would report to him later.  Candy was taking me home.

“I can get there by myself,” I said, but Candy had other plans.  He dismissed my remark as he’d often done before.

I’d lost track of how many times our foreman had loaded me onto the saddle and ridden with me, making sure I got home and didn’t veer off the Ponderosa and back to the saloon.  I should have been grateful.  Candy never complained, never said a word, but I needed a drink more than I needed to be mollycoddled.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been dragged home unable to work, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.  Maybe it was time for me to leave home as well.  Hell, everyone else had.  The ranch would run smoother, and Pa wouldn’t have to be constantly embarrassed, having a worthless no-good drunk for a son.  And because this had happened more than once, Pa had learned to look the other way when Candy brought me through the house with my arm slung over his shoulder.  

“I’ll take it from here,” I said, hoping he would leave my room and close the door on his way out.  He did, and I was grateful.  I threw my hat on the chair and fell back on the bed.  I was so tired.  My mind drifted back to the beginning of the nightmare that had become our daily lives.  If I’d only known then what lay ahead, if only . . .

~~~

“You sick or somethin’?  How come you’re not eating?”  I asked soon after Hoss and Pa and I sat down for supper.

“Ain’t got no appetite.”

Pa and I both dropped our forks onto our plates, and with perplexed looks, we stared at my big brother, whose appetite for Hop Sing’s meals never failed to amaze.

“You feel all right, son?”

“I’m fine, Pa, just ain’t hungry’s all.”

I have to admit, in all my years living with this family, I’d never heard that statement from Hoss.  I looked toward my father, and we each shrugged our shoulders in disbelief.  

“I … I met a gal,” he finally said without making eye contact but turning a subtle shade of red anyway.

Pa and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows at this sudden revelation.  I set my fork down again and propped my elbows on the table, hoping for a little more information.  When nothing came, I had to ask.  “And?”

“Well—” Hoss said, “I met her in town, I mean, I bumped into her at the mercantile and—“

“You mean you actually bumped her or—”

“If you must know, Joseph, I knocked her packages out of her hands.”

It took everything I had not to burst out laughing, but Pa gave me a look that said don’t you dare.  So, I sat across the table from my brother, covered my mouth with balled up fists, and kept quiet in order to hear the rest of his story.

“Go on,” I said, trying to keep my voice in control, even though I was as giddy as a schoolboy, waiting for the punchline of a silly joke.

“Well, so I picked up her packages and stacked them all neat like and asked if I could carry ‘em out for her.”

He kept hesitating, and it was driving me crazy.  “And—“

Hoss gave me a cursory look, then glanced at Pa.  “And I carried ‘em for her,” he said, exasperated by my pushing for the rest of the story.

Pa also had fisted hands to cover his mouth, but they gave way when he reached in his vest pocket for his pipe.  Then he dug his fingers in another for a match.  When Hoss didn’t continue, Pa finally spoke.  “Does this young lady have a name?”

Hoss glared at me again before answering.  “Her name is Allison Parker, and she said I could call her Ali like all her friends do.”

“That sounds very nice, son,” Pa said and, after settling back in his chair, he lit his pipe.

I pushed my plate forward and leaned in, resting my arms on the table, and looked up at Hoss, who had that dreamy kind of look on his face.  “Maybe I’d like to meet this girl,” I said.

“You just keep your mitts off her and find your own gal, Joseph.  This one’s all staked out, and she don’t need you bothering her none.”

“All right, brother, if you say so.”  I’d let him off the hook for now.  I was only teasing, but it was unfair to tease Hoss about any girl.  I was truly happy for him, but a small amount of ribbing never hurt.

It wasn’t long after that initial conversation that Hoss got up the nerve to bring the love of his life home to meet the family.  Pa and I were dressed in our Sunday best, and even though I was well into adulthood, I had been warned to behave myself.  I was a grown man, and I knew the proper way to behave no matter what the circumstance.

Hop Sing had cooked and cleaned all day.  He even had Pa and me moving furniture so he could make sure there wasn’t a speck of dust or dirt left in the house.  He’d made special dishes he reserved for special guests and could hardly contain himself when we heard the surrey pull up out in front.

“It’s time, Joseph.”

I nodded to Pa, and suddenly my stomach had jitters as if we were entertaining the Queen of England.  Good grief, this was just a girl Hoss had met, not Victoria herself.  Hoss and I had tried to work a normal day, although we had come in at lunchtime and never went back to finish our chores.  He couldn’t keep his mind on his work, and like a fool, I stayed here, too, and ended up suffering through cleaning detail with Hop Sing.

Pa and I made sure our black ties were straight, then Pa gave me a quick glance before opening the front door.  Light flooded the front porch as the handsome couple stood hand-in-hand.  Never in my life had I seen my brother more proud and happy to be alive.

It was a chilly night, and the lovebirds came through the door and into the warmth of the house before introductions were made.  Allison Parker was a tiny little thing next to Hoss, not even half his size.  With her light-brown hair drawn up off her neck, she still had the look of a schoolgirl.  She was slim in the right places but shapely in others and had a fragile, almost delicate appearance.  She wore a simple store-bought dress with a high neckline, which I’m sure she thought was proper attire for meeting a man’s family for the first time.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Parker,” I said, bringing her hand to my lips.  In his own nervous way, Hoss had described her as beautiful.  They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I was looking at the most beautiful woman in the world.

“That’s enough, Joseph,” Hoss said, cautioning me to let go of her hand.

“Hoss has told me so much about both of you,” she said, glancing between my father and me.

“All good, I hope,” Pa chuckled.

“He’s very proud of his family.”

Pa looked up at Hoss with such delight, he smiled as only a father could before moving in on that son and placing Ali’s hand on his arm.  Pa and Ali walked slowly to the settee, and he offered her a seat closest to his leather chair.  I was just now beginning to understand Pa’s thoughts on the matter.  This might be his first daughter-in-law, and he was going to make sure she felt comfortable in every way. 

We soon finished dinner with all of Hop Sing’s fancy fixin’s and, as far as I could tell, we’d done our job well in making Ali feel special and, if nothing else, at ease in this house full of men.  If Hoss had been nervous about the evening, he needn’t have.  Everything he could have hoped for came true.  Pa was gracious as always, and I had behaved quite nicely.

I leaned back in Adam’s blue chair after we’d all come back in front of the fire for an after-dinner drink.  Pa poured us each a brandy, and we all sat and talked without a moment’s unease.  The happy couple seemed so right for each other, and neither seemed in a hurry to leave so we had a pleasant conversation and got to know Miss Ali Parker fairly well as the evening progressed.  

She was witty, and at times, she had us all in stitches.  She had no difficulty whatsoever conversing with three men, especially my father, as he bombarded her with one question after another.  Hoss and I sat back and let the two of them talk, and talk they did.

Pa asked about her plans now that she was living in Virginia City.  I think he wondered why a young lady would come alone to such a place when she didn’t know a soul in all of Nevada.

Her answer was simple.  “I needed a change, Mr. Cartwright.  After my parents died, and with no brothers or sisters, I took a chance.  I remembered my father telling stories about his Uncle Henry, who had come here years ago, planning to make a fortune in the silver mines.  So, I took a chance and came west, too, but not to look for silver or gold.  We never heard from Uncle Henry again so maybe things didn’t work out for him the way he’d originally planned.  I wanted a change of scenery; a change from the mass of people all crammed together in St. Louis, and look who I found,” she said, gazing up at my brother.  “I couldn’t be happier.  I’m so very glad I took the chance.”

“We’re very glad too, Miss Parker.”  Pa winked at Hoss, and of course, Hoss blushed.

We said our goodbyes, but we wouldn’t wait up.  We would meet with Hoss at breakfast.  Knowing my brother as I did, he would still be reeling, and it would be my job to lure him back to earth so we could get in a decent day’s work.

~~~

As weeks turned into months, Hoss and Ali became inseparable.  I missed my brother’s company, and it was time to find an activity of my own.  One of those activities was a brown-haired woman with stunning eyes named Marianne Carver.  We often double-dated with Hoss, going to barn dances or picnics on Sunday afternoons, but life for Hoss and me had changed.  Hoss was in love, and I was still playing the field.  Marianne was a nice girl and fun to be with, although there was no spark, nothing special.  Before Marianne, I was seen about town with Deborah, a petite blonde, but again, nothing special.  I envied Hoss’ happiness, but it was a good envy.  I knew what I wanted, and I realized what I didn’t have, at least not with any of the young ladies I’d been seeing.

The relationship between Marianne and me had run its course just as Deborah and I failed to connect only weeks before.  Winter passed, and spring was settling in.  The days grew longer as did the constant list of chores.  

As with the dawning of spring, changes were inevitable on the Ponderosa.  Pa hired a new foreman named Canaday, Candy for short.  We would eventually lose Hoss as a permanent ranchhand after he built a place of his own and, as always, my father felt the need to keep ahead of the game.  And since Hoss had always done the work of two men, this was a start in the right direction.  The new foreman and I got along well and as soon as he settled in, we all realized he was worth his weight in gold.  

~~~

Hoss soon made his announcement.  My brother planned to marry.  He and Ali settled on a late summer wedding and although she had no relatives attending the event, she still needed time to make all the necessary arrangements.  Hoss made sure she had everything a bride deserved, and he was content with her making all the arrangements and explaining every detail at the end of the day.

“Gonna be the finest shindig Virginia City’s ever seen, Little Joe, and it wouldn’t be right if you weren’t my best man.”

I was speechless when Hoss asked, although I clapped him on the back and smiled.  “I’d be proud to, brother.”  But my thoughts soon jumped to my eldest brother.  “You gonna try and find Adam?”

“Don’t know where to write no more since he quit sending letters home.”

“You’re probably right.”  I knew Hoss would want Adam to stand up with him if there was any way to get in touch.  I would talk to Pa, but I knew he was as much in the dark as we were.

Hoss still worked alongside Candy and me, doing whatever Pa had planned for that day, but as soon as we finished, he was shaving his face, changing his shirt, and off to have supper with his future bride.  Who could blame him?  He’d waited a lifetime for this woman named Ali, and he was making every minute count.  They were perfect for each other; truly, a match made in heaven.

~~~

It was early May when Hoss and Candy and I headed out to finish the branding, which I admit was my least favorite chore on a ranch, and one I would gladly turn over to anyone else who’d take it on.  Pa looked at the tallies this morning before breakfast and thought this should be our final day.  We’d already figured that out ourselves, but that was my father’s way, always in control, always providing directives to his sons, grown men or not.

None of us was in a big hurry, and we rode at a leisurely pace out to the fire pit where we’d spent most of the past week.  Two ranch hands had arrived before us and were already rounding up boisterous young calves for us to mark.

“I’ll ride out—see what I can find,” I hollered to Hoss and Candy.

They were perfectly happy with my decision, and both stayed behind to work the pit.  It was amazing where we’d find these little critters, hiding behind shrubs, rocks, and everything else.  By the time I’d done a couple of hours’ worth of ridin’ and ropin’, I was ready to climb out of the saddle.  A hot cup of coffee sounded mighty good, even though it was my turn to stand over the sweltering pit.

“Ready to trade places, little brother?”  His face was red; sweat and grime dripped from his brow.  The heat was intense, and the afternoon would prove long.

“Yeah, my turn.”  I glanced at Candy, holding a pencil and tally.  “Is this all you’ve been doing while the rest of us slave away?”

“Yep.” 

His lack of remorse made me shake my head.  “Seems only fair, I should take over, right?”

“You two work it out,” Hoss said before mounting Chub.

I felt generous and conceded to our new foreman.  Candy kept tally while I knelt down, digging the iron deep in the reddened coals.  He owed me now, and he knew it.  Next time I needed a favor, all I had to do was ask.

Hoss brought in a couple of calves early on, but that had been some time ago.  By the end of our last day, it became harder to find the remaining few since we were never sure of the exact count.  It was a guessing game, but it wasn’t like Hoss to be gone this long, and I was feeling a bit uneasy.  Sure, he was a big boy and could take care of himself, but accidents happen.

“Doesn’t it seem like Hoss has been gone a long time?”  I asked Candy as I stood to stretch out my legs and lower back.

“Yeah.  I’m sure he’s just being thorough, you know how he is.”

“Maybe I should go have a look-see.”

“Gettin’ tired of that branding iron?”

Sure I was.  Anyone would be, but that wasn’t the reason this time.  “Yeah,” I said.

“Okay, I’ll take over here.”

Candy knew I was concerned, although more often than not, he kept his thoughts to himself.  He was a good man to have around.  The more I worked with him, the more I was glad Pa’d hired him on.  Even the hands thought he was a good foreman and a fair man; the best we’d had in a long time.

I headed north, where it was mostly ravines and rough terrain, plenty of places for those little varmints to hide, and where Hoss might try to scare them out in the open.  There stood Chub; his head lowered to the ground, munching away on a patch of green grass.

“Hoss?”  I called out with my hand cupped to my mouth.  “Hoss?”

I rode up to Chub and quickly dismounted Cochise.  I ran my hand over the horse’s shoulders and flank, finding nothing, no telltale signs of anything out of place.  I called out again before I took off down a ravine and immediately spotted my brother.  He lay face down on hard-packed ground.  I raised his head just a touch.

“Mmm—”

“Thank God,” I said.  “You scared the hell outta me.  What happened?”

“Snake—”

“You bit?”

“No … scared Chubby.”  His breath was uneven, and pain etched deep-set lines in his face.  “My leg …”

“Looks broke, Hoss.  Anything else?”  There was no answer.  “Hang on, Brother.”  I ran back to Cooch and grabbed my canteen and bedroll.  “You need to take a drink.”  I was afraid to move him; I didn’t know the extent of the damage, and when I tried to lift his head, he cried out before the canteen met his lips.  “What else?  Talk to me, Hoss.”

“Shoulder—“

Although the air was warm, I covered him with the bedroll and leaned in close to his ear.  “I’ll send Candy for help.  You can’t ride like this.”  God, I hated to leave him, but I had no choice.  “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Uh huh …”

I could almost feel my brother’s pain as I ran to Cochise, forcing him to run before I mounted.  I rode fast, faster than I should have, and when I met up with Candy, who’d stepped away from the other two men by the pit, I skidded to a stop, spraying a cloud of dust in my wake.

“Hoss is down.  I’ll need a wagon to take him home.  Can’t put him on a horse.”

“Okay.  I’ll go.  Where is he?”

“He’s just before the ravine, passed a big cottonwood on the right.”

“I’ll hurry,” Candy said, “but it’ll take me at least an hour to get there and back.”

“I’m taking your bedroll and canteen.  Send someone for the doc before you leave; have him meet us at the house.”  I was shouting orders right and left, but this was my brother, and Candy understood the seriousness of the situation.

“On my way.”  Candy grabbed his canteen and untied his bedroll, handing them down before he took off.

“Let’s call it a day, fellas.”  They’d seen me ride up and had overheard me barking orders to Candy. 

Jack was the first to step up.  “Anything I can do, Joe?”

“Yeah, come with me and you can take Chub and Cochise back to the house.  Explain to my father what’s happened, and we’re on our way home.”

Jack and I rode together.  I grabbed the canteen and bedroll from Chub before he left. “Thanks,” I said, before sidestepping back down the ravine to my brother.

I knelt down next to Hoss and rested my hand on his broad back, but there was no movement at all.  Hoping he’d only passed out, I shook out a bedroll, folded it in a square, and placed it under his head; the other I’d save for the trip home. 

When his eyes opened, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief.  “Let’s try the water again,” I said, raising his head and holding the canteen to his lips.  Most dribbled onto the folded blanket but with patience, he managed small sips.

“Ali—”

“Candy’s gone for the wagon and someone’s gone to get Doc.  I’ll let Ali know in the morning after we get you all patched up.”

“Supper—”

“You’re hungry?”  Then it hit me.  He would have gone to Ali’s for supper.  “I’ll let her know as soon as I can, Hoss, just lie still.  Don’t worry, I’ll take special good care of your girl.”  

~~~

“I’ll take special good care of your girl.”  Those words were said months ago when we were a family, when I was still considered an honorable man.  But I’d let my mind wander back to the day that changed all of our lives.  

As I dropped one foot to the floor, it kept me steady in a room spinning out of control.  Just like my life, spinning in circles, spinning and going nowhere.  My head pounded relentlessly as I pushed myself to the edge of my bed and wondered why I bothered doing anything at all.  Flashes of Candy dragging me home made me realize I’d missed another day of work. 

But days and nights ran together, and I drifted, semi-consciously, through a hazy world turned upside-down, semi-aware of time or surroundings.  Somehow, I remained alive, though there was no reasonable explanation for my continued existence, considering the path I’d chosen.

Planting myself in front of the washstand, I splashed cold water on my face and glanced at my reflection in the small, oval mirror.  A half-baked smile formed, and I dropped my head and walked away.  I needed a drink and reached in my drawer for the few dollars that remained of my pay.  I shoved the notes in my pocket and picked up my gunbelt, draped it over my shoulder, and left the serenity of my room behind.  

“Joe?”

I’d hoped Pa was anywhere but behind his desk, pretending to be working when actually, he was waiting for me to make an appearance.  Out of courtesy, I hesitated when my father approached and cautiously, he touched his hand to my arm.

“Will you stay for supper?”

I closed my eyes to block out the pleading undertones in Pa’s tentative voice.  This was not my father.  This was a man who’d lost everything he held dear.  No amount of wealth or power could repair a broken family.  His smile was gone; his eyes redrimmed most of the time.  His world had collapsed, folded in on him like a closed book.  No more chapters would be written.

If I wanted to stay, I would.  If I wanted to talk I would, but I was incapable of either.  I was incapable of sitting down to supper with Pa when the lure of a smoke-filled, rowdy saloon called my name, forcing me to leave my father and walk away from the type of life we once shared.

“I’m sorry, Pa.  Not tonight.”

Taking my usual table near the back of the saloon, I’d already picked up my bottle and glass at the bar.  It was early, but soon the music would start and the ladies would waltz down the stairs with their painted faces and low-cut dresses.  They’d work their magic and lure eager, young men to their rooms for a few short minutes of off-color entertainment.  Night after night, I sat alone; the painted faces didn’t bother to entice, but tonight, memories of that day in the ravine with Hoss, broken and in pain, traveled straight through me.  

~~~

My brother was in agony, and I stayed by his side, forcing water until Candy and Pa pulled up in the wagon.  Pa knelt by my side, and I tried my best to stay calm and tell him what I knew so far.  We needed to get Hoss loaded into the wagon and get him home; he’d been out in the elements a good long time.  

Paul Martin was ready and waiting on the front porch when we pulled the wagon up close to the front door.  Pa had climbed in back with Hoss while I sat up front with Candy.  The three of us managed to get my brother to his room.

After getting Hoss settled, it was close to three hours before Paul Martin and Hop Sing descended the stairs.  He looked exhausted as he rolled down his sleeves and graciously accepted the cup of coffee Pa handed him.

“Well?”  Pa asked, anxious for word.

After taking a deep breath, Paul took a seat in my father’s chair while Pa eased down onto the low wooden table in front of him.  “His leg is broken, Ben, but he’s also fractured his collarbone, and at this point, I’m not sure which will take longer to heal.  He’s not in pain right now. I gave him a sedative, but he’ll definitely feel the results of my efforts when he wakes up.  The leg will mend nicely, I’m sure, but we’ll have to watch him closely for infection with the shoulder.  I had to open him up to set the bone, and I gave Hop Sing all the instructions for his care.  The next couple of days are going to be rough, and I suggest you take turns staying with him day and night until we’re sure he’s out of danger.”

I listened along with Pa and Candy, wondering why this couldn’t have been me instead.  That’s all I could think of.  Hoss had so much to live for, so much to look forward to.  He should be enjoying the summer months with his bride-to-be, not laid up from a stupid, senseless accident.  Although Pa was speechless, I suddenly remembered the last thing Hoss asked me to do.

“Ali,” I blurted through the quiet room.  “ She needs to know.”

“It’s late son.  No sense worrying her tonight.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head and starting for the front door.  “I promised Hoss.  I won’t be long.”  My father would want to sit with Hoss tonight anyway, and if I spoke to Ali now, I’d be ready to relieve Pa in the morning.  It all made perfect sense.

“Joe …”

“I won’t be long.”

Luckily, there was a full moon, or I could have easily ended up in the same predicament as my brother.  I tied Cooch up in front of Ali’s cream-colored house and headed up the front walk.  I’d been here before with Hoss, but this time was different, and I dreaded the story I’d have to tell.  Even though it was late, too late for Hoss or for dinner, it wasn’t too late to call.  With a lamp burning brightly in the front window, she was probably still dressed and waiting for my brother to arrive.

“Who’s there?”  Ali called from inside the house.

“It’s Joe Cartwright.  I need to speak with you.”  The door opened slightly and quickly, and she turned her head away, but not before I saw red-rimmed eyes and realized she’d been crying.  I stepped inside.  “Ali?”

With a frilly, lace handkerchief, she quickly dabbed her eyes and then turned to face me.  “I’m sorry, Joe.”  Her voice was unsteady.  She tucked the handkerchief back in her skirt pocket.  “I don’t understand.  Why are you here?”

Now I was more nervous than ever.  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea; maybe Pa was right.  How would I tell her about Hoss when something else had her so upset?  “May … maybe I should go,” I said hesitantly.

“No,” she said, pulling herself to full height.  “I’m okay now.”

I felt awkward, standing alone in Ali’s house, but I’d promised my brother.  Hoss wanted her to know, but I could always soften the blow.  Just tell her the bare minimum.  I glanced at her small, round table, draped with a floral cloth, set with china and candles, and knew Hoss had been expected earlier.  I wasn’t sure where to begin.  No one would have stopped by and told her already; none of our hands would have thought that far ahead. 

I followed her into the kitchen.  “Can I help?” 

“Oh,” she gasped.  “You scared me.  I was just making a fresh pot of coffee.”

“What’s wrong, Ali?”  Damn.  Why’d I go and ask?  I never had the sense to keep my mouth shut.

Tears came again.  Although her back was to me, I watched her pull the same handkerchief from her pocket.  I walked toward her and let my hands fall on her shoulders.  “Hey, Ali, nothing’s that bad.”

She turned suddenly and wrapped her arms around me.  I held her until she regained control.  “Come on,” I said, guiding her to the small sofa in the parlor.  I sat down next to her, resting my arm across her shoulders.  She leaned into me and began to explain.

“Hoss and I had an argument, and when he didn’t show up for supper—”

“Ali, it’s not what you think.  He couldn’t come.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”  I touched her chin and tilted her head so our eyes would meet.  “Hoss is hurt.  He fell from his horse and—”

Her body stiffened as she took in my words.  “Fell?  He’s hurt?”

“It’s bad.  He fractured his leg and his collarbone.”  So much for the bare minimum.

“Will you take me out to the ranch?”

I thought over her request.  Hoss had been sedated.  He wouldn’t know anything until tomorrow, and that was soon enough.  “Let him sleep tonight, and I’ll come and pick you up early in the morning.”

“The coffee!” she cried when we both heard it boil over and hiss on top of the stove.  She ran from the sofa and pulled the steaming pot away from the heat.  “You’ll stay for a cup?”

“Sure, I’d love to.”

Hoss and Ali fighting?  I tried to picture the scene.  Hoss hated confrontation of any kind, so it was hard to imagine.  Although he could lose his temper with Adam and me when we were younger, he’d never be upset with Ali.

After she cleared away the dishes, we each took a seat at the dining room table.  Without asking, she cut me a piece of apple pie she’d obviously baked for my brother.  I explained what I could.  “Seems a snake spooked Chub and sent Hoss flying off the horse’s back.”  I quickly admonished myself.  Easy Joe.  Bare minimum.  The doctor’s already come and gone, and he guaranteed Hoss would heal just fine in time.”

Ali hung on every word, sitting quietly and listening while I spoke.  She never touched her piece of pie, and neither did I.  It had been a long, exhausting day, and I was tired and needed to return home.  There’d been no hint or explanation as to why she was upset when I’d arrived, but they’d work things out, of that, I was sure.

“I’ll leave the ranch at daybreak, Ali.  I’ll drive you out and bring you home later in the day.”  

“You won’t forget—”

“I won’t forget.”  I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.  “Don’t worry.  He’s as tough as they come.  Everything will work out fine.”

~~~

Five simple words.  I poured another drink.  Oh yeah, everything turned out just fine.

Loud voices and spirited pandemonium interrupted my thoughts.  A simple drink in a quiet bar would have been a luxury; instead, I lifted my eyes to see what the commotion was all about.  It was nothing I hadn’t witnessed before, an upturned table with glasses and cash money crashing noisily to the floor.

Someone had a winning hand and someone else was not at all pleased with the outcome; same story, different night.  The sheriff would walk in shortly to haul the rowdy men off to jail or send them all home.  I knew the routine.  The saloon would settle back down to a low roar until it started all over again.

This is what I’d been reduced to: sitting night after night, wasting away, clinging to this bottle if for no other reason than I had nothing better to do with my life.  That’s what Pa called it early on: wasting my life, but nothing else felt right, nothing else really mattered.

In the beginning, my father had Candy follow me.  Pa was worried—Pa always worries—and he’d send our foreman out looking when I didn’t make it home before dark.  Well, he’d find me; same place, doing the same thing.  He often tried to cheer me up and, in his own light-hearted way, make me believe my brother would someday return and, like brothers usually did, we’d patch up our differences.

Candy wasn’t naïve.  He’d figured things out long before anyone else, but he never cast blame.  “Takes two to tango, my friend.”  I hadn’t found anything to smile about for a long time.  That night, I did.  

I often wondered if Hoss felt as lost as I did.  Where was he tonight, and where would he be tomorrow?  Hoss disappeared with no forwarding address while I disappeared into a bottle.  Pa was right.  He’d lost two sons.  Pa was right about many things; things he couldn’t change, but God bless him, he tried.

As it turned out, there was only one barroom dispute, a slow night for Roy and, as my bottle and glass sat empty, a sense of tranquility for me.  Tomorrow was just another day, and I was in absolutely no rush to ride home.  Pa’s wayward son would stumble into bed and repeat the ongoing process again tomorrow.  

The night was clear, and Cochise knew the way.  And, in the dulled recesses of my inebriated brain, I thought back to last summer when so many lives suddenly changed

~~~

“Make sure you pick Ali up for church in the mornin’, Joseph.  She don’t like going by herself,” Hoss said, looking up from the checkerboard we’d set up on his bed.

“Don’t we always?  Pa and I take such good care of that girl, she’ll be spoiled rotten by the time you’re up and around.  I assure you, brother, she’s being looked after quite well.”  

“Just make sure you do.”  A smile broke through, and with his good hand, Hoss jumped one of my blacks.  “King me, Joseph.”

Being laid up was my specialty, not my brother’s.  I’d been confined to bed more times than a man should, and I knew from experience how boredom could affect a man’s disposition.  I was truly sympathetic, and I did everything I could to keep my brother entertained.  We all did.

Ali spent her days with Hoss.  I’d drive in early to pick her up while Candy did the morning chores.  We’d head out to work, and I’d make the return trip to town in the evenings.  The days were long, but we all seemed to manage the hectic schedule.

Red checkers lined up in a precarious order … so pretty, and I smiled when I realized my next move.  “Ready?”

“For what?”  Hoss scrunched his eyebrows tightly together

One, two, three in a row—I jumped my brother’s red pieces and leaned back in the chair, grinning at his furrowed brow.  “I cain’t concentrate no more,” he said.  “I hate lying here.  Dadgummit, Joe, my brain’s wastin’ away to nothin’.”

“Don’t look like you’re wastin’ away at all, big brother.”  He scowled, which he did every time I mentioned his girth, but he knew I’d never stop.  Quickly, I changed the subject.  “Hey Hoss—why haven’t you ever taught Ali to ride?”

He shrugged his one good shoulder.  “I don’t know. Kinda like her dependin’ on me, you know?”

“Oh.”

“Why ya ask?”

“I donno.  Why don’t I bring her out here after church tomorrow?  She can start out on old Nellie.  She’s like sitting a rocking chair, and if the doc ever lets you out of bed, you can watch her progress in the yard from your window.”

“Yeah,” Hoss said, his face lighting up with a smile.  “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because I’m the one with the brains, and you’re the one with the brawn.”  I quickly ducked when the checkerboard flew my way.

~~~

After church the following morning, Pa rode home on Buck, and I drove the buggy to Ali’s to get a change of clothes, although I didn’t tell her the plans Hoss and I’d made.  “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on, Joe?”

“Because it’s a surprise—that’s why.”

“And I have to change my clothes for this surprise?”

‘Yes, ma’am.”

I wanted to laugh when I saw the half-smile on her face.  It took me back; something about that look reminded me of … Adam would have played the same trick on me, and I remembered how much I hated having to wait, not knowing the outcome when everyone else did.

Considering how nervous she was around horses, I was leaving it up to Hoss to tell her the plan.  She wasn’t going to con me into spilling the beans like everything else she’d gotten out of me when I should have kept silent.  She was very crafty that way.

No one made me laugh like Ali Parker.  There was always a jab here, a jab there, a sideways look or a subtle giggle.  She was quick-witted and compliments came easy, and she definitely knew how to boost a man’s ego.  She was much more than just a pretty face, which made me understand perfectly why Hoss had fallen in love that day in the mercantile.

“Giddy-up,” I said, pulling away from her house.  I was able to keep the secret, but we still laughed and teased during the trip to the ranch.  I only hoped her cheerful disposition continued after Hoss told her the plan.

Reaching for her hand, I pulled her up the stairs to Hoss’s room.  Although he saw her more often, now that he’d been laid up, a wide grin spread across my brother’s face.  “How’s my girl?”

“Well, your younger brother has been teasing me unmercifully.”

I smiled and dipped my head, but Hoss looked terribly confused.  “Joe?” he said, looking my way.

“Yes, Joe,” she cut in.  “I have this bundle of clothes, and your brother won’t tell me why on earth I had to bring them.”

“Oh that,” Hoss chuckled.

“Well?”  Her look nearly unnerved my brother.  With her bundle in one hand, the other hand resting on her hip, she tried her best to look upset with the two of us.  I smiled again and backed slowly out of his bedroom, leaving Hoss to explain.  I had done my job and brought her here.  Now it was up to him to convince her to give it a shot, but before anything else, it was time to eat Sunday dinner.

With Hoss not allowed out of bed, Pa and I filled our plates and headed upstairs to eat with the lovebirds.  My brother’s bedroom was already filled with extra chairs since that’s where Pa and I spent our evenings, and Ali spent her days.  Hop Sing carried up a tray with two more plates, one piled much higher than the other, and the four of us had dinner before the riding lessons would begin.  Because we outnumbered Ali three-to-one and because we thought learning to ride was important here in the West, she caved and said she would give it a try.  

“Joe’s the best teacher you’ll ever have,” Hoss said.  “He’s the horse expert in this family.”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say—”

“Well, I would.  And ….”

Hoss continued his praise, and naturally, I grew embarrassed, only to look away before glancing back toward Ali, who turned just slightly and winked.  The room felt suddenly warm, and I forced a smile in her direction.

“He’ll take it nice and slow, won’t ya, Joe, so you got nothin’ to worry about no how.”

I was no more of an expert than anyone else, but Hoss wanted to take away any doubts or fears, leaving Ali at ease since she had to spend the day with me rather than him.  Hoss was like that.  He was a master at creating a relaxed atmosphere out of an awkward situation.

With my dinner plate empty and Hoss begging for seconds, I excused myself, changed out of my Sunday best, and headed to the barn to ready Nellie and Cochise.  By the time I led two saddled horses into the yard, Ali had changed into a white blouse and dark split skirt and had even unpinned her hair, letting it cascade over her shoulders.  Although there was no real bounce to her step, she was being a good sport about this whole endeavor.

“We won’t go far today,” I said, already seeing signs of fear in her eyes.  “We’ll just walk—nothing more, okay?”

“He’s awfully big, Joe.”

I had more to explain than I originally thought.  We really did have to start at the beginning.  “First off,” I said, draping my arm across her shoulders, “this is Nellie, and she’s a she, not a he.”

Her large brown eyes met mine.  “Oh,” she said, now blushing and turning away.  “I’ve never been around big animals, Joe.  You’re talking to a city girl who knows nothing about such things.”

I squeezed my hand tighter against her shoulder and smiled.  “I’ll teach you everything you need to know; no need for worry.  What do I know about living in the city?  Nothing.  So we’re even, right?”  With a slight nod of her head, I hoped I’d said the right thing.

“Right,” she said.

“You ready?”

“You’re the expert.”

“That’s the spirit.”

I gave her a leg up, and Nellie didn’t move a muscle.  I handed her the reins and showed her how to hold them properly before I mounted Cochise.  “You won’t leave me alone, will you, Joe?”

“No,” I said, trying not to chuckle in front of her pale, fear-ridden face.  “I won’t be but a foot away from you at any given time.  I promise.”  After we’d circled the yard a couple of times, I pointed to the side of the barn.  “Let’s head that way.”

Ali was far from comfortable, and I tried to imagine how difficult this really was for a city girl.  While I’d sat a horse before I could walk, as did most boys here in the West, this was completely foreign, and patience was the key.

I took things slow and easy, knowing Nellie was the best mount we had for this type of situation.  She wouldn’t act up even though she could easily sense Ali’s nervous legs gripping tightly to her sides.  We moved toward the open meadow ahead, and as we walked side-by-side as slow as possible, I sensed she was becoming more relaxed.  She even shot me a smile and sat a bit taller in the saddle.

“If we go much farther, you’re bound to be sore tomorrow,” I said, after about an hour’s time.  We’d made a wide circle around the meadow, and heavy, black rain clouds were bearing down on us from the west.  This poor girl didn’t need to be caught in a storm on her first day out.

“I hate to go back, Joe.  This really isn’t so bad after all.”

“Believe me.  You won’t be saying that by nightfall.”

Raindrops began to fall; the dark, angry sky threatened more to come.  “Let’s pick up the pace.”  Ali’s smile vanished, and she gripped tightly to the pommel.  I pushed Cooch a touch faster, and Nellie followed in stride.  

Halfway to the house, the sky opened up, leaving us disadvantaged in an absolute downpour.  I grabbed Nelly’s reins and urged both mounts toward the barn.  “Stay put,” I shouted over the raging storm.  I jumped down to open the doors and then quickly led Nelly and Cooch inside.

When I reached up for Ali, she nearly fell into my outstretched arms.  “Oh, Joe, I was so frightened.”

“We’re safe now, although I’m sure Hoss will skin me alive for scaring you on your first day out.”

Because the temperature had fallen so fast and because we were soaked to the skin, Ali shivered and wrapped her arms around her heaving chest.  I couldn’t help catching sight of her sheer, white blouse, the outline of her camisole, and what lay beneath.  A loud clap of thunder caused her to jump, and a strong gust of wind blew both barn doors, crashing them loudly against the barn wall.

Startled, Ali pitched forward, wrapping both arms around my waist, and her head lay snug against my chest.  As her grip tightened, her utter closeness set alarm bells ringing in my head.  I was holding my brother’s fiancée in a very improper way.

“I’m afraid I’m not cut out for—”

“Hey,” I said softly, tilting her chin.  “It’s just a storm.  A little thunder and lightning.”

Before I realized what was happening, Ali’s slender hands had moved up my chest and around the back of my neck, and in a moment of weakness, I lowered my head to hers.  Her lips were soft and full, still moist with droplets of rain.  As she pulled me closer, I became caught up in a moment of passion.  The moment was over quickly, but trust between brothers had been broken. 

Suddenly, she was gone, running toward the house through the pouring rain.  I stood alone, searching my soul for reasons why.  Madness—complete madness.  God, why?  I slammed my fist against the stall, then cradled my throbbing hand to my chest.  The torn skin and immediate bruising revealed my anger, but traces of blood and ragged skin wouldn’t heal the mistake we’d just made.

For weeks, we’d been thrown together, back and forth from town, teasing, laughing, joking, but remaining friends, never giving a thought as to how close we’d become.  There was no excuse.  Hoss was my brother; more important, he trusted me as only a brother could.  

I remained in the barn, rubbing down both horses long after I had them fed and dry, and when I rested my face against the white blaze on Cooch’s soft muzzle, tears of shame and regret burned my eyes.  What happens now?  How do we erase such a foolish mistake?  How do we face each other … and Hoss?  Oh, God, Hoss.  I’d stalled long enough; taking this much time to stable two horses would set everyone wondering where I was.  So, like Ali, I ran through the pouring rain toward the house.

“What took you so long, Joseph?  I was beginning to worry,” Pa said after I’d closed the door behind me.

“Just trying to get the horses dry, Pa.”  I didn’t look up as I unfastened my gunbelt and hung my hat up to dry.

“Looks like you two got caught in the storm.  Ali raced through here so fast I didn’t get a chance to ask her how it went.”

“You mind if I change first, Pa.  I’m soaked clear through.”

“No—no—go ahead.  I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee.  Bring Ali down with you, son.  I’m sure she needs something hot to warm her, too.”

“Sure, Pa.”

I closed my bedroom door and leaned back with both hands still clutched to the brass knob.  Not only would we both have to sit with my father, but I would have to drive Ali back to town later on today.  My heart raced; an indirect reply to the disgust I felt.

I ripped off my wet clothes, throwing them haphazardly over the back of the chair, and changed into something dry.  Sensing Ali had done the same, I was forced to make an appearance, to stand up before my brother and act as though nothing had changed.  Reluctantly, I plastered a silly grin on my face and walked down the hall.  

Hoss was sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard, talking and laughing with his bride-to-be.  I felt a huge sense of relief, seeing how things hadn’t been destroyed by one small act of reckless, irrational behavior.  “Hey, little brother,” he called out when he looked up to see me leaning against his doorway.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Ali said you were a fine teacher, and she really had a good time until you both got caught in the rain.”

I nodded and forced another ridiculous smile.  “She did real well, Hoss.  Your girl’s a natural.”  Obviously, Ali had played her part well.  “Um … Pa’s making a fresh pot of coffee and said those of us who could make it downstairs should join him for a cup.”

“Funny, little brother—real funny.”

“Don’t worry.  I’ll bring her back,” I said.  “Might even bring you a cup if there’s any left.”

Ali turned my way, showing signs of guilt written clearly across her face.  The look of remorse in her large, brown eyes made me turn my head away.  After leaning over and kissing Hoss, she whispered something I couldn’t hear.  He smiled, and she stood up and sailed through the door as though I wasn’t even there.  I followed her down the stairs, where Pa waited for us at the dining room table.  She took the chair across from mine, and Pa slid a cup and saucer to each of us.

“So tell me—how did the first lesson go?” he asked, looking first at me and then at Ali.  “I hope you two didn’t do anything you weren’t ready for.”

I cringed at his selection of words, but I spoke up first.  “She’s gonna be out ridin’ and ropin’ steers in no time, Pa.  Like I told Hoss, his girl’s a natural.”  I looked across the table and realized I’d made her blush, but my mouth kept going.  “It’s true.  Another couple of lessons and no telling what she can do.”

“Sounds like you accomplished more than you planned today,” Pa said, smiling.

I caught Ali’s eye but quickly turned back to my father.  Yeah, Pa, we accomplished a whole lot, if you only had a clue.  At this point, I certainly wasn’t anxious to continue with more riding lessons.

“Oh wait,” Pa said.  “Hop Sing baked a chocolate cake before he left for San Francisco.  Why don’t I cut us each a slice before we tell Hoss it’s here?”

Pa was out of his chair and into the kitchen before I could get a word in edgewise.  If Ali’s stomach was as nervous as mine, cake was the last thing either of us wanted.  I kept my eyes fixed on her, and she did the same with me.  God forgive me, but I felt drawn to her in a most improper way, and I quickly shook any thoughts of continuance from my mind.  What was done was done.  It was over.

It wasn’t safe to talk while my father was still within earshot.  I’d wait until we were alone.  We’d settle things for good, and life would proceed, as it should; never again would either of us fall prey to each other’s wants or needs.  Never again would we sink so low as to break my brother’s heart.

We muddled through some of our cake and a second cup of coffee, and, as much as Pa tried to carry on a conversation, it fell flat.  “Hoss is going to think I got lost down here,” Ali said, if only to break the silence.  “I’m going to take him a big slice of chocolate cake.  That should please him, don’t you think?”

She was off to the kitchen, not really needing an answer, although Pa nodded his head in approval and then leaned back in his chair.  He lit his pipe and tilted his head upward, letting blue, spiraling smoke pass his lips.  For Pa, his world was complete with a soon-to-be daughter-in-law and hopefully a passel of grandchildren running through the house and bouncing on his lap.  A son finally married, a long-awaited dream come true.

After Ali left to sit with Hoss, Pa challenged me to a game of chess.  I agreed, and we moved across the room to the chessboard, but my mind was miles away, and so was my common sense.  I made my initial move with my bruised and swollen hand.  Pa looked at me strangely, then asked,  “What on earth?”

“It’s nothin’.  Just a scrape is all.”

“Maybe you should—”

“It’s nothin’, Pa.”

A game, which could last for hours, ended before it began.  After capturing both knights, my bishop and queen, Pa called checkmate.  “Something bothering you, son?  Your mind certainly isn’t on this game.”

“Me?  No.  Just thinking, I probably ought to get Ali back home now that the rain has let up.”

“I suppose you’re right.  Let me go up this time.  I’ll see what the lovebirds are up to.”

“I’ll go hitch the buggy.”

Even though it was summer, the rain had cooled the air, and Ali, who had changed back into her Sunday best, would need something warm around her.  I grabbed a blanket from the sideboard, and when Pa and Ali approached, I stopped cold.

“I’m going to leave my wet clothes here for now if that’s all right, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Oh, no problem, Ali,” Pa said.  “You know I’ve been thinking.”  His tone was light as he took her hands in his.  “Since you’re only a formality away from being part of this family, I think this whole Mr. Cartwright business needs to be remedied.  I really wish you would call me Ben.”

“I’d love to … Ben, but it will take a bit of getting used to,” she said, looking up at my father.

Pa leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.  “You’re everything I’d ever hoped for.  You make my son very happy.”  Pa glanced up at me.  As I leaned against the front door, I wondered how Ali could carry on a simple conversation when every nerve in my body pulsed faster than a galloping horse.  “She makes all of us very happy, doesn’t she, Joseph?”

I had to clear my throat.  “Yes, she does.”

“Well, you two better get going; the roads are going to be rough.  Joseph, not too fast now.”

“Yessir.”

“Thought you might need this,” I said, handing Ali the blanket after helping her into the buggy.  I slapped leather against the horse’s rump as Ali turned and waved to Pa, and by the time we’d cleared the barn, she’d already secured the blanket around her shoulders and across her lap.  

Pa was right; it was slow going.  The rain had left deep ruts, fallen branches, and plenty of pools of water.  But missing from the ride altogether were the laughter and fun times we’d shared over the past weeks, and an eerie silence prevailed.  Eventually, we’d have to talk.

I slowed the buggy and pulled to a stop on the side of the road.  I couldn’t wait any longer to say what was on my mind.  I was nervous, and I didn’t know if the words would come out right or not, but they had to be said.

“I want to apologize, Ali.  Believe me, this will never happen again.  I’ve hurt you, and I’ve hurt my brother.  I can’t take today back, but I can assure you nothing like that scene in the barn will ever happen again.”

I gripped so tightly to the reins as I rendered my speech, my knuckles showed white.  Ali reached for my swollen and scraped hand.  “Because of me?”  I didn’t look up.  “You don’t understand,” she said

“What’s there to understand?”  I’d said what was needed, I apologized, and I thought the conversation was over. 

“You’re not to blame.”

“No?”  I nearly laughed.  “I should have had more sense.”

“Things like this don’t make sense, Joe.  They just are.”

“Are what, Ali?  What are you trying to say?”  My God.  I tried to make things right, make this nightmare go away, and she was talking in circles.  “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Yes, you do, Joe.  We both wanted—”

“No.  You don’t mean that.  You’re not thinking straight.”

“I do mean it, Joe.  That’s what makes this so hard.”

I pulled my hand away and slapped the reins.  Three lives were at stake, three lives that could easily be damaged beyond repair.

~~~

The house was dark, and Ali asked me to walk her to the door.  On any other night, I would have been a courteous gentleman, but tonight, I just wanted to get the hell away.  She fumbled for the key and eventually turned the lock.  “Wait here.”  She entered the house, and with my back to the door, I waited until she’d lit the lamp.  

“Joe?”

I didn’t want to talk.  I’d said my piece, and I was done debating the issue.  “What about tomorrow?”  I said, turning back to Ali.  “You still want me to come for you in the morning?”  

“Please, Joe.  Come in so we can talk.”

“I don’t think that’s a good—”

“Please …”

Ali was my brother’s fiancée, and at this point, I didn’t trust myself to be alone with her.  The riding lessons would be hard enough, and I was truly afraid to walk through the door. 

“Coffee?”

“No, I won’t be staying.”

“Will you stay long enough for me to explain?”

My frustration grew.  “Ali, there’s nothing to explain.  We made a stupid mistake, and it’s over.”

Ali took a step toward me.  “I love your brother.  He’s the kindest, sweetest man I’ve ever known.”

With that said, my nerves began to settle, and I could actually breathe and stop fidgeting with the rim of my hat.  I’d seen the way she looked at Hoss; we all did, with eyes that would melt his heart, and with a gentle touch of her hand, Hoss’s smile could light up a room. 

Ali moved toward her sideboard and poured us each a shot of whiskey.  She handed me a glass, and while she chose to sip, I downed mine quickly.  I settled my hat on my head and started for the door.

“Joe?  There is one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“As much as I love Hoss, I’ve fallen in love with you.”

 The scowl on my face should have said it all, but Ali wasn’t finished, and I was fool enough to stay.  Nothing good could come from what she’d just said.  It was out in the open now and could only get worse if I didn’t stay strong.  I couldn’t deny I had certain feelings for her, but they were of friendship, a sense of family, not the kind of love she was referring to.

“These past few—“

“Don’t say anymore, Ali.  You love Hoss, and you’ll be married in just a few short weeks.  Please don’t make this any worse than it already is.”

“I can’t marry Hoss now.”

“Why?”  My voice was shrill like a jaybird.  Damn if everything wasn’t falling apart.

“I can’t,” she said.  “It wouldn’t be right.  I didn’t mean life to turn out this way, so you tell me.  How do I hide my true feelings if I marry your brother?”

The small room with too much furniture and too many useless trinkets became overwarm as walls closed in, and I felt trapped in a nightmare with no end in sight.  “So what happens now?  What are you going to tell my brother?  I’m in love with Joe, and I don’t love you anymore.  Is that it, Ali?  Is that what you plan to tell Hoss?”

“I don’t know.  I didn’t mean for—“

“There is no us, Ali.”

I’d searched my soul for answers since I’d made the mistake of taking her in my arms, of letting my own feelings show when I knew how wrong my actions were.  I did the unthinkable, and we’d all pay the price for that one small but gigantic error in judgment.

“Do you love me?”

“It doesn’t matter, Ali.  Don’t you see?”

“But it does matter.”

“I have to go.”

“You can’t walk away from me.  Please, Joe.”

As she said those words, my mind cried out with contempt.  But the forbidden apple tugged at my heart, and the man inside fought with everything he had.  I sensed her standing behind me; and I suddenly became a scared little boy, frozen in time and space.  Static filled the air; the storm was gathering momentum.  Slowly, her hands crossed my hips and for an instant, I longed for her touch, for our lips to meet.

“No.”  A sudden whirlwind of anger took hold.  “It all stops here.  I’m sorry, Ali.  We can never be.”

~~~

“Candy—” Ben called when the foreman strolled through the front door. 

Since taking over the morning chores, sitting down for a decent breakfast usually slipped by the wayside.  And since Hoss had left the Ponderosa, Candy, and Pa had taken it upon themselves to keep things running as smoothly as possible, knowing neglect and poor management could force the ruin of any ranch.

“Yes, sir,” he said, rounding the grandfather clock to stand next to Ben’s desk.

“I’d like you to pick out two good men.  I think they can finish the count today, don’t you?”

“Oh, no problem, Mr. Cartwright.”

“I’d also like you to stay here this morning.  I … well, I need a favor.”

“Whatever you need, I’m your man.”

“It may not be that simple.”

“Oh?” 

It had to be Joe.  Nothing else brought this amount of concern to the elder Cartwright.  Secrets had been kept and lies had been told for Joe’s benefit and for Mr. Cartwright’s.  What Joe didn’t realize was how his father was spiraling down this dirty little path with him, taking years from the old man’s life every time Joe rode into town and failed to make an appearance till noon the next day.

Ben stood from his desk and walked around to meet Candy face-to-face.  “Joe didn’t make it home last night, and I—“

Candy raised his hand, cutting Ben off mid-sentence.  “I’m on my way, as soon as I talk to the men and get them on their way.”

“Thanks, Candy.  I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this … under your hat.”

“I always do. Mr. Cartwright.”

After dismissing the ranch hands, Candy saddled his mount and started down the road toward Virginia City, keeping alert for any signs along the way.  He saw no evidence of Joe on his ride into town, and the first person he encountered was Roy Coffee as he cantered his way down C Street.

“Candy—” Roy called out, raising his hand to the foreman.  “A little early to be in town ain’t it?”

“Oh, just an errand for Mr. Cartwright, Sheriff.”  His plan was to collect information without giving anything away, as Ben had asked.  If Joe was in Roy’s cell or if there had been any kind of ruckus in the saloon, Roy would be the first to let him know, and if not, no one would be the wiser.  “Anything new in town?”

“Not much, just makin’ my mornin’ rounds.  Saw Little Joe last night.”  Candy nodded, and the sheriff continued.  “Any word from Hoss?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Well, tell Ben I miss our cribbage games and to get hisself to see me when he can.  Tell him I’ll even spring for a beer,” Roy said, smiling up at Candy.

“I’ll do that, Sheriff.”

Candy tipped his hat and rode to the far end of town, thinking he’d check the livery, and after seeing no sign of the pinto, he backtracked down C Street, then turned his mount back toward the Ponderosa.  He rode faster this time, knowing Joe must have started home at some point last night.  Retracing his steps, he studied for clues along the way.

Whether Ben Cartwright knew it or not, every hand on the Ponderosa and half of Virginia City knew about the gradual decline of a once proud and caring man.  Candy had watched Joe sink deeper and deeper, lost in a world he’d created—a world he tried to block from his mind.  A rather vain man who had taken pride in his appearance no longer cared.  A man who worked harder than anyone else on his father’s ranch couldn’t put in a full day’s work any longer.  

When this whole fiasco began, Candy had tried to dissuade the situation with light-hearted comments and casual conversation, but any words of comfort fell by the wayside.  “It’s my problem, and I’ll work it out in my own way and in my own time,” Joe had said.  His way was killing him; a slow and miserable death, and what made it unbearable to watch was how his descent into a bottle of whiskey was killing his father, too.

Ben was proud of all his sons, but as Candy had observed over the past few months, the family of strong, proud men was folding in on itself.  Ben’s genuine love of life had gone missing.  He’d become withdrawn and at times careless when it came to ranch business.  The ranch was still holding its own, but it wouldn’t take much for the entire operation to collapse, leaving a man who once held such pride alone and withered.  A man, whose legacy meant everything, was beginning to falter.

Candy relinquished those thoughts as he pulled rein at a Y in the road.  One way led to the Ponderosa; the other led south toward Carson.  Cochise knew the way without any help from his rider, and Joe could always count on his mount to carry him home safely no matter what condition he was in.  So, if Joe chose a different path, it was intentional.

And that’s the road Candy followed; the road that led away.

~~~

The sound of soft snoring caused me to turn my head and open my eyes.  There sat my father, his head resting on his hand, his elbow propped on the arm of the chair.  My bedroom was dark except for a few lighter shadows spiking on the walls by a low-burning lamp.  My clothing had been stripped away, and a nightshirt had taken its place.

I fixed my eyes back on Pa; how miserable his life had become.  Even in sleep, deep lines creased his forehead.  Because of my selfish behavior, I’d destroyed the bond we’d shared since the day I was born; an inner connection I held dear in my heart was now broken.  I’d burned all my bridges, leaving a shattered family to rise from the ashes.  There was no turning back; life would never be the same.

I closed my eyes, hoping sleep might bring back memories of good times.  A time when our family was whole, when laughter prevailed, and where my brother was content, living on the land he loved.  Although I knew better, I’d only dream of the chaos I’d brought to this family.  I was so tired . . .

~~~

Monday morning came early, and, as I’d done for weeks, I drove in to pick up Ali.  Questions would be raised if I didn’t continue the routine we’d started long ago.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she said, walking toward the buggy.

I held her hand as she climbed in beside me just like I’d always done before, but of course, today was different.  Overnight, our lives had changed.  She rested her hands in her lap and looked straight ahead until we were out of town and out of sight of onlookers’ prying eyes.  We both spoke at the same time, and I nodded for her to go ahead.

“What happens now, Joe?” she said, after turning to face me.

“Nothing,” I was quick to reply.  “Nothing at all.”  I knew the correct response, and it was the only answer that made any sense.  Her eyes faced forward again, even though the conversation had only begun.

“I can’t pretend, Joe.  It’s not fair to Hoss to keep—“

I jerked the horses to a stop and turned to face her, but the words, which should have come easy, stayed trapped inside.  How could I force her to love my brother?  His whole life lay before him, and Ali was a major player in that life.  And what exactly were my own feelings?  Was that the real reason I couldn’t press forward, couldn’t find the words I needed to say?  For God’s sake, I had to try.

“We can’t be together,” I said.  “It would never work, and you know that.”

Ali looked at me as though I’d plunged a slender stiletto straight through her heart.  Tears formed in her eyes, and God help me, but I’d fallen in love with this woman.  Life had played a cruel and unforgiving joke on all three of us, and if I took the next step, our lives would change forever.  I couldn’t let that happen.

I took Ali’s hand in mine.  “You have to tell him something, anything.  Tell him you’re going away.  Tell him—”

Her head fell against my chest; tears stained my shirt.  Surely, she would keep my name out of it, but she had to tell Hoss it was over.  She couldn’t pretend that there was nothing left.  He would be hurt, but in time, the love he felt would pass.  If he found out the reason why, it would destroy him.  It would destroy us all.

It was all I could do not to lie Ali down on the seat, pull up her skirts, and sink myself inside.  Our feelings had surfaced; the lust, the sudden desire between a man and a woman, daring me to take the next step, to satisfy the overpowering passion that burned between us.

The tiniest whimper; the sound of her girlish voice weakened my constitution.  I’d become aroused, hard, and straining against my trousers.  I reached for her, running the back of my hand slowly across her breast, appreciating its contour imprisoned behind a pale, green blouse.  With a subtle moan of pleasure, her hand pressed against mine before unfastening the small, pearl buttons and allowing me access.  Her body trembled with eagerness and impatience, but I finally came to my senses.  I pulled back.  “We can’t,” I said.  “I’m sorry.  We just can’t.”

Clearly humiliated, she stared at me with flushed cheeks and tear-filled eyes.  She fastened her gaping blouse and busied herself straightening the folds of her skirt.  Her eyes faced forward; no words were spoken.  When I pulled up in front of the house, neither of us moved from our seats.  Again, I repeated an apology.  “I’m sorry.”  They were only words, and they meant nothing now.  They’d come too late for either of us.  I remained seated as Ali climbed down from the buggy, and with her head held high she walked toward the house. 

While she sat with Hoss, Candy and I had a full day’s work ahead.  Work became a godsend; the perfect solution to occupy my mind, to prevent me from thinking, and God knows, I didn’t need time to think.

~~~

Candy and I worked well together, just as Hoss and I had in the past.  There was laughter and storytelling, usually stories my father preferred not to hear, but try as I might, repairing broken fence didn’t come easy when my mind retreated to a faraway place.  It was obvious to Candy that I was lost in another world and struggling to keep my temper in check when things didn’t go just right.  My mind was full of questions.  Was she telling Hoss now, or would she wait until the end of the day?  How would she break the news, and what excuse would she give?

“Ready for lunch?”

“Huh?”  I said, barely catching the words.

“Lunch?” he repeated.  “Don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

We sat on the tail of the wagon and pulled out sandwiches we’d brought from home.  “Should finish this up pretty soon, don’t you think?  Joe?”

“Huh?”

“What’s the matter with you?  You’ve been off-kilter all day?”

“Sorry, just some loose ends to tie up.  Guess my mind’s not really on work.”

“So, you meet a new girl?  Some pretty little blonde pulls into town on the stage and falls madly in love with you at first sight?  A brunette?  A fiery redhead?”

I wish he were kidding.  Ali was beautiful and even fiery, although without the red hair, but definitely not new in town.  She was my brother’s fiancée.  Should I tell him that?  Should I give away secrets that destroyed lives?  “No,” I said.  “No new girl.”  At least that part wasn’t a lie.

We worked the rest of the afternoon, then climbed in the wagon, tired and knowing we’d have to return to finish the job tomorrow.  “I’ll put up the team,” Candy said.  I didn’t argue; I walked to the house. 

“Is that you, Joe?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Pa.”

I hung up my gunbelt and hat and flopped down in a chair in front of my father’s desk.  My mind drifted to the numerous times I’d sat in this very same chair as a kid, listening to a lecture on what I’d done wrong and why I needed to be punished.  We’d head to the barn together, and Pa would pull his belt slowly through the loops of his pants.  A few good whacks and the punishment was over and forgotten.  If problems could be solved that easy now, I’d loosen Pa’s belt myself.

“Joseph?”  I looked up at my father, who had leaned forward with his elbows resting on his desk.  “Something bothering you, son?”

“Oh—sorry.  I’m just tired.”

“You and Candy finish up today?”

“I wish,” I said.  “We’ll have to go back tomorrow, should only take a couple of hours at most.”

“We had good news today,” Pa said, reaching into his vest pocket for a match.

“Yeah?”  Good news might lift my spirits.  Not much else would.

“Paul was out and said your brother could get out of bed.  He can’t take the cast off just yet, but at least Hoss can move around now and start getting his strength back.”

“That’s real good news, Pa.”  I started to stand, but Pa wasn’t quite finished talking.

“Ali seemed a bit preoccupied.”

“Ali?”

“Yes, Ali.”  I gave Pa a look I don’t think he appreciated.  “Do you know what’s troubling her?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you?”  A lilt of frustration was clear in my father’s voice.

“How would I know?  You need to ask her, not me.  You’re the one who knows women.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but why so defensive, Joseph?  I just thought she might have said something while you were driving out this morning.”

“Nope.  She didn’t say anything to me.” 

At least nothing I can repeat.  I needed to stay calm, to watch my words and my actions.  The idea was to keep things as normal as possible before Pa suspected anything out of the ordinary.  No one caught on faster than my father, and he’d be the first to realize, as Candy said earlier, something was off-kilter.

“You want some coffee or something to eat before you drive back to town?”

“No, but I’ll hitch the team if you’ll tell Ali I’m ready.”

It was bad enough I would have to sit next to her; the two of us draped in silence, but I couldn’t face Hoss, not after she’d told him there’d be no wedding.  The joy he must have felt after the doc was here and now, his heart was breaking into.

Pa stood and clapped me on the shoulder.  “It’s awfully good of you to do this for your brother after a full day’s work, Joseph.  I know Hoss and Ali appreciate everything you’ve done for them.”  I nodded, forming a tight-lipped smile, but quickly turned away, leaving the room and making a beeline for the barn.

After we’d driven a mile or so from the house, I finally had to ask.  Ali had come out to the barn to meet me, but she hadn’t said a word.  I thought she’d want to explain how it went with Hoss or at least some of the details.  “Well?”  I asked, slowing the team so we could talk.

She shook her head.  “I couldn’t tell him, Joe.”

“Why?”  I whined like a little kid.  “You can’t put this off, Ali.  The longer you wait—”

Her hands fidgeted nervously with the pleats of her skirt.  “The doctor came out today and, well, he was so excited to hear the news, and I didn’t have the heart to hurt him.”

“Tomorrow then.  You have to tell him tomorrow.  He has to know the truth.”

“The truth?  Joe, I couldn’t.”

“That’s not what I meant exactly, but he has to know you’re leaving, that you can’t marry him, that it’s over between you two.”

“Maybe you could—”

“No.  It has to come from you.  Hoss deserves that much.”

We rode in silence; the days of laughter were over, and we’d become overnight strangers.  So, when I stopped in front of her house, neither of us knew quite what to do.  Ali sat perfectly still until I jumped down to give her a hand, but as her hand lingered in mine, I feared some passersby might take notice and make quick judgment of their own.  We were in direct eyesight of anyone who’d be keen on spreading malicious gossip, especially about a Cartwright.

“Please come in, Joe.”

“Ali . . .“

With fear of being noticed as we stood in plain sight, I tied the horse to the rail and followed Ali inside.  Instead of putting on a pot of coffee, she reached inside a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of scotch.  

I stood in the presence of danger, weak-kneed and afraid.  As we each held our glasses but failed to drink, I stared at the woman before me.  Deep brown eyes stared back, and I leaned forward and touched my hand to the side of her face.  “You’re a very beautiful woman.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she reached for my glass.  Time stood still as I slipped my hand around the nape of her neck and drew her tight against my chest.  We were in a world behind closed doors, where I found myself captivated by a woman I could never have, a woman who belonged to another.  But as my lips met hers, the moment I crossed the line and carried her up the stairs, I’d taken that initial step, the step which would lead to the destruction of Joe Cartwright.

~~~

I’d fallen in love with Allison Parker, and she’d fallen in love with me.  As days and nights passed, after our evenings of passion and promises, I found any excuse to be close to the woman who’d captured my heart. 

We worked diligently at keeping our affair hidden from family or prying eyes.  Ali’s home had become a lover’s paradise where, behind closed doors, we were free to entertain our passionate desires.  Since no one could ever know, we played our parts well, like actors performing on stage.

Our time spent together proved exceptional.  There were evenings we made love, passionate, forbidden love, and there were nights we laughed hysterically at ridiculous comments only the two of us understood.  We didn’t want or need anyone else in our lives, which, in reality, was nothing but a fantasy world where only Ali and I existed.  Our world was private, never brought to the attention of others.

Ali said I was her first, and I was willing and perfectly satisfied to take things slow and let our love evolve as nature took its course.  And, with gentle coaxing on my part, she soon fulfilled every sexual desire.  As time progressed, and as our passion soared to new heights, it became impossible for us to remain apart.

During the weeks that followed, I kept up with Ali’s riding lessons, which led us to a small hidden meadow where we could be alone and away from the one person who trusted us most.  But Hoss was on the mend.  The cast had come off, and he was allowed simple chores.  The end was coming soon.

We’d each perfected our skills, although Ali was a much better actor than I.  Lies were told to protect the innocent, but we were nearing the first of August, and she had yet to call off the wedding.  “Tomorrow,” she’d say, but tomorrow never came.

~~~

Like I’d done the entire summer, I drove Ali home, but I’d said goodbye at the door since we’d already taken advantage of our afternoon, using riding lessons as an excuse, after all, a night spent at home was necessary now and again.  She’d told Hoss she wouldn’t be out the next day, mentioning errands and generally catching up on her own chores, which had piled up over time.

When morning came and Pa planned a trip to Virginia City to send a wire to an acquaintance, concerning the price of a new bull, I jumped at the chance to take his place, although a bit more enthusiastically than necessary.  “I’ll send the wire, Pa.”

“What?  Oh, Joe, I appreciate the offer, but you deserve a day off.  You’ve been driving back and forth from town every day for weeks.”

“Then I won’t have any trouble finding my way.”

“Well, if you’re sure, I have plenty to keep me busy here.  Of course, I could send Hoss.”

“I’ll go,” I said casually.  “Be home by noon.”

I grabbed the missive, and I was out the front door.  If I rode quickly, if I wasted no time, I’d have an hour or better to spare.  So after racing into town and sending the wire off first, I fell straight into the arms of the woman I loved.

Our meeting was unplanned, and Ali’s chores and errands were quickly held over for another day.  We played like children, ripping at each other’s clothes as we made our way up the stairs.  A sweet scent of lavender filled the air due to her freshly washed hair, still damp, and I pictured a tub filled with bubbles and my lady wearing nothing at all.

With her breasts released from the confines of layers of clothing, she pulled off my shirt and tossed it over the banister as we giggled and teased until we fell onto her upstairs bed, rolling with pleasure at this unexpected meeting of body and soul.  When our time together was over, I needed to return home for an afternoon of chores on the ranch.  As I reached for my pants and boots, I remembered my shirt hadn’t made it to the bedroom.  Ali slipped into her clothes and, with one final kiss, it was time I was on my way.

“God knows where my shirt ended up,” I joked, remembering how quickly and playfully she’d slid it over my head, never bothering with buttons, before tossing it over her shoulder.

“I prefer you much better without, so don’t be in such a hurry to put it back on.”

“I don’t think the good citizens of Virginia City would appreciate seeing me half-naked when I leave this house.”

“Oh, but think of how much fun they’d have.  The bluebloods would be talking for days on end.  That crazy Joe Cartwright.  Just who does he think he is, parading around town in his birthday suit?”

After I pointed to my shirt, which had draped over a single candlestick on the dining room table, I rolled my eyes and stole another kiss as we ran down the stairs, laughing like children.  But, without warning, my life flashed before my eyes, stealing my breath, and I quickly pushed Ali behind me.  Three men stood just inside the front door.  Three filthy men dressed in tattered, ill-fitting clothing held guns at waist level.

“What’s this all about?”  I demanded, finding my voice, cracking, dry as desert sand.  Most likely a robbery, but Ali had nothing, and me, I had about $40.00 in my shirt pocket.  One of the men stepped forward while the two larger men closed and blocked the door.   

“Tell him.  Tell this man of yours why I’m here.”  Ali trembled with fear, but she chose not to speak a word.  “Cat got your tongue?  Afraid of me?  Well, you should be, you goddamn whore.”

I was living a nightmare, and the odds weren’t in my favor.  “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Step away from the woman, and we’ll discuss this man-to-man.”

“Not till you tell me what this is about.”  I tried to show bravado, but my knees were shaking and my heart pounded as if the wind had been knocked out of me already.

“You’re fucking my wife, mister-whoever-you-are.  Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

When the man took a step closer, I glanced at my gunbelt halfway across the room.  No way could I take on all three and come out ahead in the game, so I remained calm and tight-lipped, trying to come up with a decent plan. 

None of the men were familiar, and none of them knew my name.  Two issues prevailed: staying alive and leaving no sign I’d ever been here today.  I studied the men closely, keeping Ali behind me when her so-called husband took another step forward.

I leaped on top of him, sending his gun flying across the wooden floor.  I swung hard and fast and when he went down, I pulled him to his feet before letting loose on his face and chest.  He fell to his hands and knees, panting and forcing much-needed air into his lungs.  But suddenly, I was grabbed from behind, my arms held tightly by the other two gunmen.

When the man rose to full height, he took two ragged breaths before he turned his shoulder and circled his arm in roundhouse fashion, plowing deep into my gut.  I felt every blow as he wheeled his fists, one after the other, forcing my head back and forth with no chance to recover, leaving me bloody and nearly unconscious.

“No!”  Ali screamed.  “That’s enough.  I’ll leave with you.”

Not able to stand on my own, I was released only to fall to the floor, my body lifeless and my face battered and raw.  When I found the strength, I reached for the banister, determined to pull myself up off the floor.  An explosion of gunfire and the sudden impact of a bullet skimming across my arm spun me backward against the bottom step.  I gripped my shoulder; Ali knelt down beside me.

“Forgive me.  Oh, God, please forgive me.”  Her words floated through me like church bells, interrupting the thunder fueling its way through my head.  Her hand touched my face, “I love you,” until she was wrenched away from my side. 

I tried to move forward, my breath hitching between clenched teeth.  A second explosion knocked me back against the stairs.  My leg was on fire.  I curled, bending in half and placing one hand over the other to stop the flow of blood then fell from the step, unmoving.

~~~

When I woke, shadows moved only marginally where diminished light existed, leaving images distorted and yet yielding to unmovable objects.  Where words were spoken but seemed foreign and unclear, and so I remained motionless, drifting in and out as my mind searched for a position without pain.

“He’s coming to.”

“Joseph?”

Pa.

“Joe—can you hear me, son?”

I’m right here, Pa. 

The struggle to lift my eyelids left me too tired to speak.  I was being tested by severe intervals of pain, and I fought to return to that peaceful existence where constant misery faded into a glorious abyss.  “Pa?”  My lips formed the word, but with the absence of sound.  My father’s grip tightened around my wrist, assuring me he was close by.

“You’re at Doctor Martin’s, son.  You’re going to be all right.  He’s got you all patched up, and all you need to do now is lie still and rest.”  Pa straightened the bed sheet across my chest, and I took comfort in his presence.  Then, memories flashed:  Ali, men, guns ..

“No,” I mumbled.  “No, Pa.”.

“Son.  Take it easy.  No one here will hurt you.”

Oh, God.  Did he know?  Did he find me at Ali’s?  Did the doc?  “No … Hoss.  Don’t—“

“Easy.  That’s enough, Joseph.  Lie still.”

Why was I still alive, and at what cost?  What price would we all have to pay?  The day’s events forced their way through my mind: the beating, the shots, Ali being dragged out of the house.  I searched my mind for her final words.  Regret?  Sorrow?  What had she said? 

Chair legs scraped the wooden floor as my father settled in for the night.  No matter what I’d done or mess I’d made of our lives, Pa was there to see me through.  The doctor would poke and prod, and my father would hang on every word until the threat of danger had passed.  I would tell my side of the story, answer any and all questions before the sun rose in the morning.  I would beg for forgiveness, but in my heart, I knew it could never be given. 

At some point, I would have to face Hoss, and that unspoken trust between brothers would be forever lost.  I’d broken every rule, and Hoss … oh, God, how could he ever trust me again?  The despair, the lost opportunity of life with his new bride forever taken away because of what I’d done.

Ali was not to blame.  Our love went both ways, and when all was said and done, how could I fault the time we’d had together, a love that provided joy and laughter, a love I would always cherish.  Yes, I betrayed my brother, and yes, I would pay dearly for my decision, and God, I would give the world to have Ali remain a part of my life.

As morning light filtered through the window, my father slept while I studied the deep-set lines in his face.  I’m the one who’s to blame, Pa; I’m the one who’s at fault.  I’d said those words many times over, but never to my father.  He would carry the weight of both sons, my indiscretion, the heartache, and the promise of my brother’s lost future. 

Upon returning home, I would be confined to bed, spending countless days, maybe weeks, recovering from the damage done to my leg.  It hadn’t been a clean shot with an exit wound.  I was shot at close range, serious enough that infection from the gaping wound was always a major concern.  The bullet had cracked the bone, and it took hours of Doc’s surgical skills to repair torn muscle and seared flesh just so I’d be able to stand on both feet again. 

My shoulder suffered no more than a burn, and the cuts and bruises would fade with time, but we’d all be forced to live under the same roof, Pa and my brother, and me.  I hadn’t seen Hoss, although I can’t say I was surprised by his choice to stay away.

Tears filled my eyes as I considered the rough days ahead.  Not the physical healing; I’d survived gunshot wounds before, but how would we survive as a family?  I feared the worst was yet to come.

~~~

Days later, I was sent home; the healing process seemed deliberately slow.  First, I was confined to bed for nearly ten days, then, after the reduction of infection and bouts of fever, the leg was finally cast.  I don’t remember much about those first few days.  My memory fades in and out, tying fantasy and real life together, dreams and reality become a mixed blessing.

I hobbled around on crutches, nearly killing myself in the process, or maybe that was my intention since nothing else really seemed to matter.  Finally, the use of a cane helped steady the leg that, after all this time, still couldn’t handle my weight.  Pa was sympathetic to my injuries, although that’s as far as our relationship went.  Hop Sing brought meals upstairs so I could dine alone.  I preferred it that way.  Hoss had never once come to my room.

At times, Candy ventured upstairs for a game of checkers or to go over assignments he’d given the men, even though my opinion meant nothing.  Pa was back in charge of ranch operations.  My days of being an asset to running the ranch had come to an abrupt end, and with me laid up, he’d had no choice but to step in and take my place.

By the time I became proficient with the cane and was leaving my room to join the living, Hoss had left the ranch.  A brief letter stating he needed time to himself had been left on Pa’s desk.  The answer was crystal clear.  Hoss couldn’t stand the sight of me.  I understood why time alone appealed to him, but it should have been me who walked away, not my brother.

I barely existed in my father’s world, so the next best thing was to keep my distance.  Three grown sons to take over the ranch had been my father’s dream, and now that dream had been crushed.  Pa was left alone, his legacy crumbling before his eyes. 

When I was able to sit a horse, I spent most of my non-working hours in town, anywhere other than home.  This night was different, and I’d taken an alternate route.  Home was no longer an option.  I veered off the preferred road, longing to shelter myself from memories.  My life was a sham, and by breaking all the rules, I’d driven the family apart.  But my escape was short-lived when Candy found me, cowering in a ditch alongside the road.  Shivering and barely breathing, he loaded me on his horse and once again dragged me back home.

~~~

“Good morning,” Pa said when he entered my room.

My head ached, and my body felt burdened under layers of bedclothes I didn’t normally wear.  I remembered the cold, the sudden onset of a fast-moving blizzard, and the way I’d curled into myself to stay warm.  Slowly, I pushed myself up, feeling a catch in my side before leaning back gently against the headboard.  Focusing on Pa was harder than it should have been, and I rubbed my eyes and ran my hand through my tangled hair.

“Morning,” I said, then asked the same questions I’d asked many times before.  “What happened?  How’d I get home?”

Pa pulled a chair up next to the bed and settled in to talk.  “Candy found you along the road heading south.”

I nodded my head.  “Good old Candy.”

Pa seemed to be struggling with the right words to say, so he offered nothing.  He only stared.  Maybe he thought I could come up with answers to his unasked questions.  Memories of the night before began flooding my head.  Falling snow and a strong gust of wind carried my hat to the side of the road.  I slid off Cochise and immediately fell toward a ditch while chasing my damn hat. 

“My hat,” I mumbled, but Pa didn’t catch what I said.

“What?”

“The wind … I lost my hat.”

Pa nodded but asked for more of an explanation.  “Think you can eat something?” 

“Coffee.  Just coffee.”

Pa returned moments later with two steaming mugs.  He handed me one.  “Thanks.”  I held the cup with both hands; Pa returned to his chair.  We each sipped coffee in silence, a silence we had grown accustomed to over time.  “What time is it?”  I asked.

“Oh, about seven o’clock.”

“Candy gone yet, or is he waiting for me?”

“It’s Sunday, Joe.”

“Sunday?”

“I’m sensing you missed yesterday altogether.”

“You mean—”

I’d lost an entire day; I’d never let that happen before.  But as I held the heated cup, I watched the steam rise and realized life had taken a turn.  The whiskey was leaving black holes in my memory … although wasn’t that the point after all?

“Paul was here yesterday,” Pa said.

“Why was he here?”

My father leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs.  “When Candy found you, he figured you’d fallen from your horse and—”

“I lost my hat.  I got down to find my hat.”  For some reason, I needed to make that clear.  Did Pa think I was so far gone I’d fall off my own damn horse?  I found myself repeating, for the umpteenth time, my reasons for falling in the ditch.  “The wind blew my hat.”  

“Obviously, you fell at some point.”  Pa’s voice took on a bitter edge, and I nodded rather than arguing the point.  “There was no permanent damage as far as Paul could tell, only bruising around your rib cage.”

My father stood from the chair.  He moved toward my bedroom window, where his shoulders slumped forward after he’d placed his hand on the sill.  Pa was a broken man, a tired man, a man who had more to say and was trying to find the exact words to use.  After taking a final sip of coffee, he returned and sat down on the edge of my bed.  I immediately became concerned when the look on Pa’s face conveyed a look of fear.  A lump formed in my throat.  “Is it Hoss?”

“No,” he said, interlacing his fingers together with unease.  “Still no word from your brother.  What needs to be said concerns you.”

“I’m sorry, Pa.  I know I haven’t been pulling my weight, and I’ll—“ 

Pa shook his head.  Obviously, this wasn’t the issue.  With both hands, he gripped tightly to his empty cup and looked me straight in the eye.  “This is a bit more serious, son.”

“I’m fine, Pa.  Bruised ribs, remember?  I’ll be back to work in no time.”

“There’s more, Joseph.  The doctor doesn’t think you have much time left.  He said the amount of alcohol you’re consuming is doing severe damage to your insides.”  I started to object, but Pa held up his hand.  “If you stop drinking now, you have a chance at life.  If not, you’re going to die.”

Paul was wrong; he was overreacting.  “We’re all going to die, Pa.”

“Yes, but you’ll be the first.”

“I don’t understand.  I thought Doc gave me a clean bill of health.”

My father never took his eyes from mine as he continued.  “If you continue the way you’ve been going, if you choose to lose yourself every night in a bottle of whiskey, Paul doesn’t think you’ll live out the year.”

It took a minute for Pa’s words to sink in, but when they did, I knew for certain Paul was using scare tactics to somehow rein me in and end my nightly trips to town.  I’d hit the bottle hard, never worrying and never caring about the outcome of throwing the god-awful swill down my throat, but what if I’d guessed wrong?  What if Paul’s prediction was on the up and up?  Yes, there were days I preferred death to living another day.  I wanted to erase the memories that haunted my soul every waking hour.  But when tears glistened in my father’s eyes, a decision had to be made if not for my sake, for my father’s.  Maybe it was time to end the charade and choose whether to live or die.

“I can’t make any promises, Pa.”

“I only ask that you try.”

Pa reached out and squeezed my shoulder.  I nodded my head, accepting the challenge.  If my father thought I was worth saving, then maybe it was time I turned my life around.  I was the last son living on the Ponderosa; the only son Pa had left to keep his dream alive.  So much had changed; so much time and energy wasted on the wrong things.

Forgiveness is not absolute, but compassion is.  It would take time to heal, but maybe with time, the past wouldn’t matter, although I was kidding myself if I thought that was true.  I’d created this mess; I’d sent my brother running for greener pastures.  That in itself would always come between Pa and me.

But the simple touch of my father’s hand became a turning point.  For weeks, we’d lived as strangers—a word in passing, a longing stare—a final resignation cut deeply into my father’s eyes when he’d finally given up.  His entire world revolved around his sons and the land he’d worked for years to establish as one of the finest ranches anywhere.  His dream, his legacy, his entire world was crumbling before his eyes.

I didn’t know whether I had the strength to restore the man I used to be, to fight for the reputation I’d always known as Ben Cartwright’s son.  I was thirty years old, the only son, who, from a young age, had to prove himself, prove he could do the work his brothers took for granted.  I barely remembered what normal was.  A good night’s sleep, eating regular meals, and working a full day seemed foreign to me.

Pa had continued his trips to church every Sunday, although, since Hoss had left, he’d made the trip alone.  Today, he stayed home with me.  He excused himself from my room so we could both dress and meet downstairs for our first meal together in a very long time.  Even though I couldn’t eat much, as my body was still paying the price left by the vestiges of alcohol, for my father’s sake, I managed some of what was on my plate.

We took a long ride around the ranch, just the two of us.  Idle conversation wasn’t deemed necessary, but as we stared across the lake, the calm blue water, I felt at ease in the company of my father.  This land was all Pa had left; one son off to Europe, another, we didn’t know his whereabouts, and me, the disappointment.  Today, I didn’t feel like the disappointment.

~~~

Pa and I were home in time for supper.  Two days without a drink, and my stomach reacted to just the smell of roasting beef.  I excused myself before I became sick and headed upstairs to my room.  God, how I needed a drink—God, how a trip to town would relieve this constant torment—God, how the small, silver flask in my saddlebags called my name. 

I’m trying, Pa.  But was my best good enough; did I have the strength necessary to fight my own demons and dismiss the life I’d created?  I collapsed onto my bed and within minutes, I was back up, pacing back and forth like a crazed wildcat when I noticed Pa standing in my doorway. 

“I brought coffee.”

I wet my lips and steadied my shaking hand as I reached for the steaming cup.  I wanted to shout, to scream at the top of my lungs.  “This isn’t working, Pa.  A cup of coffee isn’t the magic cure.”  Of course, I refrained from announcing to the world how life was unfair, how rotten I felt, or that Pa’s challenge was never going to work.

I was a drunk, plain and simple.  I was a falling-down, dangerous drunk who chose this life just as my brothers had chosen theirs.  I couldn’t do this.  I didn’t have the strength like my virtuous father, who never made mistakes, who was strong and powerful.  I was the black sheep, the worthless son, and the son who failed in more ways than one.

My father was an extraordinary man.  The land had tested him over the years; fires caused by something as simple as lightning, years of drought, and years when snow was so deep, we’d lost half our herd.  Pa had weathered most anything thrown his way and prided himself by surviving desperate times. 

But the land meant nothing if his sons weren’t standing alongside him.  How many times had he said he’d give it all away and start over if it meant keeping his family together?  These past few weeks have been a new experience for my father, one he never expected, and one he never saw coming. 

I was reluctant to have Pa witness what was to come.  I’d had symptoms before; the bouts of shaking, nerves about to burst into a million pieces, the utter craving for that first drink of whiskey.  My father was strong, stronger still in his convictions, though he wasn’t naïve.  Maybe he knew what to expect more than I did.  Maybe he’d seen men fight the bottle, but how many of those men found a way out?  How many of those men would Pa call friends?  No, that wasn’t my father.  He had no use for men who’d lost control; men who gave up and wasted the life God gave them.

“What can I do to help?”

My body cried out for relief, but this was something I had to fight on my own, something Pa could do nothing about.  I was a grown man, though I wanted my father to wrap his arms around me and tell me tomorrow would be a better day, silly, but true.  I was alone.  The battle was mine to bear.

But even now, after what I’d done to this family, and as I began to struggle through the lowest point of my life, Pa was there.  With tender words and a true sense of compassion, Pa was willing to fight alongside me. 

“I’ll be okay,” I said after seeing the deep lines of concern on Pa’s face.  His eyes glistened with unshed tears, wanting to take away the pain.  “Takes a little time, is all.”

“Son?”

“No, Pa.  I’m fine.”

“Of course you are, but I wanted to … there’s something you should know.”

Pa’s words scared me.  His tone was different, sorrowful.  “Is it Hoss?”

“No.  It’s … well, it’s something I’ve never discussed with anyone.  Not Adam or Hoss or you.  But it may be time to set the record straight.  It may be time for you to learn a little something about your father.”

Pa knew how to set a man’s mind whirling.  Did I really want to know?  He made whatever the problem was sound so ominous, so out of character.  “Okay, if … I mean it’s not necessary, Pa.”

“Yes, it is, son.  Let’s find seats on the front porch.  I’d feel more comfortable there.”

“All right.”

Most of the ranch hands were gone for the day.  It was their day off, and Pa and I had the place pretty much to ourselves.  There were always men who remained, but they busied themselves playing cards or a game of checkers in the bunkhouse.  Occasionally, someone would step outside for a smoke or a drink from the pump, but they wouldn’t interfere with our private business, not on Sunday.

We settled ourselves in comfortable chairs.  The air was cool, and we’d both grabbed our jackets, but the sun’s warmth felt good on our faces.  The blizzard from the other night almost seemed like a dream.  The snow had already melted, and you could almost feel a touch of spring in the air.  I waited for Pa to speak.

“When your mother died, things changed, Joseph.  I changed.  I left the ranch; I left all you boys behind … in a way, it’s like Hoss has done now.”

“Pa, I really don’t want to talk about—“

“Be quiet, Joseph.”

“Yessir.”

Oh, God.  Had I known this was the topic of conversation, I would have feigned a headache.  Maybe feigned wasn’t the right word.  My head was already pounding.

“I rode away because I had to,” Pa said.  “I needed peace; I needed to be alone to ask how something like this could happen, how could my Marie be taken from me in such brutal fashion.  I talked to God, oh, I talked to God many times.  ‘Why?’  I asked.  ‘Why take my wife, why take everyone I loved away from me?’  Then, somewhere along the way, something changed.  I got mad, Joe.  Mad at God, mad at the world, mad at every living thing.”

“Pa—“

“I’m not finished.”

Pa was determined to finish this … I don’t know, this parallel of his life.  I knew exactly what was going through my brother’s mind.  He’d ridden out just like Pa and for the same reason.  Okay, maybe he was working for some rancher, I didn’t know, but I knew he was alone.  Hoss loved this place; he loved this family, even me.  But why was Pa drilling these comparisons into me as if I’d never thought twice about how Hoss felt and why he’d left home?

“As I was saying, I got mad.  Of course, we’ve often talked about that time, and I tried to smooth things over and make you understand why I had to go away, but that’s not the point I need to make.”

“Then what is the point, Pa?  Don’t you think my brother is on my mind every waking hour?”

“This isn’t about Hoss.  This is about me, Joe.  For nearly three months, I found solace in a bottle.  I didn’t care about anyone or anything, only myself.  I drank in saloons.  I drank as I rode my horse.  I drank next to my campfire at night.  I drank, Joseph.”

“Why . . . why did you stop?”

Pa shook his head.  “I wish I could lie and tell you I saw the light, that I turned a corner in my life and decided my sons were worth everything to me … which you are, but that’s not how it happened.  I became careless.”  Pa stopped to roll up his shirt sleeve just below his elbow.  He pointed to a scar.  “See this?”

I nodded.  I’d seen it before, but Pa always brushed me off, said it was nothing but an old scar.

“A gunfight in a bar.”

“You?”

“Yes, me, because someone hit my table and sent my bottle crashing to the floor.  At some point, I hit my head, maybe after I was shot, and didn’t remember much until the doctor in Genoa told me we were both very lucky men.  The two of us had winged each other.  No charges were pressed, but that was my wake-up call.  I could have been killed that night, Joseph, or I could have killed an innocent man.”

“You never told us any of this.”

“I wasn’t exactly proud of my actions.  Is that something you’d want your sons to know?”

I chuckled slightly.  “No, I guess not.”

“The point is, I don’t want you finding yourself in the same situation.  You can bet there are a few hidden secrets your old man has kept from you, but this one I never felt the need to get off my chest … until now.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“So am I, son.”

“So what happens now?”

“Well, that’s up to you.”

“Yeah.  Sure don’t need a gunfight.”

“No.”

I lay my head back against the tightly woven wicker and rocked for a while, thinking about Hoss and thinking about the guts my father had to summon in order to tell a secret he’d buried long ago.  I was my father’s son, more than I knew, and I suppose that’s why he thought it necessary to come clean, to lay all his cards on the table and hope the telling wasn’t in vain.

“Maybe someday you’ll forgive me, Pa.”

“Son, I already have.”

~~~

I remained on the front porch until the sun dipped behind snow-capped peaks, and I was forced to return inside.  But evening proved long, and I fought to stay sober, to remain in my room and ride out the months of abuse.  I paced, sensing the walls closing in and leaving a rather disjointed space to vent my frustration.  I wanted to hurl something against the wall, to hear it shatter, to witness the fragmented pieces that mirrored my life.  Instead, I threw open the window for some much-needed air.  The flask in my saddlebags was full, begging, calling.

But down below in the dark of night, I caught sight of my father, his arms gently resting on the corral railing.  The air felt cold; the touch of spring had vanished.  I watched as Pa dug the heel of his boot back and forth in the dirt.  Was he second-guessing his decision to broadcast his past, or was he longing for Hoss to ride into the yard?  Maybe both.

Within an hour, Pa walked into my room.  By then, I was lying on my bed, watching shadows dance on the ceiling as the cold breeze blew through the open window.  Pa rubbed his arms, finding it colder than he expected.  “Chilly up here,” he said.

“Yeah, guess it is.” 

I hadn’t really noticed, but maybe the cold had kept me from dwelling on my present condition.  I swung my legs over the side of the bed.  Lightheaded and sensing the room, swirling around me, I scrubbed my hands over my face and took a deep breath.

Pa sat down next to me, worrying his hands in his lap.  “Doing okay?”

“Yeah, Pa,” I lied.

Pa forced a smile and slid his hand across my shoulders.  My body stiffened at first, but when his grip tightened, the raging tempest began to subside.  I turned to face my father and accept his help without fear of rejection.  He’d walked in my shoes before, and for the first time, I felt the worst was over and we could leave the past behind.  Above all, there was still love in my father’s heart for his youngest son.

~~~

Pa had left his decanter of brandy in the open, riding on faith I would have strength enough to leave it alone, and by the end of the week, I had Pa follow me out to the barn.  I reached into my saddlebags, and while Pa stood by my side, I tipped the silver flask, letting its golden contents soak into the ground.  His look of pride, along with a simple nod of his head, meant the world to me.

I was back to work most days, some good, some not so good.  I could laugh and joke one day and explode like a lit keg of powder the next, but Candy hung tight.  There was never a cross word, even though I’m sure he had to refrain from taking me down a peg.

Since Pa and I were back on track and our lives had settled into a pretty normal routine, Pa asked Candy to move into the house.  Our foreman seemed hesitant, trying to justify the reason for the request. “Don’t know when I’ll feel like movin’ on, Mr. Cartwright.”

“That’s always been our agreement,” Pa reminded him.  “But I feel you’ve become a valuable asset to this family.”

Candy extended his hand to my father.  “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Then you’ve got a deal.”

No doubt, Candy was a fine man, but was Pa trying to replace my brother—or brothers?  I didn’t think that was the case, but nonetheless, I was curious about his motives.

The three of us sat down for breakfast the next morning, and Hop Sing treated our new occupant like royalty.  He’d truly outdone himself, fixing more food than any of us could eat.  Pa handed me a list of supplies we needed from town.  “If you two ride in together, you’ll manage twice as fast and be home in time to get your chores done this afternoon.”

I held my temper in check.  It didn’t take two of us to pick up supplies.  I’d held my own for nearly two weeks; not a slip-up, not a drop of alcohol had passed my lips.  Maybe my thoughts were irrational, but they hovered in the back of my mind as I hitched up the team before Candy and I drove into town.  Was I being watched?  Was there still a trace of doubt in Pa’s mind?

“Here’s the list, Jake,” I said after I’d jumped down from the buckboard.

“Looks like Hop Sing’s out of about everything,” he said, glancing down both sheets of paper.  “Take about an hour for me to get this all together, Joe.”

“You set it all out.  Candy and I will be back to load up.”

“That’s a deal.”

“Well, buddy,” Candy said, draping his arm across my shoulders.  “We’ve got an hour to kill.  Got any ideas?”

“How ‘bout a beer?”  The look I got from Candy was exactly what I expected.  “I can handle one beer.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”  

It was obvious neither my father nor the ranch foreman trusted me in town by myself.  I wasn’t here to get drunk, and I wasn’t here to forget.  I wanted to see if I could sit in a saloon and have a casual beer with a friend.  I wasn’t sure if I could or not but for my own peace of mind, I needed to know.

We sat together like old times; two friends laughing and enjoying a beer, but it didn’t take long for my mood to change.  Maybe it was the table I’d chosen, the one where the bottle and I had become best friends.  Maybe it was the sound of the piano or coins scraping across poker tables, but after drinking half a beer, I felt it was time to leave.

“Let’s get outta here,” I said.  I started toward the batwings, surprising Candy with my sudden urge to get the hell away from the saloon.

We loaded the wagon in silence and started for home.  After handing the reins over to Candy, I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes.  Candy held his tongue.  He was a smart man.  No questions asked, no answers given.

Candy pulled up close to the house, and we unloaded Hop Sing’s supplies. And after witnessing my mood in town, I told Candy to go on inside, I’d put up the team this time around.  Dragging the horses behind me, I stopped cold just inside the barn.  My brother’s horse filled his stall.  I stood without moving, staring at Chub as he munched on oats in the feed bin. 

Although my prayers had been answered, I wasn’t at all ready to face the music.  I dropped the reins and held steadfast to the wooden upright separating the big black from my own slighter paint.  I stared back at the house, wondering what was being said as I lingered in the barn like a scared little kid.  Where was the man who’d fought his way from boyhood to prove he could make crucial decisions for the betterment of the ranch until personal decisions rocked our world?  

~~~

“Where’s Joe?”  Ben asked when Candy walked through the front door.

“He’s puttin’ up the team, Mr. Cart—” Candy stopped mid-sentence when he spotted Hoss coming down the stairs.

“Hey, Candy.”  Hoss crossed the room and reached out to shake the foreman’s hand.  “Good to see ya.”

Candy grinned from ear to ear.  “Good to see you too, Hoss.”

“Hey, where’s Little Joe?”

“He’ll be here in a minute.  He’s—wait,” Candy said, snapping his fingers.  “I’ll put up the team.  He won’t believe his eyes.”

Candy opened the door just in time to see Joe ducking his head as he rode through the double doors of the barn.  “Joe, wait!  Joe!”

He turned back toward the great room, removing his hat, stalling for something to say.  “Um . . . Joe’s gone.”  Candy remained just inside the front door, glancing quickly at Ben and then Hoss.

“Gone?”  Ben repeated.

“Why would he up and leave, Pa?  He had to’ve seen Chubby.”

“He may have forgotten something in town.  I’m sure you’re hungry, son, and Hop Sing has lunch on the table.  Let’s take our seats; Joe will be back soon.”

Hoss was everything Candy remembered him to be, and after months on the trail, he looked no worse for wear.  Time away had been kind to the big man, and his love for a good meal hadn’t changed. 

While Hoss and Ben caught up on ranch business, Candy only toyed with his food, fretting too much to eat.  “I was thinking, Mr. Cartwright …“

“Go ahead, Candy,” Ben nodded.  “I know you’ve got things to do.”  With a skillfully hidden wink from Ben, Candy was out the door before another word was said.

“You look worried, Pa.  Is Little Joe in some kind of trouble?”

“No, certainly not.  More steak?”

“Tastes mighty good, Pa.  I been missin’ Hop Sing’s fine cookin’.”

“I bet you have.  Now, I want to hear how you’ve been keepin’ yourself, where you’ve been, and how life’s been treating you.”

Hoss had noticed the awkward glances between his father and Candy, and he wasn’t about to sit back and let things slide.  “I don’t mind tellin’ ya everywhere I’ve been and what I been doin’, but first you’re gonna tell me about Little Joe.  Somethin’s up and I wanna hear that first.” 

Ben hesitated.  Telling Hoss on the day of his homecoming was not what he had envisioned.  He knew exactly where his youngest had gone, and if Joe was drinking excessive amounts again today, the demons were still with him.  What should have been a joyous occasion had collapsed into hopeless despair.  But honesty had always been the number one rule, and Ben would give Hoss an explanation, as best he could.  “Your brother has had some problems while you’ve been away.”

“What kinda problems, Pa?”

“I don’t like telling tales, but this has become a serious issue.”

“What has?”

“Joe’s been drinking heavily, son.”

“Heavily?  How heavy?”

“I’m afraid Joseph’s taken this whole incident and let it take him down a difficult path.  Your brother’s just now coming to terms with this life-or-death situation.  I can’t lie to you, son.  Joe is not the same kind of man you are.  You took the time needed to search for answers, and I have to assume you’ve found them or you wouldn’t be here now.  Am I right?”

“Yeah, you’re right, Pa.  But what about Joe?  Why’d he have to do that to hisself?”

“Guilt.  Loss of his brother.  Maybe he will explain everything in time.”

“He ain’t hurt hisself, has he?”

Ben longed for the right words to say without upsetting Hoss more than necessary.  But how did you put into words Paul’s prediction—Joe’s outcome if he continued to pour whiskey down his throat?

“Pa?  You ain’t answered my question.”

“Your brother needs help, son.  He has to stop drinking or—“

“Or what?  He’s gonna kill hisself?  That’s what Doc told you, ain’t it, Pa?  Joe has to stop drinkin’ or he’s gonna die.

 “Son—”

“It’s my fault.  I never shoulda—“

“NO!”  Ben shouted, scraping the chair legs as he stood and pounded the palm of his hand on the table.  “It’s over.  You need to realize, and so does your brother.  This thing with that woman has gone on long enough.”

~~~

This was the last place I should be, but The Silver Dollar had become my home away from home.  I should have kept riding, should have traded places with my brother.  Now that Hoss was home with Pa, they didn’t need me interfering with their lives.  Numba three son; numba one disappointment.  I chuckled at my desperate attempt at humor, but truth be told, my entire life had become nothing but a laughing matter.

I poured another drink, downed it quickly, and decided it was time to drain the lizard.  The outhouse was out back, but as I gazed across the crowded room, my chances of staying on my feet were challenging at best.  When I stood, I steadied myself, grabbing hold of the table’s edge and waiting for the dizziness to pass.  Men of all shapes and sizes kept bumping into me as I tried to pass through the saloon.

A sudden crash—a tipped-over table was commonplace on a Saturday night.  Coins were scattered under my boots while men crowded in from all angles.  And as the room swayed, I heard shots and broken glass.  The music came to a stop, ladies screamed, and I suddenly slammed clear across a wooden table before crashing headlong to the floor.

A ceiling fan whirled above me, sending hazy blue smoke rippling like waves to the far corners of the saloon.  A blonde woman knelt down beside me, pressing a wet cloth to the side of my head.  Her forehead was lined with worry, and when she spoke, her voice was kind and gentle.  “You’ll be just fine, Little Joe.  The doc’s on his way.”  I tried to remember her name.

~~~

I woke with a start, finding I was settled in my own bed, my own room, with no recollection of how I got home.  I guessed Candy, but I remembered nothing.  I sensed I was being watched, and I turned my head to find Hoss leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed and the beginnings of a smile rounding out his face.

“See you decided to join the living.”  Hoss crossed the room and picked up the pitcher next to my bed.  “Betcha got a hankerin’ for a cool glass of water.”

He slid his hand behind my head and eased me up off the pillow.  “Thanks,” I said.  He lowered me back down, and I wanted to close my eyes, blocking the sight and sound of my brother.

“Doc says you’re gonna be fine.”

“Doc?”  

“Said it ain’t no more’n a scratch.  Good thing that miner weren’t aimin’ for you or we might not be talkin’ right now.”

“Yeah—” It all came back; the poker game, the sudden eruption of noise, the shot.

“Just grazed ya some, little brother.  Didn’t need but a couple stitches, is all.”

It was hard to imagine Hoss standing in my room after all this time.  He looked good, clean, rosy-cheeked, and sparkling blue-eyed; no worse for wear.  I’d worried for a long time, wondering how he was making out.  “It’s good to have you home,” I said barely above a whisper.

“It’s good to be home.”

My brother pulled up a chair and folded his hands in his lap.  There was so much to say, so much healing to be done, but Hoss acted as if today was no different than any other in the lives of Joe and Hoss Cartwright.  “All I can say is I’m sorry, Hoss.”

“Ah, Joe.  What’s past is past.”

I nearly laughed.  “You can’t mean that.”

Hoss leaned back in a chair that hugged him tightly and ran his hands along its wooden arms.  “I’ve had time to think, Joseph.”

“But still …”

“I loved Ali more’n I ever loved anyone else in my life, ‘cept for you and Pa and Adam.  She was to be my wife.  Imagine me, ol’ Hoss, gettin’ married and havin’ a wife and,” Hoss, blushed,  “maybe even a passel of kids.”

“Hoss, I—”

“Shut your mouth, Joseph, and let me finish.”

“For some reason, it weren’t meant to be with Ali and me.  I accept that now, and I ain’t blamin’ you no more.  I been thinking long and hard these past few months, and I decided home is where I wanna be.  I love my family, and that includes you, and I don’t wanna live nowhere else but here on the Ponderosa.  

“There ain’t no greener pastures nowhere else.  I thought I could find ‘em, but I ain’t like Adam.  That ain’t me, Joe, and that’s why I come back.  This is my home, always will be no matter what.”

I longed to tell him I loved her, too.  It wasn’t just a game Ali and I played behind closed doors.  But I said nothing; it served no purpose but to cause each of us more pain.  My heart ached when my brother included me as one of the reasons he’d come home.  I struggled to sit up, and Hoss was quick to lend a hand.  Between too much whiskey and the wound, my head pounded faster than a Gatling gun.  I pressed my fingers against the bandage.

“Best to leave that be, Joe.”

“I suppose.”  For just a scrape, it sure captured my attention.

“Maybe you should get a touch more sleep, little brother.”

Little brother.  How I loved the sound of those words.  “I guess you’re right,” I said, sinking back down under the covers.  “You’ll be back later?”

“Count on it.”

Hoss stood to leave, and I wished for the magic words that would set us both free but in some respects, we were already.  Without much talk, we’d each said enough to begin our lives over; at least I hoped that was the case.

I thought about Ali and the three men who’d taken her with them.  If the shorter man was indeed her husband, then the woman had duped us both.  I’d asked myself that question repeatedly, usually after my second or third drink.  She’d played Hoss and me for fools, leaving us both to find our way after she was gone.

My drinking was out in the open.  Pa had told Hoss everything, and I knew he would blame himself for the path I’d chosen.  It was no one’s fault but my own, but I was ready to put that life behind me and move on.  There was nothing like a reformed drunk, settling back into the saloon, to set a man straight.

Tomorrow, I will step up to the plate and ask Pa and my brother for help.  Two weeks time wasn’t long enough to say I’d been cured, but I felt a sense of renewal.  I couldn’t do it alone.  As Pa always said, “No man is an island.”  It’s time I took those words to heart.

~~~

As promised, Hoss returned to my room, carrying a checkerboard he sat up on my bed.  Pa had stopped in earlier, but he knew Hoss and I needed time alone to make amends.  I still struggled for the right words to say, words that would make each of us whole again.  

He laid out the pieces and nodded for me to start.  I moved my black and he moved his red, and then his word flowed like a fast-running stream.  “Candy told me somethin’ I didn’t figger on about you and Ali,” he said without looking up.  I moved my piece, as did Hoss.  “He said you was in love with her, too.”

I kept my eyes on the board; I moved my black.

“He said it was somethin’ out of anyone’s control.”  I started to move.  “It’s my turn,” Hoss said.  I lowered my hand to my lap.

“I blamed you, Joseph.  I blamed you for ruinin’ my life.  I blamed you for takin’ the only woman I’d ever truly loved away from me … your turn.”

Slowly, I moved my piece.

“I thought you was the scum of the earth.  What kind of man does that to his own brother?”  Hoss moved his red.  I could barely breathe, but I kept silent.  I listened, although I felt significantly less of a man with every word said.

“It took weeks, Joe, months, in fact, but I finally realized you wouldn’t never do that to me without an awful good reason.”

I started to look up, but I failed to meet his eyes.  I moved my piece instead, as if we weren’t having this conversation at all.

“Somehow, nothin’ made sense to me no more.”  Hoss jumped my black.  “I didn’t know till I got home that you was in love with Ali, too.  But before Candy said them words to me, I missed ya, Joe.  The hate kinda got less and less each day.”

I moved my black.

“That’s when I started home.”  Hoss moved his red.  “I didn’t want to be gone no more.”  I moved, and Hoss kinged me.  “The way I see things, there’s always a plan, and Ali was sent here as part of that plan.”  

I nearly looked up.  What was he trying to say—a plan—wasn’t a great plan, that’s for sure.

“Maybe it was so we don’t forget about the people we care for in this world.  Maybe it takes time, but we finally realize the people who mean the most would never hurt us intentionally.  Maybe I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about at all, but maybe you’ll try to forgive me.”

I pulled my hand back and looked up at my brother.  Tears stained his cheeks.  “Forgive you?”

“That’s what I said.  We was both wrong, Joe.  We’re grown men, and we shoulda known better than to act the way we did.  I never shoulda blamed ya without talkin’ things out first.  That’s how we’ve always done in the past.  I never shoulda run off like a coward and not faced ya head on.”

I appreciated what Hoss was saying, but it was me he needed to forgive, not the other way around.

“I remember Ali tellin’ us her Uncle moved out here and took a chance he’d strike it rich.  Maybe she done the same, you know, so to speak.  Things didn’t work out for Uncle Henry, and things didn’t work out for me.  It was a chance I took.  We all gotta take them chances in life.  We gotta put ourselves out there, cuz if we don’t then life ain’t worth livin’.  Your move.”

I glanced down at the checkerboard, and it was obvious Hoss had other things on his mind.  “Well, brother, I’m gonna take a chance you won’t kill me after I jump your last pieces.”  I jumped three reds, and the game was over.

“Dadburn you’re ornery hide, Joseph!”

I raised my eyebrows and ran my fingers across the burn mark, still bandaged and sore.  “Don’t forget I’m wounded.  You wouldn’t hurt a wounded man, would you, Hoss?”

~~~

Ben stood outside his son’s bedroom door.  He’d scolded his boys many times over for eavesdropping, but it was important for a father to know what went on under his own roof.  He’d heard the whole conversation and was proud of his sons for working out their differences in a civilized, brotherly manner.  They would always be his little boys, but tonight, maybe they’d finally become grown men.

The End

2011

Lucy

by jfclover

Chapter 1

When a man reaches a certain age, he should be allowed to make his own decisions. He should be allowed to make choices that affect his life and those around him. He should be able to call the shots even if a situation alters his life in a way he’d never planned or considered before. Family has to be considered, especially my family, and therein lies the problem, but that’s not where the story begins.

It’s a sad story really, one that depicts human nature in a bad light but as they say, there’s light at the end of the tunnel, and I believe that’s true. Sometimes we become stronger individuals if we take that trip through the darkness and search for light on the other side. Sometimes there’s a landslide blocking our way and we’re forced to dig through an endless pile of rock and debris. Some rocks are heavier than others, and we question whether the effort to break through is worthwhile. This is my story. It’s a rocky ride through a long, dark tunnel.

~

Her name was Lucy Miller, and she was a pretty girl, even as far back as our school days. When I first met her, she wore pigtails, and freckles covered most of her face. She was a skinny kid like me; in fact, most kids were except Devin Albertson and kids made fun, especially when he pulled his lunch pail out at noon break, but not Lucy.

Lucy was the first one to laugh at my awful jokes. She knew how to make others laugh and feel special too, even young boys like Devin. Everyone loved her. Though money was scarce, she came from a good home and a good family and as she grew into womanhood, her two older brothers were set on keeping interested boys away from their baby sister.

Lucy and I had been friends for more years than I could count. At nineteen, we’d both gone our separate ways. She was sweet on Evan Carter and I was sweet on Betsy Carmichael, and the four of us often went to dances together. In fact, we planned to attend the Saturday night dance at Ben Jessop’s barn on the outskirts of Virginia City.

Though I’d never officially courted Lucy, we’d remained friends throughout the years. She told me her problems and I told her mine. We were close, and not much slipped by that we didn’t share with each other. She knew my darkest secrets and innermost fears. Pa and my brothers didn’t know half of what I’d told Lucy. We were each other’s confidants. She knew me and I knew her, inside and out.

But time has a way of interfering and old traditions are lost forever. Lucy was with Evan now and she’d become more secretive, more reserved about conveying each special moment to her “best friend.” I didn’t mind. Actually, I never gave it much thought, but I should’ve realized how much our lives had changed, that we weren’t children any longer, that we solved our problems without having to run to each other every time we faced a new dilemma or had a difficult day.

Lucy’s life had become private. Now, her secrets stayed with her until the day she confronted me with a life-altering situation, the day she reached out for help and I was the person she chose, the person she picked to lean on, to help see her through the dark days ahead, but I need to backtrack just a bit.

The four of us walked into the dance together. We’d had supper at the International House and then headed straight to Ben Jessop’s barn. I knew something was off. Evan and Lucy weren’t holding hands or mooning over each other as they’d done in the past.

Betsy was oblivious. She and I had only been seeing each other a few weeks, and I was growing tired of her endless jabbering about this and that. It was all about Betsy, and I knew our relationship was winding down rather than speeding up. The barn dance would probably be our last night together. At nineteen, I didn’t have time to waste on a girl I didn’t much care for.

Rarely would a couple dance every set with each other. We traded off, and I was ready to hand chatterbox-Betsy off to anyone who’d take her. I had someone else in mind, and I cut in on Evan and Lucy near the end of the first set.

“May I?”

“She’s all yours, Cartwright.”

I winked at Lucy and took her hand in mine. I placed my right hand on the small of her back. When Ol’ Roy, the night’s fiddler, tapped his foot three times and began playing a fast-paced tune, we all lined up for the Virginia reel.

“Ready?”

“Joe,” she said weakly. “Would you mind if we went outside instead? I could really use some fresh air.”

“Sure. Come on.”

I thought nothing of it at the time. Two friends, one honoring the other’s request seemed innocent enough to me, but I was wrong. I was real, real wrong.

“Joe Cartwright!”

Her voice startled me and I turned to face the one and only Betsy, red-faced and madder’n hell.

“I swear. You spend more time with that woman than you do with me. I’m done with you, Little Joe. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

My mouth hung open like a kid caught stealing sweetnin’ from the candy jar. Even over Ol’ Roy’s fiddlin’, I bet half the people at the dance heard Betsy Carmichael’s irritating voice dress me down and stomp away.

“Joe, I’m sorry,” Lucy said. “If I’d known—“

“Don’t give it another thought.”

“But, Joe. I feel awful. I never meant to—“

“That’s enough. Forget her,” I said before pulling Lucy through the open barn doors. “She means nothing to me. It was all but over anyway.”

Lucy shook her head. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not. Have I ever lied to you? Seriously, Betsy and I are over.”

In only a moment’s time, Lucy’s mood changed. She said nothing more, and I was caught off guard when she used my right side to prop herself up.

“Is something wrong? Don’t you feel well?”

“It’s nothing, Joe. Seriously,” she said, as if mocking my earlier statement, “I’m just tired is all.”

That’s how Lucy and I communicated. Another man might have mistaken her repeating my word as a slam, but I knew better because we were friends, longtime friends, and I’d have it no other way.

We walked hand in hand toward a grove of trees. We weren’t in a hurry to get there, and we weren’t in a hurry to get back to the dance. Time didn’t matter. Words weren’t necessary. We breathed in the night air and were content doing nothing but strolling at a leisurely pace. Something was bothering Lucy and when she was ready, she’d tell me. I wouldn’t push, but I’d be with her when she felt the time was right.

But the time never came.

When we entered the barn, Evan was quick to ask where’d we’d been and why we’d been gone so long. He seemed worried, and I felt I’d betrayed two people that night—Betsy and Evan. Though it was far from the truth, I couldn’t kid myself. Time spent with Lucy was much more enjoyable than time spent with the chatterbox.

When I asked Betsy for the next dance, she turned her back; she asked that I leave her alone. She said she would find someone more suitable to escort her home and, in a not-so-quiet voice, she said I was a terrible person and I didn’t need to come around her place anymore. Although I was grateful she’d ended the relationship, she hated me and thought I didn’t care. Actually, I did care, just not enough.

My brothers sat at home on Saturday night, said they were too tired to ride into town. I hoped I never got so old I wouldn’t care about dances and such. Neither of my brothers had steady girls, and maybe that had something to do with them preferring to sit home by a warm fire. That, or they’d become plum lazy in their old age.

I drove back to the ranch alone in the buggy I’d cleaned to a sparkling shine earlier in the day. Even though Betsy and I weren’t meant for each other like I’d first thought, I’d made an effort to escort her to the dance in style. My mind raced back to Lucy and her banker boyfriend, Evan. I hoped she was happy. All indications said she was. She enjoyed his company and I often wondered if they’d marry.

Evan came from money. His father, Jack J. Carter, owned and was president of the Virginia City Bank, and Evan was next in line when his father passed. Lucy grew up with nothing but the bare minimum. Her father was a miner and often out of work. Her ma died when she was just a kid, and Mr. Miller provided the best he could, but a miner’s pay only went so far. Mines paid well, better than any rancher could afford to pay even its top hands, but feeding and clothing his three children with a job that was off and on had been a hardship.

I remember sharing lunches back in school.  Hop Sing always over-packed my pail and I always shared with Lucy.  She never said anything at the time, but she knew I was compensating for her lack of.  Her lunches were nothing to brag about, and I’d hand her my apple or, if we were lucky that day, I’d hand her a piece of last night’s apple pie.

I’m not sure why we never courted; I guess we were too good of friends to let love or the threat of heartbreak get in our way. Things were fine as they were.  She was with Evan, and next week I’d have a new girl to squire about town, simple as that.

A month passed and I received a message from Lucy, hand-delivered by a boy from town. “For Mr. Joe Cartwright,” he said. I paid him a shiny new dime and he was on his way. I unfolded the note.

“Meet me at the old oak by Sander’s Pond. Nine o’clock tonight.”

Even though the message wasn’t signed, I recognized Lucy’s handwriting from notes she’d written me in school.

“Who was that at the door, Joseph?”

“Um … just a boy, Pa.”

My father stood from his desk and came toward me before I could tuck the note in my shirt pocket.

“Just a boy?”

Pa had a way of repeating things until the answer was clear in his mind. I wasn’t sure whether to tell him the truth or not, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around a decent white lie.

“It’s a note for me, Pa. Nothing special.”

“Oh? A boy rides this far for nothing special?”

“It’s just a note from Lucy Miller.”

Pa crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a look I didn’t much like, but I’d seen many times before. “Hasn’t she been going around town with the banker’s son, Jack Carter’s boy?”

“Yessir.”

“Then why is she sending notes to you?”

“We’re friends, Pa. That’s all. Maybe she’s upset about something or maybe she just needs to talk. I don’t know.”

“What did she say in the note?”

I shrugged my shoulders. Pa wasn’t letting this go. “She wants me to meet her.”

“Today?”

“Tonight … at nine o’clock.”

Pa’s stance widened, he pushed his hands deep into his pants pockets and again, a look that said I should explain. Problem was, I didn’t know any more than my father. I had no idea what was going on or why the late hour.

“That’s all I know, Pa.” I handed my father the note.

“Hum … seems odd, doesn’t it?”

“Sort of, I guess.” I shifted my weight and reached for the paper that had been addressed to me and had suddenly become a major issue. “I’ll meet her and see what’s up. Then I’ll ride back home. No big deal, Pa.”

But it was a big deal. Lucy had never done anything like this before and I was curious, same as Pa, although I didn’t let on. I brushed it off before he had a chance to say more. I didn’t want to surmise, and that’s all we’d be doing if I hung around and let my father push for answers when I didn’t have a clue.

The hours passed slowly and at eight-thirty, I went out to saddle my horse. A few minutes later, Pa walked into the barn.

“You’re sure you know nothing about this meeting?”

“You saw the note same as me, Pa.”

“I just thought maybe you—“

“Well, I don’t, and I won’t know till I talk to Lucy.” I tightened Cooch’s cinch and backed my horse out of his stall. “We’ll talk later, Pa.”

“Be careful, son.”

“I will.”

My father was worried, but Pa always worried. Me, being the baby of the family, seemed to give him the right. I never saw the same treatment with Hoss or Adam. They were grown men and I’d always be the youngest no matter what. Even if I got old and fat and my hair turned gray, I’d still be Pa’s baby and he’d still worry.

I rode toward Sander’s Pond. It wasn’t a long ride, about halfway between Virginia City and the ranch house, but riding at night was trickier than daytime travel. Prairie dog holes could trip a horse up, and horse and rider could easily take a tumble. Luckily, the moon shone bright, but I kept my pace slow and steady until I saw Lucy’s buggy parked next to the lake. I dismounted and dropped Cooch’s reins to the ground.

“Hi,” I said.

I helped Lucy down from her buggy.

“Let’s walk down by the lake,” she said.

I took her hand and we walked together. Mystery is a funny thing. My stomach was filled with butterflies. I wondered if hers was too. We’d never kept secrets but tonight seemed different. I held hands with my best friend, but I felt nervous, unsettled.

Lucy’s initial announcement caught me off guard, but the second part of her story was even more disconcerting. Evan had a solution for everything. Easy money can be a godsend, especially for a man in high standing within the community. No dirty little secrets need to see the light of day, not when a man can buy his way out and eliminate any problem that might arise.

Lucy was with child. That alone had turned her world upside down. Her emotions ran high. The tears on my shirtfront were all the proof needed for me to know she was upset, that she was lost and confused and needed her best friend to help set things straight.

Evan’s response that she terminate the pregnancy had prompted the note and our subsequent meeting. He said he couldn’t marry her, that his father would never approve, and having his baby out of wedlock would only ruin his chances to become one of Virginia City’s leading citizens. The relationship was over. He’d find a willing doctor in one of the neighboring towns, and he’d arrange and pay for everything. She needn’t worry.

I thought about the dances Evan and Lucy had attended. Surely, his pa knew he was squiring her about town, so why would he say his father would never approve? I didn’t understand that part. Maybe he’d found someone new, someone whose social status would promote him to a higher rank within the community.

“I don’t want a doctor to kill my baby, Joe.”

I held Lucy close to me. I let her get it all out before I said anything at all. My mind worked overtime and thoughts I’d never had before began to surface. I mulled them over. Decisions had to be made and quickly, and I wondered if I was man enough to say what was on my mind.

“What am I going to do, Joe? I can’t tell Papa or my brothers.”

“You’re gonna marry me,” I said firmly.

Lucy sniffed back her tears and pushed away from my chest. “I love you, Joe. I always will, but I can’t marry you. Not this way.”

“Yes, you can and yes, you will. As soon as we find a preacher, we’ll be married. Tomorrow even.”

She shook her head. “I won’t saddle you with someone else’s child. You know me better than that, at least you should.”

“I know you better than anyone else in this world, Lucy Miller, and if a man asks you to marry him, you should at least consider his offer.”

“All right. Consider it considered, but I’m not marrying you. What would your father and brothers say? I can hear them all now and so can you.”

I turned Lucy to face me straight on. “Listen up.  This is between you and me. It’s no one else’s concern. You, me, and the baby. That’s all that matters now. Our families will wonder why we didn’t get married a long time ago.”

“You’re a dreamer, Joe. You’re a romantic dreamer.”

“So … say yes and make my dreams come true.” She dropped her eyes, but I lifted her chin with my finger. “Please. Say you’ll be my wife.”

Lucy and I were married the following day in Carson City by a preacher we’d never met before and would never see again. We had lunch at one of the city’s nicer restaurants and were back in Virginia City by mid-afternoon. I dropped my wife off at her father’s house, and I returned to the branding pit where my own father thought I’d been working all day. I’d asked Hoss and Adam to cover for me, that I had something important to do and I’d explain later. Though Adam was harder to convince, he told me to go on, get lost, do what I had to do but I owed him.

“Thanks, brothers.  I owe you both.”

After packing my saddlebags with a clean, white shirt and black, string tie, I’d picked Lucy up from her seamstress job in town. She worked for the widow Baker and she, too, had asked for time off. I rented a buggy from the livery and told Manuel I’d have it back late that afternoon.

Lucy was nervous. I was shaking in my boots but it was the right thing to do. We had a plan. We would get married first, and then I would squire her around town so everyone knew we were a couple. The telling would come later but, for the baby’s sake, the marriage certificate would already be in hand.

I’d always prided myself on coming up with good plans and the plan I’d chosen seemed perfect at the time. We’d both live at home until we thought the time was right to tell our families what we’d done and how we intended to make things work so there’d be no nasty rumors concerning the Millers or Cartwrights.

Although Lucy was hesitant, I had a unique way of persuading people to my way of thinking. I’d been lucky with Hoss many times. Not so much with Adam or Pa, but I truly thought I was doing the right thing. Marrying Lucy was best for all parties concerned.

The morning after I’d met Lucy at Sander’s Pond, which was the same day I became a married man, Pa asked what the meeting had been all about. Even though I had wedding bells on my mind, I didn’t mention the life-changing event at all. That wasn’t part of the plan.

“Evan, the banker’s son, called it quits,” I said to Pa. “Lucy was pretty down, but I cheered her up; in fact, I asked her to go with me to next Saturday’s dance.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Don’t get too involved, Joe. She’s hurting now, but she’ll move on. She’ll soon discover brighter days ahead.”

“Yeah, and I’ll make sure she does.”

Pa’s eyes narrowed as though I’d said something wrong. “I’m not sure what you mean, son.”

“It’s nothing, Pa. You know how much I like Lucy. I always have. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“I know, but I don’t want either of you to get hurt or—“

“Or what? Is there something wrong with me taking Lucy to a dance?”

“Of course not.  I just want you to be careful.”

“Fine.  I’ll be careful.”

The conversation made no sense. I’d taken Lucy to dances before. There were times neither of us had a significant other and because we enjoyed each other’s company, we’d go to dances with each other. End of story, or was it?

I remembered something Pa had said a long time ago. “You have to like the girl you marry. Marriage isn’t only about love. Love comes later.”

I nearly blurted out the plans Lucy and I had made. That I planned to marry her in a few short hours and live happily ever after with a girl I liked. A girl I would grow to love, a girl who would grow to love me too, but I held my tongue and walked away from my father. After all, it was my wedding day and no one was going to damper our plans.

Weeks passed.  Lucy and I’d been seen together often. There’d been dances, drinking lemonade at Daisy’s Café, dinners at the International House, buggy rides on Sunday afternoons, and people began to take notice. Gracious comments, offering up good wishes, saying what a handsome couple we made, had become a daily occurrence. My plan was working, and I wondered how much longer we should wait before springing the news on our families.

“There’s an old line shack on the Ponderosa we could fix up real nice and cozy and move into as soon as we’re ready,” I said to Lucy one Sunday afternoon when I’d stopped the buggy next to the lake.

“That’s a long way from town, Joe.”

“What’s Virginia City got to do with anything?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “That’s where I live, where I grew up. I don’t know anything about country life.”

“What’s there to know? You already know how to cook. You’ve been cooking meals for your pa and brothers since your ma died. You won’t have much to clean. There’s only the one room, but I figured I could add a second, even a third after the baby comes.”

“I see.”

“You don’t sound too convinced,” I chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll milk the cow and feed the chickens. You know, all that country stuff.”

“Don’t make fun of me, Joe.”

“I’d never … I was only teasing.”

“Joe, I’m scared.”

“Why?”  I scooted closer to my wife and draped my arm over her shoulder. I pulled her next to me.  “What’s there to be scared of?”

“My father. My brothers. Your father and your brothers. What are they going to say?  I’m starting to show, Joe.”

“Then we should make the announcement this weekend. I’ll have Pa ask your family to supper and we’ll tell them—” I paused for a quick breath “—we’ll tell them we were married, but we won’t say anything about the baby just yet.”

Like a flimsy rag doll, Lucy’s body sagged against mine. She was worried, and I was too, but the truth had to be told, at least part of the truth. I was tired of living a lie. Sure, our families would be shocked, but they’d soon realize there was nothing they could do but congratulate us and wish us well. Besides, we were old enough to make our own decisions and if I was lucky, Pa would allow me to continue working with my brothers and pay me top-hand wages at the end of every month. With that amount of money, we could get by.

“I’ll talk to my father tonight,” I said.

“Aren’t you scared, Joe?”

“Damn right I’m scared. I’ll probably have to tell him everything.”

I was in a loopy haze the rest of the afternoon.  After taking Lucy home, I returned the rented buggy to the livery and rode back to the Ponderosa on Cochise.  I went over the speech I’d give Pa a hundred times in my mind, but it never came outright.  I’m married, Pa … Lucy and I got married on the 25th … You’re not going to believe what I have to say, but … Nothing sounded right.  The truth was hard to explain.

I stabled Cooch and walked slowly toward the house. I felt like a child. Pa wouldn’t take this well, and neither would my brothers. It had nothing to do with Lucy or the kind of girl she was. We all make mistakes and we all pay the price for those mistakes, but our marriage wasn’t a mistake. That’s what Pa needed to understand.

“Well,” Pa said when I walked through the front door. “You finally made it home.”

“We rode down by the lake. I guess we were gone longer than I thought.”

I unbuckled my gunbelt and threw my hat on top of the credenza. Pa had rounded the corner from his desk and pulled me toward my brothers, who were playing a game of chess in front of a blazing fire.

“I didn’t want to mention this until you got home, Joseph, but we’re all going to San Francisco for a little vacation.”

“Going where?” Hoss asked. He turned his attention toward Pa and me. Pa’s grin nearly split his face in half. He was excited and it showed.

“Harry Jenkins has offered us a timber contract that … I’ll tell you, boys, this is the best deal we’ve ever had. Harry will pay top dollar if we can get timber cut and shipped, per his specifications, to San Francisco by the end of June. He wants me to come out and look at the plans for his new hotel and I thought we’d all go out there together. See the sights, and have a little vacation before the work begins.”

“Must be a pretty big project,” Hoss said.

“It is, son. A seven-story hotel.”

“Seven,” Adam said. “How many rooms?”

“I don’t know but with your background, you can help me decipher the plans Harry wants to show me.”

“I can’t go,” I said.

“What?” Pa chuckled. “May I ask why not?”

I clasped my hands behind my back and looked up at Pa. “Can we talk privately?”

“Joseph, I don’t understand.”

“You will, Pa.”

“And this is something you can’t say in front of your brothers?”

“I’d rather not.”

Pa looked down at Hoss and Adam. Their game of chess would have to wait. “Will you excuse us, boys?”

“Sure, Pa. Come on, Hoss. We’ve got work in the barn.”

“We do?”

“Yeah, come on.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I nodded to my brothers as they walked past me and headed out the front door.

“Let’s sit down, Joseph.”

I followed my father. He sat in his overstuffed chair and I sat down on the settee next to him.

“Okay. Why don’t you want to go to San Francisco?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Pa. I can’t.”

“And why is that, Joseph?”

“Because … because I’m … because I have a wife and I should stay here with—“

“A wife!” Pa half snorted half chuckled. “What’s all this crazy nonsense about a wife?”

“It’s not nonsense, Pa. Lucy and I were married three weeks ago.”

“By whom?”

“A preacher in Carson City.”

“A preacher in Carson City,” Pa repeated.

“Yessir.”

Pa was counting the days. His eyes moved back and forth, as he did the math in his head rather than using a pencil and paper.

“Right after you met Lucy that night, am I right?”

“Yessir.”

“You’re saying you and Lucy Miller are married now.”

“Lucy Cartwright,” I corrected.

“Why? Why would you do something so foolish without speaking to me first?” Pa’s eyes narrowed. He glared at me. “Does her father know about this marriage?”

“No, sir. I wanted to talk to you tonight. I didn’t know about your plans for San Francisco. I wanted both families together so we could break the news to everyone at once.”

“First, tell me why? Why have you married this girl?”

“Because I love her, Pa.”

“Because you love her.”

“Yessir.”

Pa stood from his chair. He poured himself a shot of brandy, walked back, and stood in front of the fireplace. Recklessly, he poked at the burning logs.

“This’ll never work, Joseph.”

My hands hung between my knees. I rubbed my palms together. Pa would have to know the rest of the story.

“There’s more,” I said. Pa took his seat. He waited for me to continue. “Lucy’s gonna have a baby.”

“Oh, Joseph. Haven’t I taught you boys—“

“The baby isn’t mine, Pa. It … it’s another man’s baby.”

Trying to smooth the deep-set lines in his forehead, my father pushed hard with all four fingers. He didn’t look up; he wouldn’t meet my eyes but I continued anyway.

“It’s for the best, Pa. Lucy and I love each other,” I lied. We liked each other and Pa always said, like came before love. “We’ll make the marriage work. We want to move into that old line shack up by Rocking Chair Butte. I can fix it up, Pa. It’ll make a good home for Lucy and me and the baby.”

Silence hung in the air. I started to stand up.

“Sit down, Joseph.”

I sat back down. Pa leaned back in his chair and studied the fire; anything was better than looking at me after what I’d said. Everyone would be in an uproar until they all realized this was for the best, that Lucy’s problems would be solved and that we weren’t heading into this marriage with blinders on. That I was determined to make it work.

“What’s done is done and we need to move forward,” Pa said. “ When do you want to move into your new home?”

Although Pa’s statement shocked me, I continued talking as though this was a normal conversation. “I thought maybe Lucy’s family could come for supper this weekend so we would tell everyone all at once. Then we’d move into our new place after I fixed it up some.”

“All right.”

Pa’s tone was sharp rather than understanding. I’d said everything wrong. I’d made a mess of things, and this was no way to start a new marriage. I hadn’t even brought Lucy to the house. My brothers barely knew her and I had no one to back me up. Pa was angry. That was a given. I didn’t know what more I could say that would make everything turn out right.

For the past nineteen years, my father had done nothing but fret over every move I’d ever made.  Now, we were barely speaking. The home I’d shared with my family all these years no longer felt like home. I felt unwelcome. I felt like an outsider who stopped by to visit and would be moving along soon.

I began hauling my belongings to the cabin. Pa said I could rummage through the attic and take any furniture I wanted. There was an old rocking chair, a couple of oil lamps, two upright chairs, a braided rug that used to be in my bedroom, extra bed linens and pillows, and two patchwork quilts.

Hoss and I filled the wagon and he drove with me to the cabin. I’d come earlier in the week to clean the place up and get it move-in ready. I couldn’t have Lucy doing that kind of work, not in her condition.

The little place wasn’t bad. The creek was close by so we’d always have plenty of water. I’d tried out the fireplace and smoke drew up and out as slick as glass, letting me know that no little critters had built their home in the chimney. I’d washed the window and swept webs from the corners of the walls. I didn’t have time to do much else. It was moving day and any new construction would have to wait. For now, we’d have to sleep and eat in the same room, but not for long I hoped. Come summer, I could start building the new room, the private bedroom.

“Been a tough week, ain’t it, Little Joe.”

“Why’d you say that, Hoss?”

Hoss was driving. He took it slow so the furniture would shift too much in the wagon. Over the past week, I’d learned to keep my mouth shut for fear of saying something I shouldn’t but now, Hoss was ready to talk.

“Lucy’s a right pretty gal, Joe. You’ve always been kinda sweet on her, ain’t ya?”

“We’ve been friends a long time, even back when you were still in school, Lucy and I shared lunches and stuff.”

“When’d you know you was in love with her? I mean, did it just hit you one day or was you always in love?”

Hoss didn’t know how hard his question was to answer. Neither of us was actually in love, but I wasn’t going to let on. Like Pa said, love would come later.

“I’m not sure, Hoss. Guess it just snuck up on both of us. I can’t really say.”

“That’s kinda what I figgered. Think you’ll have a whole passel of kids someday?”

After I’d announced to the families we were married, neither of us had the heart or the guts to tell Lucy’s family she was pregnant. We’d been living apart for three weeks; it was time to end the charade and put our lives on the right track. No one even asked why all the secrecy. Pa already knew why the rush to marry, but my brothers didn’t know, and they seemed to follow Pa’s lead and not ask a bunch of questions.

Mr. Miller’s mouth hung open as he listened to my short explanation. His eyebrows kinda furrowed together like he was concentrating on every word I said, but he didn’t say much either. Maybe he was in shock. Perhaps he needed more time for everything to sink in and make sense.

Lucy’s older brothers, Luke and Larry Joe kept staring at me like I had the plague or some other vile disease. Both brothers were closer to Hoss’ age. They were big boys, tough boys, boys I’d never want to go up against in a barroom brawl. They’d been in and out of Roy Coffee’s jail for years, ever since they joined up with their Pa to work the Silver Creek mine.

“You ain’t answered my question, Little Joe.”

“Oh, sorry, Hoss,” I said. “Kids? Sure, someday.”

When Hoss pulled up in front of the cabin, I realized the little place was starting to feel like home. After cleaning all week, I felt a sense of pride in my efforts, and I hoped Lucy would be pleased. I hadn’t told her that Pa was buying us a new bed and wardrobe as wedding presents. This was a kind gesture on his part, and I knew she’d be grateful we wouldn’t have to share the tiny cot that came courtesy of any Ponderosa line shack. There were only a few usable pieces in the attic, and Pa knew my meager bank account wouldn’t support buying a lot of new furniture.

Though my father was taking our marriage in stride—after he got over the initial shock—I also knew he was disappointed and would have chosen a different route for his youngest son. He would have preferred a much different way of starting a marriage, and we’d had a long discussion about responsibility and about raising another man’s child.

“What about my ma?” I’d said halfway through our conversation. “She never complained about raising Hoss or Adam, did she?”

“No, Joe, but raising your brothers was different.”

“Why? What makes it different?”

“Because I’d been married to Adam and Hoss’ mothers.”

“I don’t see it the way you do, Pa. This child will be ours to raise as we see fit. Evan Carter gave up his rights when he wanted Lucy to kill the baby. It won’t be any different for me than it was for my ma. The baby doesn’t need to have my blood. I won’t love him any less.”

“Joe—” Pa reached for my shoulder and slid his arm across. “I’m proud of you for stepping up and helping Lucy out, but I’m afraid you’re taking on too much too soon. A wife and a new baby is a huge responsibility.”

“I know that, Pa.”

“Let me finish, son.”

“Fine.”

“You’re going to need help. Lucy will too.”

“You weren’t much older than me when Adam was born so why are you so worried about me handling things. Is it because I’m the baby of the family? Don’t you think I can take care of my own wife and child without the entire family trying to help? You wouldn’t say those things to Hoss or Adam, would you?”

“Joseph, you’re not listening.”

“Yes, I am, Pa. Lucy and the baby are my family. I know what I’m doing and I don’t need you or anyone else jumpin’ all over me.”

“I’m not jumping all over you. I’m merely telling you we’re all here if you need us.”

“That’s fine to say, Pa, but I won’t need any help. Lucy’s my wife. She’s having a child and the child will be ours. You have to accept that, Pa, and let me live my own life.”

I’d turned my back and left my father standing there alone, but it couldn’t be helped. He didn’t see things the way I did, and I was afraid to say anything more.

Hoss and I jumped down from the wagon. I opened the front door and threw down a log to keep the door from slamming closed while we unloaded the furniture into the house.

“You get the big stuff,” I said.

“You ain’t never gonna change, are you?”

“I don’t think so,” I chuckled.

It felt good to laugh, but Hoss and I always laughed and I’d probably miss him most of all. We’ve had some good times together and I hated to see those times end, but I would see him most days. Adam and Hoss and I would still be working together during the week and if I played my cards right, Pa would invite Lucy and me to Sunday dinner for some of Hop Sing’s good cooking.

“Help me with this rug, Joe.”

“Too big for you, brother?”

“Just get your butt over here and take hold of one end.”

“You don’t have to get all out of sorts. I’m coming.”

“Good thing for you or I’d kick your sorry ass from here to kingdom come.”

“Better watch your mouth, big brother.”

“Why?  You gonna kick my ass instead?”

I started giggling and nearly let the rolled-up rug slide off my shoulder. This was exactly what I’d miss, but things were different now. Hoss and I would have to watch our language around Lucy. Not that she hadn’t let a few remarks slip that weren’t exactly ladylike, but soon we’d have a child and I’d be a pa, and the sooner I learned to act like one the better.

I’d swiped a bottle of Pa’s whiskey before we left the house and as soon as Hoss and I were finished unloading, I reached into the crate of bed linens and pulled it out.

“Here you go, brother.”

Lowering his eyebrows, Hoss questioned my offering. “Pa’s?”

“Yep. I figured he wouldn’t mind if two hard-workin’ fellas took time for a shot or two.”

“That’s you, little brother. Always figgerin’.”

I handed Hoss the bottle and picked up the two straight-backed chairs we’d unloaded from the wagon. I carried them out to the front porch.

“This is a better place for these, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. You two can sit outside at night and get eaten alive by chiggers and mosquitos.”

“Hadn’t thought of that, but they’d do for sippin’ whiskey on a lazy afternoon, right?”

“That’s right. You figgered right, Little Joe.”

Saturday was move-in day. Hoss and I picked up the bed and wardrobe from Hadley’s Mercantile the day before, and everything was ready for my new wife to see what I’d done to make our lives comfortable. The line shack wasn’t much smaller than the little clapboard house where she and her brothers were raised, and as soon as I added on the two extra rooms, we’d be set for the rest of our lives.

I filled a blue, ceramic vase with wildflowers and set it on the new kitchen table I’d bought with my own money when Hoss and I were at Hadley’s. Mr. Hadley gave me a discounted price because of a nick on one of the legs, but I didn’t have enough cash to buy two more chairs, and I was forced to bring the porch chairs back inside.

It was five o’clock, and I stood outside the widow Baker’s shop waiting for Lucy’s shift to end. When she walked out the front door, she smiled. She carried a large-sized satchel.

“Ready?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Are you?”

We both started laughing. We’d been married for nearly a month, and we were finally moving into our own place. Not only was I nervous, I could tell by Lucy’s unsteady voice and burst of giddy laughter that this wasn’t a cakewalk for her either. Hop Sing had sent a pot of stew and fresh-baked bread for our first supper together. He’d also baked an extra apple pie and sent one with me before I came to pick up my wife.

“Let’s go,” I said. “Your carriage awaits.”

Before I helped Lucy up, I reached for her satchel and threw it in the back of the buggy, and we were off to our new home together. She hadn’t seen the place but once, back when it was still full of webs and every other piece of trash some passing drifter had left for me to clean up.

I tied Pa’s buggy to the hitch rail in front of the cabin and helped Lucy down. After grabbing her satchel, I remembered the old tradition of carrying the bride over the threshold.

“Wait!”

“What’s the matter, Joe?”

Lucy was about to open the front door when I raced forward. I swept her up in my arms and she was just about to protest when she realized what was happening. She laughed and wrapped her arm around my neck. I pushed the door open and carried my bride inside and, to let in more light, I left the door open behind us.

“Well?” I said. “What do you think?”

“I can’t believe it’s the same place, Joe.”

“Looks pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“It looks … you did all this yourself?”

“Pretty much.”

“You can put me down now.”

Her smile was genuine. She was pleased with my efforts. Lucy took my hand and we walked around the small room together. She touched everything with her fingertips as we passed by each new piece of furniture; at least it was new to my bride.

“This is the bed your Pa bought us?”

“Sure is, and look inside the wardrobe. It will hold all your dresses and whatnots, won’t it?”

“Of course, it will. I never had anything so nice at home. This is beautiful, Joe.” Lucy glanced across the room toward the small table I’d bought at Mr. Hadley’s. “Flowers too?”

“That’s right, and they’re almost as beautiful as my bride.”

She turned and faced me. Lucy was my wife, and I’d never even kissed her. The time had never been right until now. I cupped her face with both hands and leaned forward; I touched my lips to hers. I’m not sure what I expected but when Lucy didn’t kiss me back, I felt funny inside. Had I expected too much, too soon?

“You okay?”

“I don’t know, Joe. Everything you’ve done, all the work you’ve put into this place is—well, it’s wonderful, but something doesn’t feel right. I know we’re married and I know what’s expected but—“

“But what? Be honest with me, Lucy. You always have. Please don’t stop now.”

“Don’t misunderstand what I going to say, Joe, but it needs to be said.”

“Go on.”

“You know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done—this house, our marriage, telling our folks—but I … I can’t be with you in a wife sort of way, not yet. I’m carrying another man’s child, Joe, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, but I know I can’t lie beside you and … you know.”

“I know, but someday …”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

The question I’d never asked seemed a lot more important now. It was something I’d never really thought about before. I only wanted to help my best friend out of a tough situation and I had, but I hadn’t considered all the consequences that might arise. Pa tried to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen. I was too busy planning the next chapter of my life, but the time had come for truths, and I had to ask; I had to know how Lucy felt about the baby’s father.

“You were in love with Evan. Are you still?”

“Joe, please don’t.”

“I have to know, Lucy.”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do and you’ve always been straight with me. No lies, no secrets.”

“Maybe I’m still in love.” She rested her hand on her stomach. “This is Evan’s child, Joe.”

“This is our child,” I said. “I’ll be the baby’s father. Have you already forgotten Evan Carter wanted him dead?”

With piercing eyes, Lucy glared at me. “How can you be so mean, Joe Cartwright?”

“Mean? You’re calling me mean?”

“Just stop. I don’t want to hear any more lies.”

“Lucy, I don’t understand? I’m only repeating what you told me.”

“Maybe I was wrong,” she said. “Maybe I misunderstood.”

I wanted to walk off my anger but the room was so small; there was no way to pace back and forth without knocking into a piece of furniture.

“You were wrong? You misunderstood?” I nearly bit her head off. “My, God, Lucy. Either he said it or he didn’t. Which is it?”

“Just leave me alone, Joe,” she shouted back. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, maybe I do. Maybe I need to know the kind of woman I married. Maybe I don’t know you at all.”

“Maybe you don’t. Maybe this was all a mistake.”

My body trembled. I was so mad; I turned and walked out the front door. I was tempted to grab Pa’s bottle and take it with me, but there wasn’t enough whiskey left to drown out the conversation Lucy and I’d just had. I couldn’t run home to Papa and I couldn’t leave her alone and ride to the nearest saloon. I had to stay and work this out, but I needed time to breathe before I went back inside the cabin. We both need time to think this through.

I pulled the reins from the hitch rail. At least I could stable the horse and put away the buggy, which would give me time to cool down before I went back inside. Blood rushed in my ears and I’d gritted my teeth so hard they hurt. I told myself to calm down, that we’d work it out and find some kind of middle ground that made sense.

What I didn’t understand was how Lucy could still have feelings for a man who’d told her to get rid of the baby. Lucy wasn’t that type of girl; at least I never thought she was. No, I knew for sure she wasn’t. She’d never willingly kill her own child.

I curried the horse longer than necessary simply because I needed time to think, time to rephrase my words to Lucy. I had to come up with a peace offering that would clear the air and see us through to another day. This was no way to start our lives together; it was time to set things straight, time I apologized for upsetting her so. When I walked back inside the cabin, Lucy still wore her bonnet and lightweight shawl. Her satchel sat on the floor just inches from her feet.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “The quarrel was my fault. I never should’ve pressured you for answers.”

Her eyes were red-rimmed. In my absence, she’d been crying but for both our sakes, she kept her emotions in check, as did I. This was new to both of us. Here we were living together, and there would always be issues to discuss and there would always be times we disagreed, but we could do this. Given time, and given all we knew about each other, I knew we could make our marriage work. I took a step forward. Lucy’s whole body tensed. I wasn’t ready for her reaction, but I stood my ground though I hesitated to move any closer.

“Lucy?”

“I can’t live here, Joe. I can’t pretend to be your wife.”

Chapter 2

I sat on the settee inside the ranch house, propped my feet on the table, and drank from another bottle of Pa’s whiskey. I didn’t know which house to call home. There was no food at the cabin, only a couple inches of whiskey left in the bottle Hoss and I had shared and, on an empty stomach, I knew better than to take even one shot.

I hadn’t eaten in two days and I was hungry. I wasn’t much of a cook and, after I returned home, I ate a jar of Hop Sing’s peaches. I hopped up on the countertop and ate until my belly was full. After tending Cochise, I was content to rest my bones on the settee and watch the fire do its nighttime dance. Though I should have felt relaxed and comfortable, I’d never felt so alone.

Pa and my brothers were having the time of their life in San Francisco. Ten days of vacation, ten days of seeing the sights. Pa had invited Hop Sing to tag along so he could visit his relatives, leaving the house totally empty. No crackling fire when I walked through the front door, no sounds of family, but it also gave me time to sort things out and decide how to accept the mess my life had become.

Two days ago, the same day I brought her to the cabin, I’d driven Lucy back to her father’s clapboard house on the edge of town. I’d walked her to the front door and handed her the satchel she’d brought with her to the cabin. With tears in her eyes, she kissed my cheek and said goodbye. Though I hadn’t seen her since, I’d kept myself busy, crossing items off the list Pa left behind. I still lived and worked on the Ponderosa and with my family gone; there was plenty of work to be done.

It was easier just to camp out at the ranch house rather than stay at the cabin anyway. I needed to check the herd in the south pasture, and Hoss had left a stack of shingles Pa wanted replaced on the north side of the bunkhouse. Without Lucy, there was no reason to keep riding back and forth.

I’d checked nine out of ten items off Pa’s list. I’d left the bunkhouse for last. Climbing ladders and standing on roofs with a ninety-degree pitch didn’t always sit well with me, but the job had to be completed, and I only had one day left to finish before the vacationers returned home. I hauled out the supplies and had just begun removing the old shingles when I heard riders circling the barn into the yard. Had I miscalculated the days or had Pa and my brothers returned home a day early?

Even from a distance, I recognized the two men right off. Lucy’s older brothers, Luke and Larry Joe Miller, and though we’d never been friends; in fact, we barely acknowledged each other in passing, I climbed down the ladder, wondering why they’d ridden all the way out to the house. Had something happened to Lucy or the baby or had she reconsidered our marriage vows? Was she ready to try again? The brothers tied their mounts to the hitch rail and met me halfway across the yard.

“Hey, fellas,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Maybe we should take this inside, Cartwright,” Larry, the oldest, said.

“All right.”

He had a gravelly voice and his tone sounded more like a father correcting a child than a fella who wanted to talk man to man, but I led the way, and the two larger men followed me inside. When I turned back to face the brothers after closing the front door, Larry Joe’s iron-like fist plowed into my stomach so hard, I fell to my knees on the wood floor.

What the hell just happened?

Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet. My hand still clutched my midsection when Luke’s right fist crashed into my face, tumbling me sideways against the credenza. Before I could regain my balance, Larry Joe had my arms pulled behind my back and younger brother, Luke, let loose with both fists. He punched at my face and my ribs until his brother let go and I fell back to the floor.

Larry Joe hauled me to my feet and dragged me across the room before dropping me into my father’s chair. The brothers stood in front of me, each sported a wide stance and had their fingers laced in front of them as if they were gearing up for round two.

“What—” I was still trying to catch my breath, but I managed a few simple words. “What’s this all about?” Though I didn’t think my question was cause for laughter, the brothers chuckled anyway. “You find this funny?”

“You ain’t gonna find any of this funny when we’s done with you, boy.”

I looked up at Luke. My head was splitting, but I wouldn’t let on to those two. Something had happened, something more than Lucy moving back home. That was two days ago and nothing was said then, so why the beating now?

“We knows why you married our sister, and we knows why you brought her back home. She ain’t good enough for a Cartwright, is she, Larry Joe?   Just so happens that we don’t take kindly to boys like you.”

“Like me? What’s this all about?”

“He ain’t too bright, is he, Luke? Thought all them Cartwrights was educated folk. Maybe this one didn’t do so good in school. Maybe he’s the dumb sheep of the family.”

Larry’s statement got a laugh out of Luke, and Luke grabbed the front of my shirt. He pulled me toward him and spit in my face.

“That’s what I think of no-good boys like you.”

“Tie his hands, Luke.”

The younger of the two pulled a piece of rope from his back pocket and bent me forward in Pa’s chair.  He made sure the knot was good and tight before he hauled me to my feet.

“What now, brother?”

“No-goods gotta learn lessons the hard way, and this one’s got a lot to learn about doin’ right by women he puts in a family way.  How many, Cartwright?  Just Lucy or is there more you gone and dishonored?”

“What are you talking about?  I never dishonored your sister.”

“String him up here or in the barn, Larry Joe?”

I heard singing, but the ringing in my ears drowned out the words of the hymn-like tune.  Like a chant, the voice droned softly, forming words I couldn’t quite understand.  A cool breeze, as pure as snow—no, a cool rain, cool water.  Was I swimming?  No.  The fire burned hot, and I tried to recoil from each clawing flame.  My arms were thick and heavy. I couldn’t move away from the intensity of the blaze.  My eyes welled with tears but they wouldn’t open, and I searched my mind for the source of the fire. I tried to sink deeper into the cool water.

A new voice, a deeper voice interrupted the sweet song filled with unusual words, and the fire worsened.  I fought the flames.  But the pool was gone, and I pushed myself from the burning ground in an effort to get away.

“Easy, son.”

The voice was my father’s, but his hand pressed me down onto the flames. I tried to cry out. I needed to warn him. The fire was near and we had to run fast to the water.

“Try not to move, Joe. Hop Sing’s gone for fresh water.”

“Water …”

“You thirsty? Lay still, boy. It’ll only be a minute.”

“Water … run …”

“He must be dreamin’, Pa.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Hoss. He’s burning up.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Like what, Adam?”

Visions flashed like bursts of cannon fire, and my mind held me prisoner to past events. I tried to move away; I tried to run. The hand on my shoulder pushed me back down. I cried for help, but my voice was silent.

“Paul’s here, Joseph. He needs to work on your back and shoulders. You’ve got to settle down and let the doctor do his job.”

Like an artist setting paint to canvas, the walls of the barn take shape. A rope, hanging from the tallest rafter, takes center stage, and the helpless young man is strung up by his wrists. His heels are lifted from the ground and he spins like a child’s toy on the toes of his boots.

Using thin strokes of dark ebony, the artist brings to life the cat o’ nine tails. Holding the handle in his right hand, a large man rolls up his sleeve and the whip becomes an extension of his long, muscular arm. The young man becomes captivated as his attacker flicks his wrist and the leather strands slice like sharpened blades through the afternoon air.

Layers of yellow and gold shine through the barn doors. Near-white dust mites dance in an uncertain fashion, and the young man’s eyes focus on the swirling activity the artist has provided and, for a brief moment, he’s taken to another place, another time. He hears, but he doesn’t see the sharp, staccato rhythm as leather tails crack the silence of the late-day air.

His chin is held in place with strong, firm fingers, and he’s forced to meet his attacker’s steely eyes. The buttons are ripped from his shirtfront and the cat o’ nine tails glides up his bare stomach and chest. Fear begins to show. Sweat dots his forehead and his eyes narrow to stay the tears. His attacker is pleased with the results.

Soon, the man holding the whip is out of sight, and a deep voice taunts the young man from behind. He tries to move farther away, but a hand presses down on his shoulder. His shirt is ripped from his back; it hangs lifelessly from his waist, and he shivers. And as his belt buckle is loosened, he closes his eyes. His trousers and drawers drop and cover his boots, but he can’t look down. The dust moots still their fairy-like dance when the cat o’ nine tails strikes a blow against his unprotected back …

“No,” I cried weakly. “No more.”

“I’m doing the best I can, Ben, but some of these cuts are deep and they have to be cleaned and stitched so infection won’t set in.”

“Take it easy, Little Joe. Me and Adam and Pa is here with you now. You’re safe, but you gotta lie still and let Doc fix you up.”

“Hoss?”

“I’m right here, boy. Ain’t no one gonna hurt you no more.”

I tried to relax. Pa brought water to my lips and I drank until he took the glass away. I had a firm grip on the pillow, but my hands soon fell away. I guessed he’d mixed a powder in the water. The air around me felt heavy and the voices tumbled against each other until they went still.

When I woke, I was on fire from my shoulders down to my toes. I struggled to sit up but the movement caused pain, and my head fell back to the pillow. The sun had set and had cast the room in dark shadows. Whispered voices grew louder, and I drank more doctored water from a glass. Then there was silence.

“Good morning, son.”

The voice was my father’s. I didn’t have to move; I only had to open my eyes to find him sitting in a chair in front of me. When a gentle breeze blew through my window, I shivered. Pa stood and pulled the linen sheet up over my shoulders, and when I tried to move my arm, he spoke again.

“Lay still, Joseph.”

“Okay.” But my answer was silence. Words wouldn’t form, but I did as I was told.

“Paul will be by later today. He’s put a lot of stitches in you, and he’ll get after the both of us if you pull any of them out.”

I was tired and I didn’t have enough strength to talk. Even with my eyes closed, I could still see Pa’s face. He looked tired and sad, but the picture of my father slowly distorted; it became the artist’s brush once again.

Stroking the canvas with bright new colors, I watched the young man with his arms stretched high over his head. The layers of yellow light give way to fear and the young man holds his body taut when his attacker’s voices suddenly come to life.

“String ‘im up, Luke. We’ll show him. We’ll make him pay.”

“Couldn’t keep your pants buttoned, could you, boy? Went and spoilt our baby sister, didn’t you?”

“I married your sister. I did the right thing. Why are you doing this to me?”

 “Boys like him earns themselves a good whippin’, don’t they, Larry Joe?”

 “Nasty boys belong on “D” Street. Nasty boys shouldn’t oughta mess with decent girls. Tie his ankles, Luke. I wanna watch him spin.”

“This is for all the misery you caused my sister and her dead baby, Little Joe Cartwright.”

Dead baby?

“Pa!”

“I’m right here, son. Easy now. Don’t try to talk. Shh …”

Pa propped at least three pillows behind my back, and he and Hoss helped me sit up in bed.  I tried to count the days, but I’d lost track somewhere along the way.  I was determined to keep my breathing steady. I didn’t want Pa to know how much I hurt.  He’d worried enough for ten men already.

“How’s that feel?”

“Fine.”

“Think you can eat something?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He turned his attention to Hoss. “Will you tell Hop Sing?”

“Sure will, Pa.  Good to have you back with us, Little Joe.”

I chuckled softly.  “It’s good to be back.  Now, go find me something to eat. I’m starved.”

Hoss winked at Pa and my father smiled down at me. “You had us worried for a while, son.”

“I know; I’m sorry.”

Pa shook his head and smiled.  Had I said something funny?  “Paul still wants you in bed for a few more days.”

“That’s fine by me.”

I could barely sit up.  I didn’t think I’d be breakin’ broncs anytime soon, but I needed to see Lucy as soon as possible.  I wanted her brothers arrested and thrown in Roy’s jail.

“You ready to talk some?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You could start by telling me who did this to you.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize—I mean, who found me?  Did you find me or …”

“Yes, your brothers and I found you.  When we rode in Thursday evening, you were just inside the barn doors.  It appeared you’d try to crawl to the house before you … I assumed you passed out.”

“They cut me down.”

When I saw my father’s face, when he tried to hide the tears, I knew I had to choose my words wisely. Certain elements of the story were better left unsaid. They were memories I’d carry to my grave, but they needn’t be Pa’s memories too.

“When did this happen, Joe?”

“Um … late Wednesday afternoon.”

“Hoss found shingles by the side of the bunkhouse.”

“That’s ‘cause I left the roofing job for last. I’d just started hauling them to the roof when … when they rode into the yard.”

“They?  Who’s they, son?”

“Um … Luke and Larry Joe Miller.”

“Luke and Larry Joe?” Pa repeated. “Why in the world?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have plenty of time.”

I pushed myself up a little taller in the bed, and Pa jumped up from his chair to straighten the pillows behind me. I thanked him, but part of adjusting had been stalling for time. Even though Pa knew why Lucy and I’d been married so quickly, her brothers and her father weren’t privy to our little secret. We should have told the whole story when they’d come to supper, but it’s easy to second-guess noble intentions after the fact.

“Pa?” Hoss called from downstairs. “Sheriff’s here to see Little Joe.”

Pa looked at me. “You up to talking to Roy?”

“You bet I am.”

Roy’s eyes widened like marbles when he walked in and saw the bandages covering ninety percent of my body. Strips of white cloth were wrapped around my chest and shoulders and down my arms and legs. The only real skin showing was my hands, feet, and bruised face. Roy quickly settled back into sheriff mode, and he made no comment. He took out a notebook and pencil and I started my story.

Without giving every detail, I told Pa and Sheriff Coffee what I wanted them to know. Who, when, where, and why. I asked Roy to be discreet about the why, and he promised he would. I wanted the brothers locked up, but I wanted no harm to come to Lucy. The telling was over. I’d made it through the story in one shot, and then Roy took the wind from my sails.

“This ain’t what you wanna hear, Joe,” Roy said hesitantly, “but it’s your word against Luke and Larry Joe’s.”

“But I’m telling the truth.”

“I never said you weren’t, son. I’m just sayin’ that with no eyewitness, I got my work cut out for me.”

“You’ll at least talk to them, right?”

“I’ll head over there right now but you know as well as I, they’ll deny everything they done.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled to myself. I glared at the sheriff. “If the law can’t handle the Miller boys, I will.”

“Joe,” Pa cautioned.

“You leave the law to me, Little Joe Cartwright. Make sure he stays here, Ben. I don’t want more problems, you hear?”

“Joe’s not going anywhere, Roy.”

Not for a couple of days but what then, Pa? What then, Roy? I’m supposed to forget about all this? I’m supposed to let it go? This ain’t over; not by a long shot. I glanced at the sheriff, and I wondered if he could read my thoughts? Could he tell what I was thinking just by the set of my jaw? Had my steady gaze at nothing in particular given me away?

The sheriff turned to leave, but I caught the look he gave my father. It was a solid warning. Keep the boy here or else. I’d seen the look before. I’d seen it many times from my own father, and this time the sheriff wasn’t taking any chances. He knew Pa wouldn’t let him down.

I’d had enough. I’d told the story and I was tired. The pain was nothing more than a constant reminder of my time strung up in the barn like a side of beef. The laudanum Doc left with Pa only dulled my senses and gave me cottonmouth. Nothing alleviated the throbbing and endless burning sensation from my neck down past my knees.

“I’d like to be alone, Pa.”

“You sure? I can stay right here until you fall asleep.”

“No, I’m sure.”

Pa pulled the bedroom door closed behind him, and I was alone for the first time in days. I moved slowly off the bed. I needed to know if I could still walk. I needed to know how much strength I had. I looked a sight. A pair of cutoff long johns gave me a trace of dignity. I ran my hands along the outer edge of the mattress until I could stand up straight. The remaining stitches pulled tight, but I figured they were due to come out soon anyway.

I crossed the room to my window and looked down at the barn. How long before the memories would fade? Days? Months? Never? But that wasn’t all I had to deal with. Lucy’s baby was dead. Our marriage had no meaning, no chance of survival. Though Pa hadn’t said a word about the baby or Lucy, Roy hadn’t either when I’d led them through the story. Not that I expected anything from the sheriff, but I was surprised Pa hadn’t questioned me further. Lucy and I hadn’t married for love and Pa was well aware, but he’d made no comment so far.

The sky held heavy, dark clouds; a storm was on its way. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Not that I was going anywhere soon, yet I was dwelling on the changing weather rather than contemplating my future with Lucy. I held the window frame to steady myself. Tears threatened but I blinked them away. The child was dead, no one’s fault, no way to prevent these things from happening, but still. I felt a loss.

No baby, no marriage. Simple. I’d move my things back to the ranch house and be done with the whole pretense. Simple. I’d erase the entire month from my memory and move on with my life just like Lucy would move on with hers. Both our lives would become simple once again.

“Joe?”

“What—” My answer was short and sharp.

“Am I botherin’ you?”

I kept my eyes on the changing sky.

“Ain’t you s’posed to be in bed?”

I turned to face my brother. “What do you want?”

Hoss crossed the room. Like always, he dug his hands into his pockets when he was nervous and had to search for the right words to say.

“Just came up to check on you.”

“Pa send you?”

“No. I’s worried about you, Joe.”

“Me? Oh, I’m fine, brother. Just fine.”

My tone was harsh, and Hoss didn’t deserve my misplaced anger, but I didn’t want to talk anymore. I was talked out.

“You’re hurtin’ real bad, ain’t you?”

“Why’d you come up here, Hoss?”

“You know.”

I refrained from shrugging my shoulders. “I do? I’m a mind reader now?”

“Cut it out, Joe. You know what I mean. It ain’t just about the whippin’. What about Lucy.”

“Baby’s gone, Hoss.”

“I know and I’m sorry, Joe, but what happens to Lucy now?”

“What about her?” I couldn’t hide my anger. “She left me. She wanted no part of a pretend marriage. She as much as told me the first day I took her to the cabin that she wanted out.”

“So that’s why you wasn’t with her when she lost the baby.”

I turned back to the window. I couldn’t look at Hoss. I didn’t need to be reminded of what might have been. Could I have saved the child if we’d been together? Could I have gotten Doc Martin to the cabin in time?

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

“Water under the bridge, brother.”

“No, it ain’t. I know how much you cared for that little gal. I know you’re hurtin’ and I just wanted to know if there’s anythin’ I could do to help.”

“Nothing anyone can do now. It’s over and done with.”

“Pa ain’t slept for days,” Hoss confessed. “He’s awful worried ‘bout you, Joe.”

“He shouldn’t be. He should be happy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because!” I nearly shouted. “The baby’s dead. The marriage is over. The Miller boys beat me half to death because they think I’m the father. Let them think what they want. Let everyone think what they want. I don’t care anymore. I tried to make things right and look at me now.”

I started across the room. I walked stiff-legged; the deeper cuts were still swollen and tender and hurt when I moved. Standing at the window had taken all the energy I had for one day, and when I tried to reach for the bedpost, Hoss leaped forward and caught me before I fell flat on my face. He literally picked me up and set me in the center of the bed, propping my back against the stack of pillows behind me.

“I’ll leave you be, Joe, but you call if you need me, ya hear?”

“Thanks, Hoss. Sorry I snapped. It’s just—“

“I know. It’s okay.”

“Coffee?”

Pa filled both our cups and moved the cream and sugar within my reach. Today was my first day out of bed and I was given the “okay” to join the living. Doc had been out earlier in the day. He’d removed some of the bandages, and I was able to dress in normal clothes for the first time in a week.

“You look better this morning, Joe.”

“I feel better,” I said. I turned toward the front door when I heard a knock. “You expecting company?”

“No. You?”

“Funny, Pa.”

Letting Pa get up and answer the door, I remained at the dining room table, doctoring my coffee. Our unexpected visitor was Lucy and after a friendly greeting, Pa asked her to come inside. My stomach fluttered—the butterflies were in fighting mode—and I swallowed back my unease. What did I have to be afraid of? This was silly, wasn’t it?”

“Hello, Joe.”

“Lucy,” I said cautiously. I knew it was wrong of me, but I didn’t stand from my chair. I didn’t want her to see me in pain. “Won’t you have a seat?”

I could tell she was nervous. It must have been difficult for her to drive out to the ranch after all that happened, and she opted to remain standing. She steadied her hands on the back of a dining room chair.

“I didn’t know, Joe. I just found out what my brothers did to you. The sheriff … Joe, I had no idea they thought the baby was—that they’d do something like that. I know, saying I’m sorry won’t help, but what else can I say?”

“Little late for apologies, isn’t it?”

Lucy glanced at my father. Pa cleared his throat. “I have some business upstairs. If you two will excuse me?”

She waited for Pa to leave before she took the seat across from me. She carried a small black bag and she fingered the pull strings as she thought of what to say next.

“I didn’t know until this morning what my brothers had done. Can you ever forgive them? Can you forgive me or my family?“

“Why didn’t you tell them the truth, Lucy?”

“I couldn’t, Joe. I couldn’t tell anyone but you. You know that. I was scared. I never should’ve left you … Oh, Joe, I don’t know anything anymore.”

Lucy started to come around the table but she stopped at the next available chair. I hadn’t said another word. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to lie and tell her I forgave her brothers for nearly killing me? Should I tell her it was no big deal that I laid on the barn floor all night and all day without a shirt to keep me warm and with my pants knotted around my ankles? Should I tell her how I’d pulled myself along the barn floor and ripped the deeper cuts even more? What did she want from me?

“They thought we’d had a fight and that you’d brought me back home to live. When I couldn’t tell anyone the real reason, everyone assumed the worst. They figured I wasn’t good enough for a Cartwright and that you’d changed your mind about the marriage. How could I say anything different, Joe?”

“You should’ve told them, Lucy.”

She reached for my hand; tears slid down her cheeks until I pulled her toward me and immediately, her arms went around my neck. I flinched at her touch. Though the marks and the remaining bandages didn’t show, I wasn’t completely healed and when my breathing hitched in my chest, it was too late. The damage was done and Lucy pulled away.

“It’s nothing,” I said, but I’m not sure she understood.

“If you want me to leave just say so.”

“It’s not that, Lucy.”

“Then what? I only came to apologize and you act like … like you don’t want me here at all.”

“I’m just a little sore,” I said.

“I thought you’d be better by now.”

“I am. I said it was nothing.”

“The sheriff arrested my brothers.”

“Good.”

The word blurted out before I could stop myself. I never meant to hurt Lucy, but I was pleased the sheriff was doing his job. Maybe justice would be served after all.

“I can’t believe you said that.”

“You don’t think Luke and Larry should pay for what they’ve done? Is that it?” Tempers ran high, but I couldn’t lie to Lucy. I’d never lied to her before and I couldn’t change the way we operated now. “Do you realize your brothers nearly killed me?

“That’s not true, Joe.”

“Not true?”

I was so damn mad I did the unthinkable. I unbuttoned my shirt and stood from my chair. I slipped my shirt from my shoulders and turned slowly so she could see my chest and back.

“Oh, my God.”

Her hands flew to her mouth. She turned away and I pulled my shirt back on and fastened the buttons. “You’re brothers can rot in jail for all I care. The sheriff is only doing what’s right.”

“No … “

“Listen, Lucy.” I used my calm voice—my indoor voice—as Pa used to call it when I was a boy. “The baby’s gone. The marriage is over. We’ll see a judge and make it final as soon as I’m able to ride.”

The front door slammed shut. Lucy was gone, and I looked up when I heard Pa coming down the stairs. I sat back down on my chair and waited for the questions to begin.

“I’m sorry, Joe.”

“What?” That wasn’t what I expected him to say.

“Let it go, son. There’s nothing to be gained by—“

“You overheard?” I said.

“Some, not all.”

“The world’s a funny place, Pa. I don’t think I’ll ever understand anything anymore.”

Pa reached for my shoulder and then pulled his hand back. It was a common gesture on his part until the image of my back and shoulders reminded him not to touch.

“This too shall pass,” he said softly.

Chapter 3

“Three beers, Cosmo.”

“You buying, Hoss?”

“I got the first round and you got the next, little brother. Ain’t that right, Adam?”

“Sounds fine to me.”

It felt good to be out of the house. This was my first trip to town since the day I’d picked Lucy up from work and assumed we were moving into our new home to live happily ever after. It’s funny how life can take a sudden turn and spin so far out of control. The past was the past and it was time to move on. Lucy and I would see a judge on Monday and end our marriage.

“Hey, Little Joe.”

I turned toward the voice. “Hey, Seth. What’s up?”

My longtime friend laughed. “There are some crazy rumors goin’ ‘round town, Little Joe.”

“Yeah?”

“People’s sayin’ you got yourself hitched to Lucy Miller.”

“That’s crazy. Who’s saying that?”

“I don’t know. People.”

“Well, just forget it. Rumors get started all the time. That don’t mean they’re true.”

“Guess you’re right. Besides, no Cartwright would get married without pullin’ off some fancy shindig and inviting the whole county, right?

“That’s right.” I looped my arm over Seth’s shoulder. “Come on. I’ll buy you a beer.”

I hadn’t told a soul and I wondered who’d opened their big, fat mouth. The brothers? Lucy? Mr. Miller? Hoss and Adam were shaking their heads. They’d overheard me talking to Seth, but they’d never betray me and set him straight. I was hoping to have the marriage annulled and no one would be the wiser. At least, that was the plan until Sheriff Coffee walked into the saloon and stepped up behind Seth and me and my brothers.

“Need to talk to you, Little Joe. Somethin’s happened and I think you should be one of the first to know.”

“Me?”

“Let’s go down to my office, son.”

I slid my half-empty mug toward Seth. “Here,” I said. “Guess you’ll have to finish this for me.”

I glanced at Hoss and Adam. They tilted their mugs and finished their drinks. Without question, I knew they’d follow Roy and me to the jail.

“Have a seat, fellas.”

I sat down in front of Roy’s desk, but my brothers remained standing.

“What’s this all about, Sheriff?”

“I got bad news, Little Joe. I got two dead people on my hands and I hoped maybe you could help me understand what went on.”

“You think I can help? I don’t understand.”

“You will, son.”

My brothers moved in closer. I could sense both of them at my back.

“Far as I can tell, there’s been a murder and a suicide.”

I glanced over my shoulder and back to Roy. “Who?”

“I believe you know Evan Carter.”

“Yeah.”

“And I believe you’re a special friend of Lucy Miller’s.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Adam’s.

“Go on,” I said after swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Evan Carter was shot point-blank in the chest. Doc said he died instantly.”

“And Lucy?” I asked.

“I’m sorry, Little Joe. Lucy’s dead too.”

“Where are they now?”

Roy shook his head. “Let’s leave the dead to rest. No need for you to see either of them in the condition they’s in.”

“Where are they, Roy?” I said louder this time.

Roy glanced up at my brothers. “Doc Martin’s.”

I stood from my chair, but Hoss blocked me from leaving the sheriff’s office. “You heard Roy, Little Joe.”

“Lucy’s my wife. Doesn’t that give me the right?”

Hoss looked to Adam. Adam nodded his head and the three of us started down the boardwalk to Paul Martin’s office.

“I don’t need no handholding,” I said.

There wasn’t an answer from either brother, but that didn’t stop them from staying close to my heels. I opened Paul’s front door and turned to Hoss and Adam. “I can handle this alone.”

Adam held Hoss’ arm. “We’re here if you need us,” he said.

Paul met me just inside the door. He pulled me into his office and set me down in a chair before moving to sit behind his desk. He reached for a bottle of whiskey and poured two glasses; he pushed one toward me.

“I guess you heard, and I’m sorry, son. There was nothing I could do for either of them.”

I downed the shot and covered the glass with the palm of my hand. “May I see Lucy?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Why? She was a good friend.”

“I know she was, Joe, and that’s why I’m saying no. Remember her as the pretty young girl you’ve known most of your life.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

“It’s for the best, Joe.”

“You know about us, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Does everybody?”

“I can’t answer that, but I’ve sent word to her Pa. He’ll be here soon.”

“And you’ll let him see her, right?”

“Not if I can help it. Lucy held the gun in her mouth, Joe. There’s not much left and what remains, I’d rather you didn’t see.”

I swallowed hard. Tears blurred my eyes and I looked away from Paul. I tried not to picture Lucy, but her face was gone and in its place, the images became dark and unforgiving, a cluttered mess of blood and flesh and bone.

“Let me know when the service will be.”

“I will.”

I pushed up from my chair. The doc did too and he walked me to the front door. He looked down at Hoss and Adam who stood patiently on the boardwalk.

“Take him home, boys.”

It stormed the morning of the service. My prediction of rain a few days ago never came true. The clouds didn’t burst open until today, but funerals were like that. Dreary and cold. Enough rain to wash away tears so no one knew how deeply any particular mourner felt when they laid the dead to rest.

I had no tears that day. My eyes remained dry even through the circuit preacher’s memorized words hit hard and ran deep through my soul. Lucy and Evan were dead. Their baby was dead too, and I wondered if that’s how it was supposed to be. The three of them together for eternity. Maybe that was God’s plan after all.

Pa and I had come to the cemetery in the buggy; Hoss and Adam rode alongside and left when the service was over. I stayed by Lucy’s grave to pay my own personal respects, to say a silent goodbye but I wasn’t alone. Luke and Larry Joe were soon at my side. Roy had let them out of jail to attend their sister’s service.

“Awful sorry, Little Joe,” Luke, the younger one, said. The one who’d stood at his brother’s side as Larry tore flesh from my body.

“We didn’t know the whole story till it was too late. If there’s anything my brother and I can do to make it up to you, you just name it, Little Joe.”

“It’s over and done with. Nothing matters anymore so just forget it. I’ll drop all charges.”

I turned from the grave and walked toward Pa where he stood beside the buggy. His hands were clasped in front of him. His coat was buttoned. Even though it was nearing June, the morning air had a chill that went straight through a man’s bones.

“Ready to go?”

“Sure,” I said. “I’m done here.”

Pa and I rode in silence. He took the reins and when he veered off the main road, I barely paid attention. My mind was elsewhere. I didn’t want to talk, and Pa knew that. He’d kept his thoughts to himself until he stopped the buggy and I realized where we were. I looked at him questioningly.

“Thought you might need someone else to talk to.”

“You know me well, Pa.”

“I should. You’re my flesh and blood.”

I nodded and jumped down from the buggy. Pa remained seated. This was my time with Mama. I could say anything I wanted without a care in the world. I walked down the path leading to her grave. I knelt down on one knee, brushed away a few wet leaves, and removed my hat. The rain had stopped. A rainbow had formed on the horizon and I talked in a whispered voice to my mother.

“Pa knows me well.  He brought me here, but you probably already knew that. I lost a dear friend today. She took her own life and I can’t help but feel I was partly to blame. I said some unkind things to her, things I should’ve kept to myself but I mouthed off when I should have kept silent. I’ll never know, but I’ll always feel partly to blame for Lucy’s death.

“But that’s not the whole truth.  Lucy was my wife.  I’m a widower now.  We weren’t married long; in fact, we’d never … I was never even with her.  It’s a long story and I won’t bother you with the details, but it always helps to talk.

“I still miss you.  We all do, especially at times like these, but I know you’ll always be here to listen to a son who needs to talk.  I’ll be going now.  Pa’s waiting.  We’ll talk again soon.”

I climbed back in the buggy, and Pa gave me one of his knowing looks. Would I have acted the same as my pa if “our” son had lived?  In my mind, I’d painted a picture of a happy family.  Ma and Pa and our children living happily ever after, but the canvas would remain blank. The picture would never be painted.

“Everything okay?”

“Better,” I said. “Let’s go home.”

A letter arrived in the post. It was addressed to me by Lucy’s father.

It read:

To Joseph Cartwright,

 I couldn’t tell you this face-to-face so the letter will have to do.

Something I find hard to talk about happened to my daughter’s mind over last few weeks. Doc called it melancholy and quoted the medical journals saying it was a disturbance of the soul due to moral conflict. I’m not sure what all that means, but I know my Lucy changed and it weren’t for the good. I don’t know much about doctor talk, but Doc Martin said Lucy had all the signs and symptoms.

I know what you done and why, Little Joe, and I’d have been proud to call you my son-in-law. I was just getting used to the idea of you two being married when Lucy come back home. She stayed in her room. Didn’t never come out. Then, one night, she cried out. Said she lost the baby.

That’s when my sons took the law into their own hands and did you wrong. I can’t make up for what my boys done, but whilst they was hurtin you, Lucy confessed she’d been with the Carter boy and got herself in the family way, and that’s when you offered to make an honest woman of her. That was right kind of you, Joe, and I’ll always be thankful you cared enough about my daughter to help her out like you done.

Don’t know whether I should tell you or not, but I feel you should know everything that happened. My daughter kilt her own baby. I guess it was the melancholy what made her do such a terrible thing. She got worse after that. I didn’t know nothin’ about her wanting to end her own life or kill young Carter. I swear that on my own mama’s grave.

That’s about all I gots to say. I know you thought good about my daughter, maybe you even loved her. You can’t put none of this sorrow onto yourself. It weren’t your doing what made her mind go in that direction. God sees to them what can’t do for themselves. I guess that’s why God took my Lucy and her baby away.

 Sincerely,

Frank Miller

~

Pa stood close by while I read Mr. Miller’s letter. I started to fold it up, but I handed it to my father instead. His eyes questioned my intent and I nodded my head.

“You might as well read it too.”

I crossed the room and sat down on the settee. I had a touch of melancholy myself only I knew my symptoms were only temporary, not like the sickness that had come over Lucy. When Pa finished reading, he sat down beside me, and his arm came around my shoulders. I almost caved into my emotions.

“I’m sorry, son.”

“Me too. Sometimes, I think it might have worked. You know, the whole family thing.”

Without seeing his face, I knew my father was smiling.

“Never give up hope, Little Joe. You’ve been to hell and back, but you’re a survivor. Love will come your way again and next time, things will be different.”

“I didn’t love her, Pa.”

“I know.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Joseph, you’re young, and your life’s only beginning. Don’t let a tragedy like this ruin the rest of your days.”

“I know what you’re saying, Pa, but how do you let go of the past? How did you move forward? How did you bury three wives and still—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Pa’s grip tightened on my shoulder.

“Somehow, we’re made stronger, son. You’ll see.” Pa’s voice suddenly lightened. “Which reminds me.”

“Of what?”

“We have all that timber to cut for Harry Jenkins’ new hotel out in San Francisco, but at the end of the summer, we have guests coming to visit. Someone you might remember from a long time ago.”

“Oh, yeah? Who’s that?”

“Captain White and his daughter Laura.  Do you remember them?”

“Sure I do.  Laura and I used to make mud pies. She was a cute kid.”

“Which means she might be a cute young lady now.”

“You trying to get my mind off that letter?”

“What do you think?”

I chuckled. It felt good to see the light, to know I’d come through the long, dark tunnel, that the rocks and boulders were behind me, and I’d reached a clearing on the other side.

“Thanks, Pa.”

“You’re welcome, son. Now—“ Pa said, clapping me on the back. “Let’s go join your brothers and cut down some timber.”

The End

6-2015

To Slay the Dragon

by jfclover

Chapter 1

Some would say I grew up privileged.  My father owned land.  He had diverse holdings, mines, cattle, timber, etc., and that alone set us apart from most men who lived in Storey County.  My brother had gone to college.  Hoss and I had been given the opportunity to better ourselves—as Adam put it—but we were content to leave all that fancy learning to older brother.  We’d better ourselves by working hard at what we knew best, and the Ponderosa meant everything to Hoss and me.

My best friend Martin and I grew up in households with few parallels other than he had an older brother who pestered him the same way mine pestered me.  Because of his father’s love for the bottle, some would say he grew up more disadvantaged than most.  Quitting school long before I did, he worked at the Yellow Jacket alongside his older brother, Oren.  Mining was a hard life, and I didn’t envy him having to haul rock out of mineshafts for twelve hours a day when we were still boys, yet, despite our differences, we’d always remained friends.

We fished and swam.  We climbed towering rocks and rode like the wind through open valleys.  We brushed the edges of Indian burial grounds but never crossed the line that would’ve gotten us killed.  We scrounged through empty line shacks and rode too far from home in search of sun-bleached bones.  What one of us didn’t think of the other did.  We both loved venturing into the unknown.

By the time I was out of school and working the ranch, Martin still worked in the mine, but we’d moved on to new games and adventures.  A beer on Saturday night, maybe a friendly game of cards or betting two bits on who could catch the eye of a pretty, young saloon girl first.  We challenged each other in ways that made us stronger and more thoughtful than we would’ve been otherwise.  Not that everyone would agree, but at twenty-one and twenty-two, we were still best friends.

When the westbound stage pulled up at the depot, Martin and I were heading to the Silver Dollar, and I stopped him from crossing the street.  “Hey,” I said.  “Hold on a minute.  Let’s see who gets off.”

“You expectin’ someone?”

“No.”

“Lookin’ for card sharps?”

“No, that’s the sheriff’s job.”

“What then?”

“Don’t you mean who?”

Martin was a shy sort, and we each saw women in a different light.  While I thought ahead to the next barn dance, Martin never gave socializing a second thought.

Martin punched my arm.  “Don’t get smart with me, Joseph.  Who’d you expect to see?”

“One never knows.”

Ever since we were kids in school and Miss Jones decided “Little Joseph” would get my attention, Martin has used my full name.  As a kid, I thought he was making fun, but it was just his way.  He was different than other boys.  He was a tall kid, lanky, with a head of unruly white-blonde hair.  His eyes were as pale as the moon, and kids made fun.  Called him the ghost.  “Watch out for the ghost,” they’d say.  “Don’t get too near the ghost,” but I defended my friend.

“Come on,” I said.  “It’ll just take a minute.”

With his hands clasped behind his back, Roy Coffee stood on the boardwalk as we approached the depot.  “Hi, Little Joe, Martin.  What are you boys up to?”

“Wanted to see who got off the stage.”

“You expectin’ someone?”

“No.  Just passing time.”

Roy looked up at Martin, who towered over the two of us.  He was as tall as Hoss only my brother outweighed him by a mile.  “How’s your Pa gettin’ on, son?”

Everyone in town knew Eli Sears was a drunk who cared nothing about supporting his family.  Any money that came in always ended up in his hands and was gone the same day.  The drink made him sour and disagreeable, and an embarrassment to the family.

“He ain’t dead if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m sorry.  I know how hard it’s been for you boys.  Give your ma my best, will you?”

“Sure will, Sheriff.”

I could read Martin’s face, and without thinking things through, Roy had mentioned the one thing Martin didn’t care to discuss.  He never talked about his home life.  I knew how things were—the whole town knew.  Eli Sears was a miserable human being, and Martin had lived with the humiliation for years.

When a young woman popped her head out the stage window, I was glad we’d made the effort.  “Welcome to Virginia City,” Roy said after taking her hand and helping her down the wooden step to the boardwalk.

“Thank you, Sheriff.”

“Have you ever visited our fair city before?”

“Yes, but it’s been a few years.”  Although I didn’t recognize the lady, my ears perked when she said she’d been here before.  “I traveled here with my father about ten years ago.  Maybe you remember him … the Reverend Mayer.

“I wasn’t sheriffin’ then,” Roy said, “but welcome back to Virginia City.”

“Thank you.  I won’t be staying long, though.  Just a few days.”

“Let me introduce you to two of our finest citizens.  This here’s Little Joe Cartwright, and this tall drink-a-water is Martin Sears.”

I stepped forward and reached for the lady’s hand.  “Just Joe, ma’am.”

“Hello, Joe.”

Martin stepped forward and offered his hand.

She bobbed her head politely.  “Martin.”

“And you are?”  I asked.

She brushed the dust off the shoulders of her traveling suit.  “Pauline,” she said, “although I’m better known as Reverend Mayer’s daughter.  Or, better yet, a dusty traveler in need of a clean suit of clothes.”

“Is your father traveling with you?”  The young lady hesitated, and I realized how presumptuous my question had been.  “My apologies, Miss Mayer.  I didn’t mean to pry.”  Even though she smiled, I felt like a fool for asking.

“Father is still touring California, but we’ll meet up again.  Can you recommend a good hotel?”

I glanced up at Martin before I answered.  “The International is the best in town.”

Jerry Jenkins, the toothless stage driver, had unloaded everyone’s bags, and a large pile set next to Miss Mayer.  “We’d be glad to carry your bags and show you the way.”

“That’s very kind, gentlemen.”

The woman had three carpetbags.  I handed two to Martin before I picked up the smallest and took the lady’s arm.  “Right this way.”

Chapter 2

“Can I ask you a favor, Little Joe?”

“Sure, Miss Daisy.  What do you need?”

I drove into town for supplies a couple of weeks after Martin and I had met the stage and Miss Mayer, and I stopped by Daisy’s Café for lunch before driving back home.  With roundup and the cattle drive coming up, Hop Sing had asked for extra rations of everything.

“Well, there’s a young woman that comes in every Saturday for lunch.  The poor girl doesn’t know anyone in town, and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind—well, you know.  Maybe a picnic or dinner?”

“Slow down, Daisy.  Who’s the girl?”

“Her name is Pauline Mayer, and she’s very striking, Little Joe.  She’s got beautiful dark hair and she—”

“Hold on,” I said, raising my hand.  “I met her when she got off the stage; Roy introduced us, but is that considered a proper introduction?  I mean is it enough to ask a woman out to supper?”

I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but I wasn’t excited about the prospect either.  I’d had my eye on Sally Ann Wilson for the last couple of weeks and thought I might ask her to the Saturday night dance.  Besides, I wasn’t that taken with Miss Mayer.

“She works for the Lucent’s during the day, Little Joe, and she takes in sewing in her spare time, but I don’t think she ever gets out.  At least not on a real date with a handsome young man like you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Miss Daisy, but I can’t just knock on her door and say, ‘Hi, remember me?  Let’s go to dinner.’”

“No, that wouldn’t be right at all, but you could stop in here for lunch next Saturday, and I’ll be in charge of a second introduction.”

“You like this girl, Daisy?”

“Very much.  She’s kind and has good manners, oh, and did I mention she’s pretty too.  She has lovely dark hair and big brown eyes.  She’s a catch, Little Joe.  She’s a real catch.”

Matchmaker Daisy.  How could I turn her down?  “I’ll be here Saturday at noon.”

Chapter 3

Two days later, I rode back to Virginia City to be re-introduced to Miss Mayer.  I tied Cooch outside the café and finger-combed my hair before I stepped inside.  Pa wasn’t at all happy that I’d given up an entire Saturday when we were so busy out at the ranch, but he knew how persuasive Miss Daisy could be.

Pauline Mayer was already seated, conveniently at a back table, and away from prying eyes.  Daisy scurried across the eatery when I walked in.  “Little Joe,” she said as if surprised to see me.  “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

I followed her to Miss Mayer’s table and introductions were made.

“Joe,” Pauline said.  “How nice to see you again.”

“And you, Miss Mayer.”

“Please call me Pauline.  Would you care to sit down?  I haven’t had a chance to order yet, and I’d love the company.”

I took a seat next to the dark-haired girl.  She seemed a little friendlier than our first meeting, but she was no Sally Ann Wilson.

“Are you enjoying Virginia City so far?”

“Well, I’ve extended my stay.  I have a job now, and I moved into a wonderful boarding house.  Maybe you know the place.  The Widow Hawkins’?”

“She’s quite a gal … the widow, I mean.”

“Oh, she’s just a hoot, isn’t she?  I find her very entertaining.”

“That, she is.”

I ordered the “special” and Pauline ordered a fruit salad that wouldn’t fill a bird.  We made small talk until I got up enough nerve to ask her to supper.  I’d already told her about the Ponderosa, that we were ranchers and lived west of town.  I’d mentioned my brothers and Pa and that we had a cattle drive coming up soon, but I’d run out of anything more to say.

“Would you consider having dinner with me?”

“Dinner?  I don’t know if I should … I mean I usually don’t go out with men my father hasn’t approved.”

“I’m a pretty decent fella.  How about Miss Daisy?  She’ll vouch for me.”

“No need.  I’d be delighted.

“Tomorrow night at seven?”

“On the Sabbath?”

“Oh, that’s right.  How about Monday night.”

“Will your friend be joining us?”

My friend?  “Oh, Martin?  Um, no, it’ll just be the two of us.”

“Okay.  That sounds lovely.”

“Good.  I’ll see you tomorrow … I mean Monday.”

As I retrieved my horse, I thought about our conversation.  Why in the world would I bring Martin on a dinner date?  Was she more interested in him than me?  Would she rather be dining with the shyest man on the planet, a man who became tongue-tied every time a woman looked his way?

Chapter 4

“Why you takin’ a bath, little brother?  You know it’s Monday, right?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” —and not that I was thrilled over the prospect— “but I have dinner plans in town.”

“Oh yeah?”  Hoss pulled a chair next to the copper tub.

“Do you mind?”  Why couldn’t I have five minutes of privacy?  I wasn’t even safe in the bathhouse.

“Who’s the girl?”

“You don’t know her.”

“So … who’s the girl?”

“Pauline Mayer.  She’s new in town.”  I dunked my soapy head and sputtered lukewarm bath water when I popped back up.  “Clean as a whistle.”

“New girl in town, you say.”  Hoss scratched his thinning hair.  “All them Virginia City gals know you too well?  Gotta make a fresh start?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Who me?”

“Get out!”  I grabbed the soapy sponge and hurled it at Hoss’ backside as he flew out the bathhouse door.

Dressed in my Sunday best, I knocked on the widow Hawkins’ front door.  I tried to relax.  I didn’t even like the girl and taking a woman out for the first time was always a bit awkward.  God knows I wasn’t a schoolboy, and God knows she wasn’t the first woman I’d ever asked out to dinner, but I was jittery inside.  You owe me, Miss Daisy.  You owe me big.

I wasn’t sure why, but I hadn’t been this nervous since I sat my first bronc.  I’d begged Pa for months, and the answer was always no.  My mother’s death had been part of his worry, but other boys my age had been doing the job for months.

Pa let Hoss bust his first bronc when he was twelve years old.  I was going on fourteen and had yet to sit on the back of a wild one.  It took both my brothers to convince my father to let me try my hand.

“We’ll be right there with him,” Adam said.

“We won’t let nothin’ happen to him, Pa.  He’s a might sturdier than you think,” Hoss added.

“You can’t guarantee his safety, can you?  I won’t put that boy on the back of a horse just so he can …”

“Pa—” Adam tried again.  “You can’t think that way.  Joe isn’t Marie.  You have to give him a certain amount of rein or he’ll always be a boy.  He needs to prove he’s a man.”

“By getting himself killed?”

I listened from the top of the stairs.  I should’ve been in bed, but voices carried, and I heard every word that was said.  When Hoss and Adam turned their backs and left the discussion behind, I knew it was over, and it would be another six months or more before they tried again.  They’d done their best, but nothing they said would sway Pa’s thinking.

“You’re right.”

My ears perked.

“Make sure you don’t put him on the fiercest animal in the corral.  And don’t you dare give him one that’s already been ridden.”

Hoss looked at Adam.  His grin took up most of his face.  “You gonna tell him, or should I?”

“Let Pa, Hoss.  It wasn’t our decision to make.”

“Joe.”  She swung the door wide open and broke my train of thought.  “You’re right on time.”

One look at Pauline and all my worries were over.  She looked lovely, and her smile told me I’d been all worked up for nothing.  We were in for a grand night.  Dinner by candlelight or was that too much for a preacher’s daughter?  Should I rethink my plans?

“Miss Pauline,” I said.  “You look lovely tonight.”

“So formal?”

I chuckled.  “I’m sorry.  I have reservations at a nice, little French restaurant called Pierre’s.  I hope you’ll be impressed by the cuisine in our dusty little town.”

“I’m sure I will.”

I didn’t usually go overboard on a first date, but I felt compelled to show her the best Virginia City had to offer.  With all that traveling under her belt, I didn’t want her to think I was just a dirty, sweaty cowpoke who worked my fingers to the bone on a ranch.  Even though dinner would cost half a month’s wages, I was willing to live with the sacrifice.

“Shall we be on our way?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Since Pierre’s was just a block down the street from the boarding house, we walked.  I didn’t offer her my hand, but I stuck close by her side until I opened the door of the restaurant.

“May I take your wrap, Mademoiselle?”

“Thank you.”  She handed Pierre her cape, and he seated her across from me at his finest, candlelit table.  A French-worded menu of Pierre’s five specialties draped the dinner plate.

Pauline didn’t pick up the menu.

“Would you like a bottle of our best Bordeaux, Monsieur?”

“Yes, we would, Pierre.”  I glanced at Pauline.  “May I order for the two of us?”

She seemed to hesitate and then a smile broke through.  “Certainly.”

“Would you bring us two steaks, medium rare, with all the fixings?”

“Excellent choice, Joseph.”

I wasn’t taking any chances on a menu I couldn’t read; besides, the Ponderosa had supplied Pierre with beef for the last three years.  Steaks were a safe bet.

“Steak, as in beef?”  Pauline seemed worried.

Odd question.  “You’re gonna love Pierre’s food.  Pure Ponderosa beef.”

“I see.”

“Best in all of Nevada.”

Pauline picked up the linen napkin and unfolded it in her lap.  “And you’re proud of that fact, aren’t you?”

“Shouldn’t I be?  We pay very close attention to our cattle.”

“I guess every rancher would, but I can’t help but wonder how other people feel when you brag about the cows you ultimately butcher for food.”

“Brag?”

“What about your friend, Martin.  Is he a rancher too?”

“No.  Martin works in the mines.”

“But ranching in more profitable, I bet.”

“Sure, for some, but not everyone.”

“Don’t you think your friend might feel inferior when you talk about all the cattle you take to market?”

“What’s this all about?”  Was the woman out to get my goat on a first date?  “Martin and I have been friends for years.  There’s no competition between us.”

“Have you asked him?”

“Asked him what?”

“If he feels inferior.”

“No, why should I?”

“So you don’t think he feels second-rate?”

“I guarantee he’s never felt that way around me.”

“Are you sure?”

Pierre had opened the bottle of wine before Pauline started her insane conversation, and after finishing my first, I filled my glass a second time.  I offered her more, but she put her hand over her untouched glass of Bordeaux.  When our dinner arrived, I was starving, and I waited for my date to pick up her knife and fork, but that never happened.  She kept her hands in her lap.

“Is something wrong with your meal?”

“I guess I should’ve said something before.”

“I don’t understand?”

“I can’t possibly eat one of God’s sacred creatures.”

“You don’t eat meat?”

“No.  Never.”

“But you let me order you a steak.”

“I’m sorry but—” She held the napkin over her mouth and nose as if she might hurl all over the table.  “I refuse to eat some poor creature that’s been tortured since birth.”

“Tortured?  We don’t do anything of the kind, Miss Mayer.”

“Don’t you brand and butcher?”

“Of course, we do.”

“And you don’t call that torture?  You think because you’re a man that you’re better than all of God’s finest creations?”

“Listen, Lady.  I don’t know where you get off—”

She closed her eyes and turned her head.  Still gripping the napkin, she held up her hand.  “Please take me home.”

What kind of fool was I sitting with?  I threw my napkin on top of my plate and moved around the table to pull out her chair.  Pierre rushed to our side, concerned, of course, but I smiled and tried to reassure him.  I pulled a few bills from my wallet and patted the poor man’s shaking shoulder.  Not only was I humiliated, but we’d also caused a minor uproar in his overpriced establishment.

When we reached the widow Hawkins’, I leaned forward to open the front door but couldn’t think of a thing to say.  I was still fuming.  Half a month’s pay … gone.

“I should apologize for ruining your evening,” she said.

“Listen, Pauline.  My family and I are ranchers.  That’s all there is to it.  I’m sorry you don’t approve, but raising cattle is our livelihood.”

“How can you brand and butcher helpless animals?  Have you no feelings at all?”

“I do all those things, but I care for those helpless animals the best I know how.  I see that they have plenty of green pastures to graze.  I winter-feed when necessary, and I make sure every stream is running so none of our cattle go a day without water.”

“And then you kill them.”

“And then I kill them.  It’s all part of God’s plan.”

“I disagree.”

“You have every right.”

“Good night, Joe.”

“Good night, Miss Mayer.”

Chapter 5

Pa waited up, nothing new there, but I wasn’t up for a discussion on my miserable evening with a woman who hated me for no other reason than I was a rancher.  After stabling Cooch, I stepped through the front door, threw my hat on the sideboard, and flopped down on the settee.

“How’d it go, son?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“That bad?”

“Worse.”

Pa set his book aside and leaned forward in his chair.  “Are you saying it wasn’t the date you had planned?”

“That woman’s a bonafide nutcase.”

“Oh, come on, Joe.  She couldn’t be that bad.”

“Wanna bet?”

Pa tried not to chuckle, but it slipped out anyway.  “I’m sorry, son, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this upset.”

I shook my head.  “You know what really galls me?  You wanna hear the truth?”

“That’s up to you, son.”

“I spent half a month’s wages on a woman who lets me order for her, a big juicy steak at Pierre’s mind you, and then informs me that she couldn’t possibly eat an animal that’s been tortured by ranchers like me.”

“Tortured?”  Pa’s deep baritone raised an octave.

“You got it.  That’s all she talked about.  How we’re all a bunch of evil ranchers who find pleasure in branding and butchering our steers.”

Twice now, Pa smothered a laugh.  “I’m sorry, Joseph, but evil ranchers?”

“Those weren’t her exact words, but she got her point across.”

“You did a favor for a friend, and I’m proud of you.  You did your part, but don’t give that woman another thought.  What you need now, young man, is a good night’s sleep.”

“What I need now is a gun to my head.  I really know how to pick ‘em, Pa.”

Instead of squeezing the trigger and putting me out of my misery, Pa gripped my shoulder.  “Tomorrow we start branding, and I want you boys to head out early.”

“Don’t you mean the evil Cartwrights?  Ride out and torture more cattle?”

“Go to bed, Joseph.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chapter 6

For the next five days, Adam and Hoss, and I sweated over a stinking hot fire and my mood was less than enthusiastic.  I told my brothers about the evil Cartwrights, which, of course, they both had a good laugh, but I couldn’t dismiss that woman’s unkind words.

“Ah, Joe, forget about her.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“You know better’n to dwell on some crazy gal that ain’t right in the head.”

“I’ll do my best, brother.”

We all took turns with the branding iron.  One of us roped and hauled the calf to the pit.  The next man laid him on his side, and the third put a hot iron to his flank.  The smell of scorched hide filled the air only this time around, it bothered me more than usual.

Last year, we had visitors from Baltimore.  Melinda Banning and her obnoxious mother—a woman who sought out wealthy bachelors for her daughter to marry—visited the Ponderosa.  I didn’t realize the old lady’s motives at the time, and I fell head over heels in love with her daughter.  I was set to marry the girl only to find out I’d been played for a fool, but I was getting off track.

When mother and daughter rode out to watch the branding, it wasn’t hard to see that Melinda was Eastern-bred and wasn’t accustomed to our Western ways.  Minutes after dismounting and standing near the pit, the poor girl fainted.  At the time, I felt sorry for her—a delicate flower—and I sat at her bedside until she recovered enough that I could finish the day’s work and not worry about leaving her alone.

If not for Pauline, I doubt I’d even remember Melinda and her fainting spell, but I tried to imagine what Pauline would say or do if she rode out to the pit.  Would she mouth off like she had at supper, or would she take a shotgun and blast the evil Cartwrights to Kingdom Come?

“Joseph!”

“What?”  Hoss had a calf turned on his side, but I hadn’t been paying attention.

“Quit your daydreamin’ and put the iron this calf.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Hoss had been riding me all day—Joe, do this.  Joe, do that—but I couldn’t keep my mind on the job.  Pauline and all her talk about branding and butchering our cattle had me rattled.

“Hey, what’d you do with that new branding iron anyway?”

“Branding iron?”

“You had it last.”

“I left it in the back of the wagon.”

“Well, it ain’t there no more.”

I threw the old iron in the coals and pushed to my feet.  “You think I’m lying?”

“I just asked.”  Hoss stood up too.  “What’s wrong with you anyhow?  You ain’t had your mind on work all day.”

“I don’t know.”  I nudged a clod of dirt with my toe.

“You still thinkin’ about that crazy lady?”

“I guess.

Hoss didn’t push the subject, and that was fine with me.  The less said the better.  We finished branding a day early and dressed for a night on the town.  We all had different preferences as far as saloons went, but we didn’t let that get in the way of three thirsty men and settled on the Silver Dollar.  Cards, women, and booze.  We had our choice of all three; instead, we all sat together that night and enjoyed each other’s company.

It was a Thursday night, and the saloon was crowded with off-shift miners.  I just happened to glance up when a tall, gangly man walked in.  “Hey, Martin,” I shouted and waved my hat over my head.  He held up a finger, stepped up to the bar, and ordered a beer before he moved toward our table.

“Hi, fellas.”

“Join us,” Adam said.  Hoss and Adam never cared much for Martin but for my benefit, they knew to keep a civil tongue.

“What are you doing here on a Thursday?”  I said.  “And look at you.  Why the fancy duds?”  Martin sported a clean, white shirt and black string tie, not his usual attire by a long shot.  He pulled the string and unknotted the tie before tucking it into his shirt pocket.

“I’ll never get used to them things,” he said and took a long draw from his mug.  “Had me a date, Joseph.”

“Yeah?  Who’s the lucky girl?”

“I think you know her.”

“Well?”  I waited a beat.  “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“Miss Mayer,” he said.  “Miss Pauline Mayer.”

My brother’s eyes shot at me, but I didn’t acknowledge their glances.  “Really?  How’d it go?”

“She’s a mighty fine woman, Joseph.  We just got back from a buggy ride up to Benton Falls.”

I wanted to ask if they ate apples and celery all day, but … well, that was uncalled for.  “That’s great, Martin.  I’m glad things are going well.”

“Real well, Joseph.  I’m seein’ her again Saturday night.”

“That’s … that’s good, buddy.”

“I never would’ve figured it,” Hoss said on the ride home.  “Martin Sears and the crazy lady.”

“Yeah.  He’s not an evil rancher named Cartwright.”

Hoss laughed briefly then turned serious and furrowed his brow.  “Poor guy’s got his hands full.  I sure can’t see no future, can you, Joe?”

“Don’t ask me, Hoss.  I’m just a heartless cowpoke.”

Chapter 7

Six weeks later, the four of us dressed in our Sunday best to attend the marriage of Pauline Mayer and Martin Sears.  I guess we were all wrong about Martin.  He’d been the shiest boy in school—almost an outcast—but the first of my friends to marry.

I’d polished the surrey and we all rode to town together.  The wedding was being held at noon at St. Mary’s in the Mountains, a new Catholic church that replaced the first one built in Virginia City after winter winds blew it to the ground.

I hadn’t seen Martin very often since that night at the Silver Dollar.  Sally Ann Wilson and I had attended a couple of dances together, but we didn’t socialize with my best friend and his girl.  Although I’d considered asking Martin and Pauline to join us, I was afraid once she saw me, she’d start running her mouth and ruin the entire night.  So, I never asked.

As usual, I daydreamed during most church services, and Martin’s wedding was no exception.  I thought about Pauline’s odd ways and wondered how my friend would survive when a good Ponderosa cut of beef was forbidden to him for the rest of his life.

“ … you may kiss the bride.”

As the pipe organ played, the newlyweds hurried down the aisle to the back of the church, and we all stopped to greet the happy couple.  I let Pa and my brothers go first.  I followed them down the aisle, stopped in front of Martin, and extended my hand.  “Congratulations, old man,” I said before looking at Pauline.  “You make a very handsome couple.”

“Thank you, Joseph.”  He leaned in closer.  “I wanted you for my best man, but Pa said it weren’t right not to have Oren stand up with me.”

“Hey, no problem.  I understand.  Family comes first.”  I turned again to Pauline.  “You have my blessing for a long and happy life.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cartwright.”

Mr. Cartwright?  “You’re welcome.”

Damn if she wasn’t the strangest woman I’d ever met.  “Mr. Cartwright.”  What was that all about?  Maybe it was just me, but was the woman determined to goad me even at her own wedding?

“How about a late lunch at the International?”  Pa said.  None of us argued.  We were starving, and we ordered steaks and all the fixin’s except Hoss, who ordered two of everything.

“You still have room for pie?”  I said to my oversized brother.

“’Course, I do, little brother.  What’s a wedding without pie?”

“It’s not your wedding.”

“Don’t matter none.  I’m in a celebratory mood.  Ain’t you?”

And that’s when Pa added his two cents.  “You’ve been awful quiet, son.  Something bothering you?”

“Me?  No, I just don’t understand how Martin could fall in love that woman.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” Adam said.

“Jealous?  Not a chance in h … No!  I’m not jealous.  You know what she called me back there?  Mr. Cartwright.  Not Little Joe or just Joe, but Mr. Cartwright.”

Hoss and Adam couldn’t help but laugh, but Pa put his hand on my arm and patted me like I was a child who couldn’t take a joke, but that woman wasn’t joking.  She said it on purpose just to rile me, and she did a darn good job.

“Seems like that gal gets her jollies outta makin’ your life miserable, little brother.”

“You think?”

Chapter 8

I’d been seen around town quite often with Sally Ann Wilson on my arm, but things didn’t work out like I planned.  There wasn’t a spark, no shiver down my spine when I stood on her doorstep, and eventually, we parted ways.  I wasn’t discouraged, though.  Time had a way of resolving matters of the heart, and I was in no rush to jump back into the game.

The cattle drive was nearing, and we’d all be off to Sacramento in no time, but we needed drovers.  Pa sent me off to town with a couple of posters advertising for available cowpokes in the area.  As I rode past the sheriff’s office, Roy called out and waved me over.

“Mornin’, Little Joe.”

“Morning, Sheriff.”

“Can you step inside my office for a minute?”

Pa would have my hide if I dawdled too long, but I couldn’t ignore the town sheriff.  “Sure, Roy.”  I tied Cooch to the hitch rail and walked up the steps to the jailhouse.  “What’s up?”

“This ain’t gonna be pleasant, Little Joe but … have a seat, son.”

I sat down in front of the sheriff’s desk.  He wore his serious face, and I always dreaded that look.  “What’s the matter, Roy?”

“Sally Ann Wilson is dead.”

“What do you mean dead?  I saw her a week ago.  She was fine then.”

“Sally Ann was murdered, Little Joe.”

“Murdered?  Why?”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to figure out.”

I slumped farther down in the chair and held my hat in my hands.  “Sally Ann.  Who’d do something like that?”

“Old Jake Murdock found her down by Buckhorn Creek.  At first look, I thought she’d drowned, but that weren’t the case.  That gal had rope burns around her neck.  Someone strangled her first then dumped her remains in the water.”

“She never hurt a fly, Roy.  It doesn’t make sense.”

The sheriff sat up taller.  “Lemme ask you this, son.  Did you and Miss Sally Ann ever picnic down that way?”

“Yeah, we did.  One Sunday after service.”

“Then let me ask you this.  Was there any hard feelin’s between you and the girl?”

“Of course not.  We saw each other for a few weeks, went to a couple of dances together, and decided we’d be better off seeing other people.  As far as I know, there were no hard feelings.”  But then I studied Roy’s question more clearly and realized what he was asking.  “You don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?”

“Oh, of course, not, Little Joe,” Roy drawled, “but I have to question everyone who might’ve come in contact with her.  Do you know if she was seein’ someone else?”

I stared at Roy.  How would I know?  We parted ways.  I hadn’t seen her for over a week.  “Wouldn’t her parents be able to answer that better than I?”

“I asked, and as far as they knew you were the last boy she’d been out with.”

“Are they accusing me of—”

“No, not exactly, but your name was brought up in conversation.”

“That’s just great.  I take a pretty girl to a couple of dances, and the next thing I know, I’m accused of killing her.  That’s really great, Roy.”

“Just hold on, Little Joe.  That ain’t what’s goin’ on at all.  I asked difficult questions, and the Wilsons answered as best they could.  That’s all it means.  No one’s accusin’ you or anyone else so far.”

“So far?  But my name’s on the list, isn’t it?  Joe Cartwright, suspected killer of young girls.”

The sheriff stood from his chair.  “You go on about your business, son.  I’ll get in touch if we need to talk again.”

As the good citizens of Virginia City moved up and down the boardwalk, I stood outside Roy’s office in a haze of disbelief.  Murder, but I didn’t have time to dwell.  I had posters to hang.

After telling Pa and my brothers about Sally Ann, Hoss and Adam headed back out to round up strays, and I stayed home with Pa.  He thought it best that I stuck close to home until the cattle drive, but I couldn’t sit around and do nothing.  I didn’t argue, though.  I was tired; at least my brain was tired.  I suppose Roy had to ask; he was an officer of the law and that was his job, but it rankled me that I was the first person he questioned.

Pa tried to smooth things over, but nothing he said eased my mind.  I should’ve asked Roy if he’d questioned anyone else.  Was I at the top of his list?  He sure made it sound that way.  I wondered if Sally Ann had already been buried.  I didn’t know that either, or I certainly would’ve gone to pay my respects, but I was in the dark about a lot of things.

“I need to talk to Roy,” I said to Pa.

“Joseph.  I’d rather you stayed out of town.  Let Roy do his job.”

“I’ll let him do his job, but I have questions, and I need answers.”

“If you must go, I’ll ride in with you, but not until tomorrow morning.  Maybe he’ll have gathered more evidence by then and have more answers to give.”

“Tomorrow’s fine.  Think I’ll go lie down a while if that’s okay.”

“Go ahead.  I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”

“Thanks, Pa.”

Chapter 9

The following morning, I saddled Cooch and Buck and came back inside to tell Pa.  “Horses are saddled.”

“Be ready in a minute.”

After a leisurely breakfast, Pa had paperwork he wanted to finish so he could post a packet with a signed contract while we were in town.  A lumber contract he and Adam had been working on over the past week and apparently, it had to be mailed today.  I tried to be patient.  I wasn’t a kid anymore, but I’d yet to learn patience.  Pa said it was my nature.

We rode straight to the sheriff’s office and tied our mounts out front.  First things first I always say, but Roy was out of the office.  His deputy, Ralph Carlisle, was in charge.

“Where’s the sheriff?”  I asked.

“He ain’t here.”

“I see that, Ralph.  I asked where he was.”

Pa could sense my irritation, and he cautioned my behavior when he grabbed my arm.  “Joseph.”  I’d pressed both hands on the sheriff’s desk.  Maybe I scared the deputy, but I asked a simple question, and I expected an answer.  Was that too much to ask?

“He went out.”

“Out where, Ralph?  I’d like to speak to him.”

“He’s investigatin’ a murder.”

“Sally Ann Wilson?”

“How’d you know?”

“Come on, Joseph.  We’ll stop back before we leave town.”

I looked down at the deputy who hadn’t moved from behind Roy’s desk.  “If the sheriff comes back, tell him to wait here, okay?”

“Sure thing, Little Joe.”

I walked outside with Pa.  He carried the packet and turned toward the post office.  I stepped in front of him.  “There’s something I need to check on, Pa.  I’ll catch up.”

“Joseph … ” Warning bells flagged his voice.

“I’ll only be a minute.  I promise, and I’ll meet you down at the post office.”

Pa’s birthday was next week, and I’d ordered him an engraved holster out of a catalog from a tannery in San Francisco.  Since I wouldn’t be allowed in town again before the drive, today was my only chance to pick up the gift.

Pa relented, and I darted up the street to Ira’s shop.  I’d paid in advance, and all I had to do now was keep the gift hidden from Pa so I could spring it on him at his birthday dinner.  I walked through Ira’s front door, and he called out my name.  “Little Joe.  Glad you stopped in.”

“Hi, Mr. Felger.”

“It’s here, son.  Your package came in yesterday on the noon stage.”

“Good.  Pa’s in town with me so I’ll need you to wrap it up real good.”

The gift was already covered in brown paper for mailing purposes.  Ira pulled it from a shelf below and set it on top of the counter.  “Let’s have a look-see, shall we?”

He pulled the strings loose and handed me the holster.  I saw the engraving right off.  BC carved into the ornately fashioned leather.  “They did a nice job, didn’t they?  I’ll admit I was a little nervous.  I spent a lot of money for something sight unseen.”

“It looks fine, Little Joe.”

“If you’ll wrap it back up, I’ll be on my way.”

I thanked Mr. Felger for his time and hurried back up to Cochise, stuffed the present in my saddlebags, and headed down to the post office.  Wouldn’t Pa be surprised?

Chapter 10

Gray skies had washed away the sun, but a bold strip of red sky hovered over the taller mountain peaks.  Sunset was nearing, and I lay on hard-packed ground with my hands tied behind my back.  Some of the day’s events were clear.  Some weren’t.  My mind was fuzzy, and my arms and legs felt like lead.  There wasn’t a house or line shack in sight.  Virginia City and the Ponderosa were a long way away.

I thought it odd at the time, but she was an odd bird, no great friend of mine.  Pauline was my best friend’s wife.  When she’d waved me over from the alley, I thought it might’ve had something to do with Martin.  Maybe a birthday celebration she wanted to keep under wraps, a surprise party for her husband whose birthday was the day after my father’s, and I followed her down the alleyway where she had a wagon waiting behind the mercantile.

“What’s this all about, Pauline?”

“You must come with me,” she said as though she was out of breath.  “There’s something I need to show you.”

After we climbed aboard, she smacked the reins, and we were off.  I still didn’t understand, but she seemed adamant.  Something in her voice sounded anxious as though she was frightened and needed my help.  After driving to the edge of town, she handed me the reins.

“I’ll be glad to drive,” I said, “but first, tell me where we’re going.”

“It’s Martin.  He needs you, Joe.”

Exactly what I thought, but we weren’t heading to the mine.  We headed east down six-mile canyon instead.  “I don’t understand.”

“You will.  Hurry.”

Like a fool, I’d done as she asked, and now I was lying on the desert floor with a gun pointed straight at my head.

She’d pulled my Colt from its holster when I nearly lost control of the team going down the canyon.  She was uneasy and jittery, and there’s nothing worse than a nervous finger on the trigger so I did as she asked.  I drove the wagon into the desert.  Surrounded by nothing but flat, dry sand, I was at the woman’s mercy.

When we were miles from town, she had me stop the wagon and get out.  She stayed seated but kept the gun leveled at my chest.  Was she a crack shot?  I didn’t know.  Was she a crazy bitch?  Definitely.

“Take off your boots.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

I pulled off my boots.

“Turn your back and get down on your hands and knees.”

After doing her bidding, I sensed a small flash of light behind me, and a hint of tobacco smoke drifted in the air.  I looked over my shoulder at my captor.  She pulled the cheroot from her lips and exhaled a trail of white smoke.  “Bad manners,” she said.  “A proper young lady would’ve asked permission first.  Do you mind?”

I didn’t bother to answer.

“You don’t find me a proper lady, do you, Joseph?”

“What do you want me to say, Pauline?  You have a gun at my back.  I’ll say anything you want.”

“You’re not as dumb as you look, are you?”

Shards of pebbles or maybe even dry bones gouged my hands and knees.  “You gonna tell me what this is all about?”

“No, not yet, but you’ll understand in time.”

And then I blacked out.  When I woke, the sun was higher in the sky and a tug on my shoulders told me my wrists were bound behind me.  While I was on my hands and knees, she’d hit me over the head, probably with the butt of my own gun, and knocked me senseless.

Though I hadn’t realized at the time, she’d tied a second rope, a longer rope, around my waist.  “I’ll do the driving now,” she said.  Slipping my gun in her waistband, she climbed back up on the wagon seat.  “Get on your feet, Joseph, and enjoy the sights and sounds.”

Realization dawned.  I’d be walking the rest of the way without my boots.  This trip into the desert had nothing to do with her husband, my friend.  She flicked the reins, and I had no choice but to keep up or be dragged through the wasteland more commonly known as Starvation Flats.

“You’re crazy!”  I screamed.  “You know that, Pauline?  You’re insane!”

Chapter 11

After mailing his package, Ben Cartwright marched straight to the jailhouse, but Joseph was nowhere in sight, and Ben was as angry as he’d ever been.  Cochise still stood next to Buck in front of Roy’s office, but where was the boy?

“All I asked was that he stick with me until this thing with Sally Ann was over, but no,” he mumbled.  “He takes off on his own and does exactly what I asked him not to do.  Pester the sheriff.”

Bursting through Roy’s front door, expecting to see his son, Ben halted abruptly when he realized the deputy was alone in the room.  “Have you seen Little Joe?”

“Sure have, but he was with you, Mr. Cartwright.”

Losing patience was easy with this numskull of a deputy.  “After that,” Ben growled.  “Has Joseph been back in this office?”

“Oh, no, sir.  Neither has the sheriff.”

“Fine.  That’s all I needed to know.”

Ben stood on the boardwalk.  He looked left and right.  C Street was bustling with heavy supply wagons and folks running daily errands but no sign of his son.  He crossed the street and walked into the Bucket of Blood.  “Hey, Cosmo.  Seen Joe today?”

“No, can’t say that I have.  Need a beer?”

Ben flung his elbows on the bar in frustration.  “Sure, why not.”

While Cosmo drew his beer, Ben glanced around the room.  The Bucket of Blood was Joe’s first choice of saloons.  If he hadn’t stopped in for a beer, what did that mean?  He didn’t know where else to look and he sipped his beer slowly, waiting for what?  He wasn’t quite sure.

Chapter 12

If Pauline hadn’t kept the team at a steady pace, I’d be dead by now and never know the reason why.  My hat was gone, lost on the desert floor.  My holster, even without the gun, weighed heavy on my hip.  We continued east.

In the back of the wagon, a canvas tarp draped over whatever cargo she deemed necessary for a trip into the desert.  She didn’t explain, and I didn’t know what she was carrying, but I noticed the bulging tarp before we left town.  I didn’t think a thing about it.  I didn’t ask, but what good would it have done?

I hadn’t expected to be dragged through the desert at the end of a rope, but she’d planned every step of my kidnapping very carefully.  No one saw us leave.  No friendly wave to a friend or acquaintance as we left Virginia City.  No sign of my father or Roy Coffee.  No one knew I’d disappeared into the desert.

I could picture my father, though.  Boy, would he have been put out when I didn’t show up at the post office.  He’d be awful mad, but he wouldn’t worry, not until a few hours passed and there was still no sign of his wayward son.  He’d check my horse, probably find his birthday present in my saddlebags, and blow the surprise I intended.  He wouldn’t have a clue where I’d bought the fancy holster, but he’d check every shop in town until he had answers.  That was my pa.  He never left a stone unturned.

By day’s end, he’d realize something was wrong, and that’s when he’d worry.  He’d contact Roy, not Ralph, the idiot deputy Roy had been forced to hire.  He’d gather my brothers and anyone else in town who would take time from their busy day to help find his missing son.  Roy would lead a posse in one direction while Pa and my brothers searched elsewhere.  But they wouldn’t start out until daybreak.

Chapter 13

After discovering his birthday present in Joe’s saddlebags, Ben went straight to the mercantile to question Amos Cole about the gift.

“No, Little Joe didn’t order it here.  That’s a mighty fine-looking holster, though.  Must’ve cost him a pretty penny.  Hey, you might try Ira’s shop down the street.  He often deals in mail order, special orders he doesn’t have in stock.”

Ben rewrapped his package.  “If Little Joe should stop by … oh, never mind.  Thanks, Amos.”

Joseph should’ve met him at the post office.  Ben realized why Joe had begged off and said he had an errand to run, but that was hours ago, and the engraved holster was proof he’d needed a few minutes alone, but where was he now?  It wasn’t like Joe to blatantly disobey.  He marched back down to the sheriff’s office.

“I need your help, Roy?”  Ben explained the situation.

“You sure the boy’s missing or did he leave town of his own free will?”

Ben palmed his hands on the sheriff’s desk, an obvious display of aggravation he’d cautioned his son about earlier in the day.  “Why in the world would he do that?  His horse is tied right outside your door.  You think he walked out of town?”

“He could’ve took the stage.  One headed west just this afternoon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  Joe had no reason to leave town.”

Roy stood from his chair.  “What about Sally Ann Wilson?”

“What about her?”

“She’s dead, you know.  Murdered.  I had no choice, Ben.  I had to question Little Joe.  He’s a likely suspect and a crucial part of the investigation.”

“So help me, Roy Coffee.  Do you really think Joseph had anything to do with her death?  They barely knew each other.”

“A courtship gone wrong?  It happens, Ben.  Happens all the time.”

“Not to Joseph, it doesn’t.  Are you going to help me or not?”

“If you don’t find the boy tonight, I’ll put a posse together tomorrow morning.  That’s the best I can do.  Now, go home.  Joe’s probably wondering where you are.”

Ben stiffened his arm and pointed at the front door.  “My boy would never leave town without his horse.”

Chapter 14

I could hang on until Pa found us.  I’d do what Pauline asked.  I wouldn’t talk back or upset her in any way.  She was a hair-trigger away from ending my life, and I didn’t know why.  Did I dare ask?  Maybe not just yet.  Let her think she had complete control.  Pa and my brothers or the sheriff would show up, and whatever game she was playing would come to an end.

Apparently, we’d reached our destination.  She slowed the horses to a standstill and climbed down from the seat still aiming the gun.  “Did you enjoy the walk, Joseph?”

Don’t rile her.  Don’t make this any worse than it has to be.  My hands were tied behind me, and my feet were torn to shreds, but I managed a disinterested tone.  “What happens now, Pauline?”

She stopped by a grouping of tall rocks, a shelter of sorts in the middle of nowhere.  The wind had picked up.  Sand blew in my face, in my eyes and mouth.  I spit out a mouthful of grit.

“Bet you’re dry as a bone.”

“Yeah, I could use a drink.”

“Soon.  The horses worked just as hard as you did, and I bet they’re thirsty too.  Who should come first, Joseph?  Two faithful beasts or a despicable human being?”

I dropped my head.  Reasoning with Pauline Sears was like … My, God.  She thought more of the horses than she did of me; at least, that’s what she wanted me to believe.  Is that what this was all about?  Was she trying to make a point?

I was so tired, I could barely think straight and when needless visions cluttered my mind, I tried to push them away, but the sun’s relentless blaze made me dizzy, too dizzy to stay on my feet and … maybe I passed out.  I’m not sure, but when I opened my eyes, Pauline stood over me wielding a crop at my shoulders and screaming at the top of her lungs.

“One day in the desert and you collapse like a little girl.  You’re worthless, Joseph.  I can smell your sweaty, filthy body from here.  Add repulsive to worthless.”

I shifted my weight and tried to look up, but the low, evening sun shadowed her face.  My shoulders were torn and bleeding.  The back of my shirt was shredded, and I was dying of thirst.  I rolled back to my stomach and listened to a much calmer Pauline.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, but it wouldn’t be in my best interest to untie you.  Not yet at least.”

I squeezed out a minimal number of words.  “What do you want from me?”

“How does it feel to be at the mercy of another human being, Joseph?  It’s a funny little phrase, isn’t it?  At the mercy.”  She’d moved behind me, but I could hear her pacing back and forth on the hard-packed ground.

“There’s meaning in that phrase, though, Joseph, and you need to understand how things will work from now on.  When a particular individual takes control over a weaker, less fortunate creature, only one can dictate the rules.  The poor creature might try to defend himself or run away, but what if no mercy is shown?  Is that wrong?  Is that a bad thing?

“You will abide by my rules, and you’ll learn how it feels when there’s no possible escape.  When you’re bound, and you struggle to free yourself, but your struggle has been in vain, then you’ll understand what being at the mercy means.”

I couldn’t lift my head.  I was truly at her mercy, but what did she expect me to say?  Apologize?  In her mind’s eye, I was a rancher, and every rancher was evil.  Okay, I understood all that.  Her father was a preacher, and she’d been raised differently than I had, but why had she hauled me out to the desert, and what were the rules was she referring to?

With my hands bound and a rope around my waist, she was right about one thing.  Trying to free myself wasn’t going to happen.  She still held my gun and had added a leather crop to her list of weapons, which she kept in plain sight.  I was weak and without water, I wouldn’t last long.  I had no choice but to play by her rules.

“Move over by the wagon and put your back against a wheel.”

I did as I was told, but it was hard to get situated much less comfortable.  My shoulders were on fire, and the bottoms of my feet were raw.  My body cried out for relief, but Pauline seemed content to watch me crawl across the desert floor.  She secured me to the wheel.

“That’ll do for tonight.  We have a long day tomorrow, so I suggest you get some sleep.”

“How about some water?”

“Oh, didn’t you have anything to drink today?  How thoughtless of me, Joseph?  I’ll make sure to have someone clear that beaver dam first thing in the morning.”

Chapter 15

Following Roy’s suggestion, although it irked him that his friend had turned Joe’s disappearance into something unsavory, Ben led Cochise to the livery, asked Miguel to feed and keep him overnight, and turned his own mount toward the Ponderosa.  If for some unknown reason, Joe was still in town, he’d need his horse to get home.

Hoss greeted him in the yard and kindly put up his horse.  Adam stepped outside and asked where he’d been all day.

“Long story, son, and no answers as yet.”

Intrigued, Adam followed his father inside.  “Wanna talk about it?”

“Your brother is missing, but let’s wait for Hoss.  I only want to tell the story once.”

Chapter 16

I woke to my brother’s voice.  Adam had called out my name, but his voice fell silent as soon as I opened my eyes and stared blankly into an inky darkness.  It must have been a dream, a cruel and hopeless dream.  There was no sign of Adam in the desert.

Pa always said I should eat more, and now I knew why.  I shifted my weight, but nothing seemed to help.  Every inch of me ached including my butt.  My mouth was like cotton.  The beaver dam prevented me from having that drink, and I ran my tongue across chalky, split lips.  It’s the best I could do, but then it hit me.  There was no beaver dam.  Pure nonsense, but had I believed her last night?  Was I that far gone?  Thank God, I’d come to my senses before she woke and tried to put another one past me.

Pauline made her bed a few feet from the wagon and buried herself under a pile of blankets to ward off the night chill.  She hadn’t started a fire.  The woman didn’t miss a trick.  She feared someone might find us.

She never gave me a drink.  I wouldn’t last long now, and maybe that was her plan, but what about Martin?  Was he in on this too?  Was he even aware his wife was missing?  Damn.  If I could only reason things out.

And then there was Sally Ann, and I knew what Roy Coffee would think.  A woman was dead, and I’d skipped town with another man’s wife.  If that didn’t make me his number one suspect, nothing else would.  No matter what Pa and my brothers might say, that’s exactly what the sheriff would think.

After laying my head back against a narrow spoke, I tried to fall back asleep.  I’d need every ounce of strength I could manage to keep up with the wagon for another full day.

The following morning, Pauline tied my ankles as a precaution.  She loosened the rope holding me to the wheel and told me to stand.  With my hands still tied behind my back, it wasn’t an easy task.  She realized my dilemma and pushed me on my stomach then jabbed her knee in my back.  When I grunted and tried to catch my breath, she smacked the back of my head.

After my hands were untied, and I was helped to my feet, I tried to rub the soreness from my wrists.  But I felt so lightheaded that I grabbed hold of the wheel before I keeled over and landed flat on the ground.

My freedom was short-lived.  My wrists were tied in front of me this time.  With my ankles still bound, I couldn’t run off, and Pauline felt comfortable moving to the back of the wagon and leaving me on my own.  She wasn’t gone long and when she returned, she breezed past me, swinging a canteen over her head like a parasol.  My eyes were glued, but Pauline liked to play games.

“Oh, did I forget to tell you, Joseph?  Those pesky little beavers hadn’t dammed up the stream after all.”  She raised her hand to her heart.  “I swear on my mother’s grave.  Can you imagine my surprise?”

The longer she rambled, the weaker I became.  A day in the desert without water.  If she was testing my endurance, she wouldn’t have much longer to wait.

“Not very talkative this morning, are we?”

She popped the stopper, held the canteen to her lips, and let a small amount of water dribble down her chin to her chest.  When she had her fill, she arched her neck and ran her hand seductively across her throat.  She sighed.  “That feels so good.”

Her eyes shot at me.  “Gonna be another hot one, Joseph.”  When she stepped forward, I licked my lips.  My eyes watered in the bright sunlight, but I dared not blink.  I stared at the canteen, fearing she’d take it away.

“Don’t look so worried.  No one’s ever thought of me as heartless.  I realize your needs.  Neither man nor beast can survive days in the desert without water, don’t you agree?”

I licked my lips again and was finally handed the canteen.  I tilted the container upright until she jerked it away too soon, and I stood with my mouth hanging open.  Water splashed and spilled—my water—leaving a dark-colored smudge on the ground.

“Look what you’ve done now.”  I stared at Pauline through narrowed eyes.  “Careless,” she screamed.  “Careless and ungrateful.  You force my hand, Joseph.”

I didn’t drink enough water to keep a squirrel alive, and I knew we were in for another long day.  I thought I’d find the perfect opportunity, and no one would get hurt, but I’d waited too long to overpower her.  She never let her guard down, and she’d never become complacent or careless.  She held all the cards and was well aware that I’d become too weak to do anything but fold my hand and claim defeat.

My body ached and thoughts of today’s venture across more of the desert floor seemed impossible.  I couldn’t be made to walk again without food or constant stops for water.  I reached my limit yesterday, but I feared a repeat performance was part of her plan.

Pauline hitched the team like a pro.  She didn’t ask for or need my help.  The rope around my waist still dangled at my feet until she took hold and led me in front of the team.

“You’ll take the lead today, Joseph.”

“The what?”  My voice was barely audible, but the questioning look on my face made her smile.  She pulled the rope and I followed.  The ground was rock-hard, and I felt every stray stone and clump of brittle grass as she marched me in front of the wagon and secured the longer rope to the harness.

“Won’t this be fun?  Today, I’ll watch you, but you won’t see me.  Isn’t variation a wonderful thing?”

Pauline sounded so cheerful and gay that I summoned the courage to wipe that stupid smile off her face.  I fisted my tied hands, whirled all my feeble efforts at the left side of her face but only managed a flimsy punch against her shoulder instead.  She stumbled out of my reach and caught herself before she fell, but the damage wasn’t severe enough.  Although she composed herself, the cheeriness was gone, and a raging, vengeful woman appeared.

“You son-of-a-bitch,” she cried.  “You filthy, disgusting man.  I should castrate you here and now!”

When she turned back to the wagon, she rubbed her hand over her shoulder blade, but the pain was short-lived.  I’d blown my chance.  I was at her mercy again, but what did she mean by castrate?  Surely, she wasn’t that far gone.  Hopefully, I wasn’t either.  Maybe I’d heard her wrong.  When she flicked the reins—I being the lead “horse”—we moved farther into the desert.

My shirt hung on me like a rag.  I wanted to ask how far we were going and why, but there’d be no answers.  She knew I wouldn’t stop walking.  I wasn’t ready to die by letting the weighted hooves of two horses crush me to death, but it was all I could do to keep a step ahead of the team.  I stared at the endless horizon, an open range of nothing.

I tried to find beauty where there was none.  Starvations Flats was void of lakes and trees or brush more than a few inches tall.  There were no cabins, no homesteaders trying to make a go in the vast wasteland.  Pauline and I were very much alone.

I told myself to hang tough, that someone would pick up our trail and come riding our way, but a steady breeze blew in from the west.  Wind kicked up dust, and the dust covered tracks in an instant.  There’d been no ruts to follow.  The ground was too hard and dry for a seasoned tracker.  Even Hoss could get lost in the desert.

Adam’s desert cries labored in my mind like it was only yesterday that we found him crossing another desolate wasteland near Salt Flats.  Hauling a dead man, too weak and too disoriented to know that his baggage had died, his energy had been wasted on a cruel and angry man who tried to break him.  His mind had taken a turn, and he marched through the desert alone and afraid.  My compassion for his plight grew stronger with every step I took.

Could Adam see his way out or was his persistence to move forward nothing more than a suicide march, a dead man walking.  An eternity spent walking through hell on earth.  He never talked about his days in the desert, and he valued his privacy even more now than before.  Spending weeks with a madman had changed him, had given him a different perspective on life though he was unwilling to share his experience.  Fear.  Solitude.  Nothing any of us could pinpoint, not even Pa, but there’d been a change.  Discontent maybe.

I stared into the distance, hoping for the sight of a mirage, a resting place where I could soak my feet, lay in cool, green grasses, and dream of home and family and Hop Sing’s Sunday dinner, but that’s not what I saw.  All that was left to me except the blazing sun was dust and wind and a sense that the whole world had turned a languid shade of gray.  But then it appeared.

Heavenly shapes took form in the distance.  An oasis of clear, blue water and a rich, green landscape lay before me.  I tried to pick up my pace, but I was tied to the harness, helpless to move any faster until Pauline chucked the reins, and the horses began to trot.  Across the scorching desert, I ran until I stumbled and fell.

Chapter 17

I came to when she slapped my face with the palm of her hand.  She’d stopped the wagon in time, but I saw the smile on her face.  I could’ve been trampled to death, but she saw fit to save my life.  I had to wonder why.

“You don’t look too good, Joseph?”

I could’ve begged for water, but I knew what the answer would be.  I could’ve asked her why she hated me so, but the energy didn’t exist.

“You must be exhausted.  How are your feet?  Do you have a stone bruise or a cut that’s beginning to fester?  I would tend to that right away, but I’m afraid that your wounds will have to heal themselves.  Isn’t that what nature intended?  Heal thyself?”

What the hell was she mumbling about?  Stone bruise?  I wasn’t a horse for God’s sake.  I was a human being who felt pain just like everyone else.  Mocking.  That was her only form of entertainment, to harass and humiliate, but I couldn’t let her get the best of me, and I felt a surge of energy.  If I had to walk all the way to Kansas, so be it.  I pushed myself up and stood next to my captor.

“Let’s go,” I said.  “Let’s get this over with.”

The sun slipped behind distant peaks before she stopped the wagon a second time.  After tying me to the wheel, she built a small fire, far enough away from me that I felt no direct heat.  She warmed a pot of beans.  After offering me a drink—a short one—she grabbed the canteen from my hands before I had my fill.  I didn’t ask for more.  I didn’t beg or cry out.

Her expression as she corked the canteen showed nothing that would lead me to believe either of us was winning the battle she’d started when she told me to drive down six-mile canyon and pulled the gun from my holster.  The woman was on a mission but to what end?  What was her reason for traipsing me through no-man’s land like an animal?

I was starving.  I could live without food, but one gulp of water was barely enough to keep a man alive.  She knew it and I knew it.  Martin knew it too, and if he was behind all this, he was a dead man.  We’d been friends a long time, unlikely friends maybe.  That’s what everyone thought except Martin and me.  We got along well.  Nothing had ever come between us before, but had something happened after the lovebirds were married?

He’d never agree to this.  Not Martin.  He didn’t have a mean bone in his body.  Plus, he was a newlywed.  He and Pauline should’ve been enjoying their life together, exploring new things and finding happiness with each other.  They were separated now.  Martin, as far as I could guess, was probably searching for his bride and had the whole town on the lookout.

While my captor wrapped herself in blankets, the wagon wheel served as my bed with no warmth for the second night in a row.  I lay my head back against a spoke, not the best pillow even in the desert, but enough of an upright that I could rest while she touched a spoon of heated beans to her lips.

“Much too hot,” she’d said for my benefit, but I didn’t look away.  I continued to stare.

Soon, the fire burned out and the desert turned pitch black, a lonely place, and a frightening place with no woodland sounds that usually put me to sleep.  No coyote cries or the hoot of a nearby owl.  No sound of leaves rustling outside my bedroom window or fire crackling in the fireplace.  Silence.  Nothing but dead silence.

Chapter 18

Finding nothing after a day spent in the saddle, Roy and his posse rode back to Virginia City empty-handed and waited for Ben and his boys.  Arriving an hour later, the Cartwrights had nothing to show for their efforts either.

“This makes no sense, Roy.”

The sheriff steepled his hands on his desk.  “You and me’s the same kind of people, ain’t we, Ben?”

“Yes, why?”

“We’re both tryin’ to think like Little Joe, aren’t we?”

“Go on.”

“We’ve checked the stage line and nearly every business in town.  We’ve scoured through line shacks and all the abandoned mines nearby, yet we found nothin’ to go on.”

“What’s your point, Roy?”

“My point is maybe Little Joe don’t wanna be found.  You ever consider that?”

“No, and I won’t consider it now.  It’s absurd.  Joseph had no reason to disappear or hide out.  I know my son, Roy.  Something’s happened to him, something beyond his control.”  Ben stood to his full height.  “The boys and I will head out early tomorrow.  Are you with us?”

“I’d like to help any way I can, but you and me ain’t seeing Little Joe’s disappearance in the same light, which, I hate to say, brings me back to the Wilson girl.”

Ben stormed from Roy’s office and pulled Buck’s reins from the hitch post.  Adam and Hoss eyed each other before Hoss swallowed a heavy lump and spoke up.  “Somethin’ wrong, Pa?”

“No one votes for Roy Coffee in the next election.  Is that clear?”

“Clear as day, Pa.”

Ben yanked Buck’s reins across the animal’s neck and galloped down C Street.  Dutiful sons that they were, Hoss and Adam followed close behind.  The story would be told after they were home, but that didn’t solve the Little Joe problem.  The boy up and vanishing was unsettling.  It wasn’t like Joe to go against their father in such a way, but morning would come early, and they’d head out again, apparently without the sheriff’s help.

Chapter 19

She didn’t bother warming the beans before breakfast.  Instead, she ate them cold but made a deliberate point of scraping the tin plate with her spoon as she shoveled the food, quite unladylike, into her mouth.

“Don’t know why I’m so hungry this morning.  Must be the dry, desert air that gives me such an appetite.”  She scooped up a handful of sand and cleaned her plate and spoon before tucking each piece back in her knapsack.  “Oh, my, did I forget about you?”

I turned my head away.  Already, the sun beat against my face like a blazing-hot oven.  Not a sliver of shade was left on my side of the wagon, and the day’s heat was beginning to rise.  After shivering most of the night, I’d welcomed the early morning warmth though I regretted another long day of travel.

“I best water you, though.  Water is important, isn’t it, Joseph?  We can’t let the creek run dry, can we?”

She held water to my lips, and I drank.  Usually, she let me hold the canteen, but she changed the routine.  She was all business except for the taunting, which I let pass without a reply.  Maybe she’d get tired of the game.  Maybe she’d come to her senses and call it quits, but I’d lost faith in mankind … womankind?  Was that a word?

My, God, I was losing my mind?  Had I fallen that far?  Damn it!  There was no god; I knew that now.  The margin between life and death had narrowed.  One more day like yesterday and my life would be His.

I’d been a fool to let the abduction go this far.  Two days without food, and only enough water to keep me from falling on my face.  I’d dried up inside.  There wasn’t much left, and I had to act today, this morning.  Catch her off guard.  Let her see that Joe Cartwright still had enough strength to call the shots.

After loading the wagon with last night’s bedding and her knapsack of food, she tied a noose around my neck instead of my waist.  She untied me from the wagon wheel and told me to stand.  I pushed up from my seat on the ground and waited until she bent over to untie my ankles.  She was out of sync.  Yesterday, she’d untied my feet before she had me stand.  Today, I had the advantage.

She loosened the knot and when she pulled the rope from my feet, I kicked out and nailed her in the shin.  Not expecting a reaction from me, she fell backward on the ground.  But she was quick, and before I could kick out again, she was back on her feet and glaring at me with contempt.

“You’re nothing but a dirty, repulsive little man, Joseph.  You’re nothing!  Nothing but the lowest creature on earth.”

Twice, I failed to break free.  The look in her eye told me that life had taken a turn for the worse, that I’d be punished severely this time.  I meant less to her than any other man in the world, and our steady march across the desert would either break me or kill me.  I wasn’t sure which.

There wasn’t much slack in the noose she’d slipped over my head.  The difference, though, was that I walked adjacent to Pauline so she could keep a close eye.  No longer would I act as the lead horse.

She climbed aboard and slapped the reins, and the horses started our journey at a good clip.  If I should stumble and fall, I wouldn’t be trampled, but she could easily drag me alongside the wagon until my neck stretched tight.  I ran like hell.

Chapter 20

“Who d’ya suppose is bangin’ on the door this early?”

“Probably just one of the hands.  Would you mind, son?”

Hoss sighed and stared at his uneaten breakfast.  “Sure thing, Pa.”  Without Little Joe to fetch and carry and answer early morning calls, he was the next in line.  “Martin?  What brings you out this way?”

“I … well, I’ve been to see the sheriff and he … have you found Little Joe yet?”

“No.  You know somethin’ we don’t?”

Chair legs scraped the floor as Ben and Adam joined Hoss at the front door.

“Have you seen Joseph?”  Ben asked.

“No, can’t rightly say I have but there’s somethin’ I should tell you, sir.”

“Okay, go ahead.  Don’t be shy, Martin.”

The boy hesitated.  His eyes dipped to the floor before he found the nerve to continue.  “It’s about my wife, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Mrs. Sears?”

“Yes, sir.  She … my wife that is … well, she’s gone missing too.”

“When?”  Adam asked.  “How long has she been gone?”

“Same as Joseph, according to the sheriff.”

“And you just now realized she was gone?”

“Adam,” Pa cautioned.

“No.  When I got home from work the other night, she wasn’t there.  Neither was our wagon.  I tried to figger it out on my own, but I couldn’t come up with a decent reason.  We didn’t fight or nothin’ so I was kinda in the dark.  Then, I heard about Sally Wilson, and I feared something might’ve happened to Pauline too.  I should’ve gone straight to the sheriff, but I was unsure of … well, I don’t know why I didn’t go, but I didn’t.  When she still hadn’t come home yesterday, I went and talked to Roy Coffee, and that’s when I found out Joseph was missin’ too.”

Ben glanced at his boys and back to Martin Sears.  “None of this makes sense.”

“It sure don’t, Mr. Cartwright, but I thought you should know about my wife.”

“Is there any reason she’d go away, any reason you can think of that she …”

“I wish I knew, sir, but I’m kinda still learnin’ the ropes.  I’m not smart about women like Joseph.”

Four pairs of eyes shifted when hooves sounded in the yard.  Roy dismounted and clattered across the front porch.  He stood next to Martin.  “Guess you told Ben and the boys the same thing you told me.”

“I sure did, Sheriff.”

“Is there any reason them two would run off together?”

“Come on, Roy,” Adam said.  “You know Joe better than that.”

“I don’t know what to think, Adam.  I got one dead girl, another girl missin’, and no Joe Cartwright.  Now, whether you agree or not, I think there’s a connection.”

“You can’t be serious, Roy,” Ben stormed.  “My son isn’t involved with either woman.  Pauline is Martin’s wife.  Joseph and Sally Ann haven’t been together for weeks.”

“Then you tell me, Ben.  What happened to them women and where’s Little Joe?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.  And when I do, you better be ready to hand me an apology on a big silver platter.”  Ben turned to Martin.  “I’m sorry about your wife, but we’ll get to the bottom of this.  Mark my words, young man.  Joseph is innocent of all accusations the sheriff is spouting off without adequate information.  Seriously, Roy.  I never thought I’d see the day you’d accuse a man without one piece of solid evidence.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Ben, but I’m doing my job the best I know how.  If that rubs you the wrong way, there ain’t a thing I can do.”

All four men stared as Roy mounted his horse and rode out of the yard.

“I don’t know if the sheriff is right or wrong, but I’ll be on my way too, sir.  Boss don’t take kindly to me missing a day’s work.”

“Keep in touch, Martin,” Ben said.  “We’ll let you know if we find out anything about Joe or Pauline.”

Hoss shut the front door and turned toward his father.  “What the heck?  Joe ain’t no killer.  Why’s Roy actin’ like that?”

“Oh, son, I don’t know.  Frustration, I guess.  No leads to murder.  A second woman missing.  Why don’t we saddle up?  We need to find Joseph before the whole town is breathing down our necks with groundless allegations.”

Chapter 21

“Damn, damn, damn!” she shouted.  “Too much too soon, and the damn fool’s dead.  I wanted you to feel.  I wanted you to know pain and suffering, and now it’s too late.”

Her words were unclear, muffled, and bitter, but the constant breeze of her skirts as she paced back and forth kept me conscious of her whereabouts.  I suppressed a groan and kept as still as any “dead” man could.

My body was torn, ripped, and bleeding from scudding across the desert floor by a team of horses eager to run.  Her regrets about my death surprised me.  I figured that was the plan all along, but I was wrong.  She had something else in mind, something worse than death.  And when she kicked my side, the performance of my life was over when my eyes shot open, and she realized I was still alive.

“You!  You thought you could fool me, didn’t you?  You think you’re so smart.  You bastard.  You sanctimonious bastard.”

I wanted to reply, but I couldn’t form any words.  Everything, even my jaw and my teeth ached and screamed for relief.  How many bones were broken?  How many muscles had gone useless and unwilling to cooperate?  I was as good as dead.  There wasn’t much more she could do to increase the pain she’d inflicted when she chose to run the team.

Pa always said life was precious although I hope he’d think differently if he saw me now.  My life was over, and I prayed that death would come sooner than later.  A tall drink of whiskey would help, but none was at hand.  A double dose of Doc Martin’s powders might knock me out, but that wasn’t possible either.

I rolled from my side to my back and couldn’t help but mutter a cry.  Tears burned my eyes when raw, bleeding skin skimmed the hot, sandy earth.  If I begged for mercy, my cries would fall on deaf ears, and I vowed to live my few remaining hours in silence.

“Let me help you, Joseph.”

I was wary, but I opened my eyes.

“You’re hurt, and I don’t want your death on my conscience.”

By the time she’d finished tending me, I lay flat on my stomach, the remains of my shirt discarded, the cuts and gouges cleaned, and a greasy salve coated my back and shoulders.  Though tender hands had succeeded in keeping me alive, I considered the cost of letting her doctor me.  Death would take longer to come.

Chapter 22

“Tomorrow we split up,” Ben said, and they headed for the house.  “We’re not making any progress by sticking together.”

“Ain’t no trace of neither of ‘em, Pa.  It don’t make sense that Miss Pauline would be missin’ too.  There’s no way she and Joe’d be together.  He can’t hardly stand the sight of that gal.”

“I know, Hoss, and Roy’s way off base if he thinks there’s a connection between any of the parties involved.  I can’t explain Joe’s disappearance.  I can’t explain Pauline Sears’ either, but one thing’s certain.  If, in fact, there’s some bizarre connection, it wasn’t your brother’s idea.”

“Maybe there’s something Martin hasn’t told us.”

“What are you getting at, Adam?”

“Well, he’s the only connection between both parties.  Maybe he knows something we don’t.”

“Why don’t you head down to the Yellow Jacket first thing in the morning.  You might be on to something, son.  Hoss and I’ll ride out.  Hoss?”  Ben turned to his middle son.  “What does your gut tell you?  Where do we look next?”

Chapter 23

I tried to sleep.  Even though Pauline had lowered a bedroll on top of me, I shivered from the cold.  Maybe fever had set in.  If I lived to see the sun rise and feel the morning warmth against my face, I still didn’t stand a chance.  My family would never know my fate.

Fitful sleep was like no sleep at all.  I’d watched the moon rise and set.  I watched the morning sun make its way over faraway peaks, and I watched Pauline begin to stir.  She’d made her bed several feet from mine, blankets, a soft pillow—the works.

She hadn’t bothered to tie my wrists.  She’d removed the noose from my neck so she could tend the blistering rope burns, but she didn’t trust me completely.  She’d tied my ankles and secured a lead rope to the seat of the wagon.  She was a very careful woman.

Maybe it was time to talk, to seek answers, to try to understand why she brought me on such a foolhardy journey.  If she’d wanted me dead, she would’ve killed me by now.  If the lady thought I could stand up and run again tomorrow, she was mistaken.  She’d exercised my last bit of strength when she doctored my shoulders and back.

Pauline stood and straightened her skirts.  She tied the little sash at the neckline of her blouse then twisted from side to side to alleviate the kinks and soreness from sleeping on the ground.  I watched her bend at the waist and flatten her palms on the desert floor before standing tall and stretching both arms over her head.

“Better,” she said.  “Nothing like a good night’s sleep.”

After stepping my way, she brought her hands to her hips and stared down at me.  I didn’t move.  I couldn’t if I tried.  “Your face is flushed, Joseph.”  She squatted down on her haunches and felt my forehead.  “Fever.  That might slow us down.”

I waited for her to hitch the team and tighten the noose around my neck, but I didn’t think I’d last an hour on my feet, and then what?  She’d drag me the rest of the way?  I was starving and thirsty and could barely lift my head off the ground.  I’m sorry, Pa, but I’m fighting a battle I can’t win.

“You were stronger and healthier when we left town.  You’ve lost weight, but I guess that’s to be expected.”

I tried to clear my throat.  I hadn’t spoken for hours, and my voice came out gravelly and hoarse.  I coughed madly.  “What did you expect?”

“You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“Why we’re here, of course.”

Her voice was so damn cheerful, I wanted to smack her silly, but I didn’t have enough energy to lift myself off the ground much less start a fight with a mad woman.   I turned my head to face the wagon, but the subtle movement took a toll, and I tried to cover a groan by gripping the blanket with both hands.  The pain was slow to subside.

“You poor, lost soul.  You brought this on yourself, Joseph.  You have no one else to blame.”

Her words betrayed her true feelings.  She enjoyed seeing me helpless and afraid.  She had all the power, and she thrived on the fact that I couldn’t help myself, that I couldn’t move a muscle without crying out.  This was more than a kidnapping.  She wasn’t looking for ransom.  She didn’t want me dead either.  What was I missing?  What kind of evil game was she playing?

Adam talked about games.  “No more games,” he cried out in his sleep.  “No more games,” but he never explained what he meant.  Adam changed after Kane.  He’d become more vocal during sleep than during waking hours.  Pa tried to console, but Adam wouldn’t let him in.  He never let anyone into the nightmare that plagued him most nights.

“You poor thing.  I should’ve fattened you up more before we started the drive.”

The drive?

Pauline set out her medical supplies before she pulled the blanket from my back.  “Oh, my,” she said.  “This doesn’t look good, Joseph.  Not good at all.”

I wanted to scream— “Don’t lay a hand on me,” —but a sniveling whimper resulted instead.  The cool morning air felt like ice against the exposed area of skin, and although I tried to control my trembling, I braced myself when she began to probe.

“I must tend these wounds, Joseph.  You’re my livelihood, an important source of revenue.  I’m already responsible for the loss of one little heifer down by Buckhorn Creek.  God knows I can’t lose another.”

What in God’s name?  I breathed in deeply and tried to form a few words.  “Just leave me be, Pauline.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I beg you.”

“I’ll clean the deeper cuts first.  Do you need something to bite on?  I didn’t think of that last night, and I apologize.  That was thoughtless of me, wasn’t it?  But I’m new at this, you see.  I’m learning as I go.”

My heart thumped like a bass drum.  She hadn’t begun, but I cringed at the thought of her touching me.  I knew the fiery burn of alcohol, and I knew that Doc always mixed a powder before he tended to severe wounds.  Sometimes I balked, but Doc knew best.  He knew what a man could tolerate and what was too much to endure.

“Don’t do this,” I begged.  “It’s over, Pauline.  For God’s sake, take me back to town.”

“Oh, Joseph.  You underestimate me.”

“Please …”

Chapter 24

“I’ve drawn up a map, Pa.  I’ve marked where we’ve been already and where we still might wanna look.”

“That’s good, son.  It’s just you and me today so we need to be productive.”

“That’s my thinkin’ too so let’s check the map together.”  Hoss laid his masterpiece on the dining room table.  “Miguel said Little Joe didn’t rent a horse from the livery, and we know he didn’t ride Cochise.  He didn’t take a stage outta town neither, which means he’s on foot unless he borrowed a horse, but we’ve already checked with his friends and that didn’t pan out either.”

Ben stared down at the map.  They’d covered Virginia City and Gold Hill, and as far south as Dayton and Carson.  They’d ridden over to Genoa late yesterday afternoon, and no one recalled seeing a young man wearing a tan hat and green jacket.  They’d checked Ponderosa line shacks.  They’d searched every abandoned mine and crawled into a few remote caves Hoss said he and Joe used to play in as kids, but nothing turned up.

“What do you suggest, son?”

“Well, we’re gonna have to widen our circle.  If Joe went north, he might have run into unfriendly Paiutes.  East is Starvation Flats and west, well there’s California and the coast. That don’t make sense and neither does anything else, but that’s where we’re at, Pa.”

Ben shook his head.  “Joe wouldn’t head to the desert.  No fool in his right mind would, not this time of year.  I guess Paiutes are an option but there hasn’t been an uprising for years, which leaves California but why?  He doesn’t know anyone that far west.”

“If little brother had been kidnapped, we would’ve received a ransom note by now, so we can rule that out.  But there ain’t no reason Joe would’ve left town on his own.  He said he’d meet you at the post office, and Joe don’t lie.  Somethin’s happened to him, Pa.  Someone’s got him hid away or he’s hurt, and he can’t get home.”

“I’ve considered all that too, Hoss, and you’re right, but we can’t just sit and wait for him to drag himself back to the Ponderosa.”

“I know that, Pa, and I’m with you a hundred percent.  I just ain’t sure which way we should ride.”

Chapter 25

When the whistle sounded, eight men at a time were hauled up from the mines in iron cages.  Adam waited for Martin Sears to be lifted from the depths of the earth, and the third time the lift carried men to the surface, he stepped out on solid ground.  Soot-faced men shaded their eyes from the bright sunlight, and Martin was no exception.  Each headed straight to their lunch pail and found a seat at long wooden tables for a half-hour reprieve from the underground pit.  Adam waved his hat at Joe’s friend.

“What brings you down here, Adam?  Good news, I hope.”

“No, but mind if we talk while you eat?”

“Over here,” he said.  “I ain’t told none of the men about my wife.  It’s embarrassing, you know.  I ain’t been married but a couple of months, and now I’ve misplaced my bride.  The fellas would talk, and that ain’t the kind of talk I wanna hear.”

“I understand.”

“I found something odd though.  Maybe I should show you.”

“Something about Pauline?”

“I don’t know.”

The two men sat on a fallen log and Martin opened his pail.  “I’m glad to share.”

“No, I’m fine.  You go ahead.”

After biting into a crisp apple, Martin reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a woman’s necklace, a diamond cut ruby dangled at the end of a gold chain.

“Beautiful,” Adam said.  “Pauline’s?”

“No, and that’s the problem.  This ain’t her necklace, but I found it on the little dressing table I bought her for a wedding present.  She saw the fancy piece of furniture in Cole’s front window when we was still courtin’ and mentioned how pretty it was.  I put a deposit down the next day and had it paid off by the time we was married.”

“You’re a good man, Martin.”

“Thanks, but I kinda got off track, didn’t I?  Anyway, this little necklace was lying on top of the table.  It ain’t my wife’s, Adam.”

“I have an idea whose it might be.  If you’ll let me do some investigating, maybe I can find the rightful owner.”

“You think?”

“I can try.”

Martin handed the necklace to Adam.  “Only thing I can think is that Pauline found it on the boardwalk or in the street and never had time to find the rightful owner.”

“I’m sure that’s the case.  Why don’t I stop by Roy Coffee’s office on the way home?  Maybe someone came to him and mentioned the loss.”

“That’s a good idea.  It’ll make Pauline happy too.”

“Still no word?”

Martin shook his head.  “I don’t know what to think, Adam.  I ain’t gotta clue where she went or if she’ll come back.  She never said a word.  I went to work that day, and when I got home, she was gone.”

Adam tried to sound out his words before speaking.  Joe and Martin had been friends for years, and he didn’t want to damage their relationship by putting Martin on the defensive.  “Let me ask you this.”

“What’s that?”

“My brother and your wife went missing on the same day, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And neither Joe nor Pauline has returned home.  They’ve both been missing for the same amount of time.”

“What are you gettin’ at, Adam?”

“I don’t know, but I’m trying to find logic in a difficult situation.”  Adam pulled off his hat and fingered the brim between his knees.  “Is there anywhere Pauline would want to go?  You said your wagon was missing, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Would she have asked Joe to drive her somewhere?”

With his lunch forgotten and his pail pushed aside, Martin shook his head.  “I don’t know where, Adam.”

“Was there anything she needed or wanted that she couldn’t buy in Virginia City?  Carson or maybe Genoa?”

“Nothin’ I know of.”

Adam had run out of questions.

“You don’t think they run off together, do you?”

“Joe and Pauline?”  Adam muffled a laugh with a fisted hand.  “Not a chance.”  He stood from the fallen log and extended his hand to Martin.  “I’ll check on the necklace and let you know what I find out.”

Martin stood too.  “I don’t mean no disrespect, Adam, but I know Joe better’n anyone, and if he’s taken off with my wife and his thoughts ain’t honorable, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“Save your breath, Martin, and let me give it to you straight.  Joe would never run off with your wife.”

Adam mounted Sport and left Gold Hill behind.  It wasn’t a long ride back to Virginia City, but the solitude gave him time to think.  Pauline and Joe.  He was well aware of their disastrous dinner-date, which, in turn, ended any future engagements.  Martin was safe where Joe was concerned.

As Adam approached the jailhouse, the sheriff stood outside his office door.  Ready to make his afternoon rounds, Adam would detain Roy long enough to show him the necklace.  The thoughts running through his mind were gruesome, and he hoped he was wrong, but he was willing to take a shot.  He had nothing to lose.  If he was right, though, his brother might have everything to lose.

“Roy,” he called from atop his horse.  “Got a minute?”

“Howdy, Adam.  Any news about Joe?”

“No, not yet, but I have something I’d like to show you.”

Chapter 26

“Oh, God,” I cried.  “No more … no more.”

“Just hold still, Joseph.  You’re such an infant.  You know these wounds must be tended.  What would you do if wolves attacked your prize bull?  You’d tend him the best you knew how.  No matter how much the animal suffered, it would be worth it if the poor creature lived, would it not?”

“I’m not an animal.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Joseph.  If only you’d choose to listen.”

“Just leave me be.”

“Soon, Joseph.  I’m nearly finished.”  A fiery blaze radiated from my back and shoulders that was as close to hell as I’d ever been.  “Some of the deeper gashes should’ve been sutured last night, but I didn’t bring the right tools.  You understand, don’t you?  I’m doing the best I can with what I have available.”

I didn’t answer; I didn’t have the strength.  With talons of fire stabbing my skin, I didn’t care what she said.  My life was in her hands.  Whatever she thought best is how it would be.  I had no say.  A ripping sound caught my attention, and I lifted my head off the ground.

“Quit fussing, Joseph.  I’m out of bandages, and I’m forced to use strips of my undergarments to wrap your wounds.  I’ll be finished in a minute.”

Letting my head fall back on the blanket was stupid and careless and caused me to stifle a cry.  I didn’t know why the ripping noise had bothered me so, but strange sounds in the desert seemed to intensify, and my tolerance was bordering on insanity.

Every time she made a move, my senses heightened, and I became anxiously alert.  I stressed over my weakness.  I fretted over her intentions, but my fears became even more relevant when she finished dressing my wounds.  She was adamant about keeping me alive so she could carry out some master plan.  She wanted me healthy and alert.  I dreaded what was to come.

She’d built a small campfire and by midnight, the fire had dwindled down to hot, glowing coals.  If I didn’t run now, the fear of what tomorrow might bring seemed foreboding and sinisterly grim.

Her negligence had been my savior.  Thinking I was too sick to run, she hadn’t secured me in the usual ways.  At some point, I knew she’d make a mistake, but I wasn’t in the best of shape.  How far could I make it by morning?

Once she’d fallen asleep, I grabbed three full canteens, all she had left in the wagon.  Another lay next to her on the ground, but I left that one alone.  I wasn’t an animal.  Only a wicked, wicked man would take her last drop of water.  I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and began my journey through the desert alone.

Chapter 27

Just as Adam suspected, the ruby necklace had belonged to Sally Ann Wilson.  Her father identified the piece as a gift he and his wife had given her on her twenty-first birthday just three months ago.

When Adam arrived back at the ranch, a light still shone in the window over his father’s desk.  He figured as much.  Even after searching all day for Joe, his pa wouldn’t retire until his eldest “boy” was back under his roof.  Since it was long after supper, he probably thought he had two sons missing and couldn’t have slept anyway.

Adam stabled his horse and when he came out of the barn, Ben stood on the porch to greet him.  “Wondered where you were, son.”

“I’m sorry it’s so late, but I have some news to share.”

“Good news?”

“Yes and no.”

“There’s coffee on the stove.  I’m sure we could both use a cup.”

Adam followed Ben to the kitchen.  “I take it you didn’t have any luck.”

Ben turned and shot him a look.  “Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  Hoss and I rode up to Paiute country.  Another day wasted.”

After pouring two cups and sitting in front of the fireplace, Adam started his story.  “I won’t bore you will all the details, but Martin handed me a necklace he found on Pauline’s dressing table.  I took the piece to Roy and thought I’d get his viewpoint before I gave him my own perspective, but his response wasn’t what I expected.”

“No?”

“He asked if I’d gotten the necklace from Little Joe.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m dead serious, Pa, and I proceeded to tell him that Martin found it lying on his wife’s dressing table.  I didn’t go any further, though.  I wanted Roy to think he’d come up with the idea that it might be Sally Ann’s.”

“Oh, no.  Was it the girl’s?”

“We rode out to the Wilson’s together, and Mr. Wilson identified it as his daughter’s.”

“I don’t understand.  Why would Pauline have Sally Ann’s necklace?”

“Roy says it’s not enough evidence to convict, but it’s suspicious.”

“Oh, Adam.  I can’t believe Martin’s wife had anything to do with that girl’s death.”

Ben set his cup down and moved toward the decanter of brandy.  As he poured two shots, Hoss appeared at the top of the stairs.  “You fellers know what time it is?”

“Come on down, son.”

“Think I’ll get me a piece of cake.  Don’t say nothin’ till I get back.”

Adam rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.  “Guess we’ll wait.”

When Hoss returned with a full plate, Adam explained the situation with Sally Ann and Pauline and continued from there.

“If,” Adam said, “and I’m saying if since we don’t know anything for sure, Pauline had something to do with the Wilson girl’s death, then maybe she had something to do with Joe’s disappearance.”

“You ain’t sayin’ Joe’s already dead, are you?”

“That’s not what I said, Hoss.  I’m just saying maybe we need to rethink this whole thing.  Maybe Joe and Pauline are together somewhere and—”

“And what, son?  You think they ran off together?”

“NO!”  Adam’s frustration mounted.  “What I’m trying to say is that maybe Pauline convinced Joe to go with her … somewhere.  A ruse to get him—I don’t know, out of town or hidden away in Virginia City.  I don’t know where or why, and I don’t know any more than the two of you, but both parties are missing, and I’m beginning to think Roy might be right.  This whole mess could be connected.”

Chapter 28

The sliver of moon did nothing to light my way.  The three canteens hung heavy on my damaged shoulder.  I tried carrying them in my left hand while I gripped the blanket with my right, but I was off balance, clumsy, and I needed to concentrate if I wanted to make it through Starvation Flats, but my feet were my main concern.  How far could I walk, and where would I find a decent place to hide?

After a mile or so, I needed a minute’s rest and I sat down on the ground.  I couldn’t chance Virginia City, and Placerville was too far so I’d chosen Fort Churchill as my destination.  Since Pauline hadn’t been in the area long, I figured the army post was a safe bet.  If I made it that far, I could wire my family and be home in my own bed within hours.

Once I was back on my feet, my legs barely held my weight.  I could come up with every excuse in the book why I should call it quits except I wasn’t ready to die, and sitting on my butt only gave Pauline more time to find me than forcing myself to move forward.  Every muscle ached.  I hadn’t eaten in so long I was light-headed and often stumbled and veered left or right.

Maybe I was playing a fool’s game.  Setting off alone in the desert wasn’t a perfect solution, but what other choice did I have?  Adam would call it the stupidest stunt I’d ever pulled, but hadn’t he fought through the same situation too?  I wish he’d talked to me.  I wish he’d told me about Kane.

The ground had become more rocky than sandy, and I felt every pebble and dry bone the buzzards had left behind.  Ahead stood a rock formation shaped like the face of a man, a rather fat man, and I headed that direction.  I needed sleep and a place to hide.  The fat man was just the ticket.

After taking a long and satisfying drink, I set the canteens next to fat face and moved enough rocks and pebbles that I wouldn’t be jabbed to death while I slept.  Morning would come soon, and Fort Churchill was still miles away.

I curled into a tight ball, but sleep wouldn’t come.  I played with the little pile of rocks I’d scattered so I could lay down and lined them up from smallest to biggest to smallest, but I was still wide-awake when the dark silhouette of a man—an old-timer I didn’t recognize and might never see again—walked up to my camp.  “Eighty miles to water,” he said.

“I’ve got water,” I mumbled, but he’d said all he had to say and kept walking.  Maybe he was a dream.  A vision.  A mirage.  I blinked my eyes and sat up tall, but he was gone.

I picked up a rock and fingered the pointy edge with my thumb.  And then I got creative.  I carved my initials into the fat man’s chin.

Chapter 29

While Ben and Hoss rode in to discuss the Wilson girl’s death with Roy Coffee, Adam headed back down to Gold Hill and the Yellow Jacket mine.  He sat on the fallen log and waited for the lift that would bring Martin Sears to the surface.  He needed more information and hoped Joe’s friend was the key to solving the mystery.

At half past ten, the iron cage made a trip down, and Martin was in the first group of eight to unload.  Adam stood and caught his eye.  He waved him over and held up a basket.

“Working twelve-hour shifts,” Adam said, “I figured cooking was a low priority.”

“You figgered right.  I appreciate the kindness and all, but Pauline set me straight on a few things.  I’m sorry, Adam.  I can’t accept the basket.”

“Oh?”

“She told me about her quarrel with Joseph, and I guess that applies to the whole family, but I found her beliefs well founded.  She makes a lot of sense, Adam.  Why should we brutalize those less fortunate than ourselves?”

“You mean cattle.”

“Cattle, pigs, chickens.  They’re all God’s creatures, ain’t they?”

“Yes, but …”

“Ain’t no buts about it.  You either believe in God or you don’t.”  At Adam’s request, Hop Sing had fried a chicken that morning for Martin.  “She made me see the light, Adam.  We’re all God’s creatures, and if I’m gonna live by the Good Book then it’s time I changed my ways.”

“That’s fine for you, Martin, but not everyone thinks the same way.”

“No, but think about the horrors those poor animals go through.  Branding.  Butchering.  When you think how inhumane—well, I don’t suppose that’s what a rancher like yourself wants to hear, is it?”

It was senseless to argue the point.  Pauline married a man she could sway to her way of thinking.  So be it.  Adam wasn’t about to step foot between a husband and his wife.

Both men took a seat on the log and Adam set the basket a good distance from Martin.  Again, he found himself twisting his hat between his knees.  “This is hard for me to say, Martin, but I learned who owned the necklace.”

“That’s good.  That’ll make Pauline happy.”

Adam wasn’t so sure, but he’d let Joe’s friend work things out himself.  “The necklace belonged to Sally Ann Wilson, the girl that was murdered about a week ago down by Buckhorn Creek.”

“Oh, I heard.  Wasn’t she Joe’s girl?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“You say Buckhorn Creek?”

“Yeah.”

“My wife and I saw Joseph and his girl down there one Sunday after church.  We was headin’ elsewhere, but I waved as we passed.”

“Joe and Sally Ann?”

“Yeah, and you say that’s where she died?”

“Yes.”

“That’s kinda spooky, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Bet Joe’s upset.”

“He is.  We all are, but Joe and Sally Ann had gone their separate ways a couple of weeks before she died.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.  Pauline told me they planned to marry.”

Adam’s ears perked at Martin’s statement.  “Marry?  She told you that?”

“Yeah, and I was happy for him.  Thought he finally found the girl of his dreams.”

“No, not with Sally Ann, but there’s something that bothers me, Martin.”

“What’s that?”

“Why do you think your wife had a dead girl’s necklace?”

Martin thought for a minute then narrowed his eyes.  “You ain’t accusin’ Pauline of—you hold on there, Adam.”

Adam threw his hands in the air.  “I’m not accusing anyone, but you have to admit it’s a bit odd that your wife would have the girl’s necklace, isn’t it?”

“She probably found the darn thing and didn’t know who it belonged to.”

“Where’s your wife now, Martin?”

The young man shook his head.  “I don’t know, but I could ask the same question about Joseph.”

“Since my brother and your wife are missing, I’ve concluded that she and Joe are together somewhere.  Do you know where they are?”

Martin stood from the fallen log.  “I told you I don’t know where she’s at, and I’ll tell you this too.  If Joseph had anything to do with Pauline’s disappearance, he’s a dead man.  You’re talkin’ about my wife, Adam Cartwright.  She ain’t no killer, and she ain’t with your damn brother.”

Even though Martin’s voice could be heard clear to the mine, Adam remained calm.  “Then where is she?”

Martin jabbed his finger at Adam’s chest.  “Don’t you come ‘round here no more, ya hear?  I’m done talkin’ about your brother and my wife.  You got it all wrong, Adam.  My wife can’t stomach your brother or any of you Cartwrights.  She told me that straight out.  Butchers, she called you.”

“Butchers?”

“I’m done talkin’.  My wife is my business, and it’s time you left both of us alone.”

Although Martin stormed off, Adam didn’t move a muscle.  “Butchers?”

Chapter 30

I didn’t hear the wagon pull to a stop, and I didn’t hear Pauline walk up, but I heard her engage the hammer of my Colt, and I bolted to a seated position.  The blanket fell from my shoulders, and my head fell to my chest.  I never stood a chance.  “How’d you find me?”

“Does it matter?”

“What happens now?”

“You still don’t get it, do you, Joseph?  Are you that dimwitted?  I thought you’d catch on by now, but you’ve justified your actions for so long, you can’t see the flipside of the coin.”

“The what?”

With my gun in one hand, she tossed the end of a rope at me.  “Tie this around your waist.  All strays will be taken back to the herd.”

I’m sure I looked like hell, but Pauline didn’t look much better.  Her dark, black hair had fallen from a tightly fashioned chignon.  Her skirt was soiled with my blood; the hemline was frayed and torn.  Her pure white skin was streaked with desert dust, and her perfectly manicured nails had become ragged and untidy.

“As sick as you were, I felt generous and didn’t tie you to the wagon but rest assured, Joseph, I never make the same mistake twice.”

I stood to my feet.  “This whole thing’s a mistake.”

“No, you’re whole life’s a mistake.  You, your brothers, your father.”

“Don’t bring my family into this, lady.  They’ve done nothing to you.”

“Nothing?  Every rancher’s the same, Joseph.  Cruel and violent.”

“What about Martin?  Is he in on this too?”

“Martin is a good man, but he lacks what it takes to punish men like you.  He’s always been a loyal friend, Joseph, but time will set him straight.  He’s learning, and he’s accepting God’s ways.  The tide is turning, little man.”

I wanted to laugh.  “Wise or afraid he’ll lose you?  There’s a difference, Pauline.”

“You’re so smart, aren’t you?  Just like your father and brothers, the powerful Cartwrights, the most respected cattle barons in western Nevada.  All that wealth and power is the work of Satan.”

“Satan?”  I cried.  “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?  Who wants all the power now, lady?  What kind of righteous bull are you preaching?”

“You’re a sick man.  Sick and evil and disgusting!”  She’d lowered the gun to her side but raised it again and aimed for my head.  “What happens to sick cattle, Joseph?  Do you aim for the head or the heart?”

I’d counted on Pa to rescue me, but that hadn’t happened, and in my efforts to tell it straight, I’d riled an unstable woman.  I’d vowed not to upset her but like always, I lost my temper and had provoked her beyond reason.

After lowering the gun to her side, she moved toward the wagon.  If I tried to run now, she’d shoot me in the back.  If I’d been thinking straight, if my fever hadn’t been so high when I left camp, I would’ve grabbed my gun before I took off.  A reckless move on my part, but it was too late to dwell on stupid mistakes.

“Let’s go, Joseph.”

Her voice was calm—matter of fact—as if I’d never run and we’d never talked.  I rose to my feet and walked toward the wagon.  Every inch of me hurt, but I didn’t want to die in the desert.  My brother had fought his way out, and maybe I could too.  I was tired, and I was hungry.  I’d run through one canteen yesterday.  Two were left, but I’d given up control of both.  Again, I was at her mercy.

“Put the noose over your head, Joseph.”

I stared at Pauline, but I knew better than to rile her any further.  I slipped the noose over my head.

“Tighten the knot.”

Pauline was tired too.  Her voice wasn’t even the same.  Her demeanor had changed, as though she, too, had grown weary of the game.  Though soft-spoken and almost reverent, she hadn’t lost the will to put me in my place.  She moved closer.

“Lay flat on the ground, Joseph.”  A short piece of rope dangled from her hand.  “Put your hands behind your back.”

She slipped the gun into her waistband.  This was my chance.  As soon as she knelt down, I could take her.  Every muscle tingled with excitement.  I put my hands behind my back and waited for her to squat down.

“Oh, God,” I wailed like a newborn calf.  My shoulders arched involuntarily, and my head flew up off the ground.  The cords in my neck stood taut, and a storm of tears filled my eyes.  Her bootheel found its mark.  A deeper gash on my back split open and nearly paralyzed me.  Effortlessly, she tied my hands.

“Stand up.”

My head reeled with the fury of a wildfire.  I pushed up to my hands and knees; my legs trembled beneath me.  When I tried to raise my right knee, my gut cramped and seized and felt tighter than the noose around my neck.

“Now, Joseph.”

I couldn’t muster the strength to stand.  My stomach was empty, and my throat was dry, and when I pushed up a second time, the violence that comes from dry heaves left me weak and unfocused.  But when I was able to look up, the morning sun backlit my captor with a heavenly halo.  As I reached up to touch the angelic vision, she slapped my hand away, and I tumbled back to the earth.

Chapter 31

Adam didn’t look up when Hoss started in on the previous night’s conversation.  “Butchers,” he said as he dug into his morning breakfast.  “That gal’s got a screw loose.”  He stabbed at an oversized bite of ham and shoved it in his mouth.  “She sure don’t act like any preacher’s daughter I’ve ever known.”  Hoss never looked up but it was obvious he was still bothered by Martin’s statement.

“Only place we ain’t looked yet is Starvation Flats.”  With a mouth full of biscuit, Hoss wasn’t quite finished probing the inner workings of Pauline.  “Think she’d brave the desert this time of year?”

Ben and Adam looked up, and while Adam remained silent, Ben’s lips tightened, and he turned to Hoss with a fixed stare.  “It’s the only place we haven’t looked.”

“You really think?”

“There’s only one way to find out, son.  As soon as the horses are saddled.  Adam’s already secured enough supplies for a four-day ride.”

“Four days?”

“You can’t be too careful,” Adam remarked.

“You should know.”  Hoss dipped his head.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean nothin’—”

“Water under the bridge.”

Though Adam and Hoss never had trouble talking, they’d never spoken about Adam’s weeks with Kane.  The subject was hush-hush, never to be brought up again, and Hoss had just done the very thing that would bring buried memories of that awful time back to life.

“I’ll see to the horses,” Hoss said.  As he moved around the end of the table, he ran his hand across his brother’s shoulder, but nothing more was said.

Ben stood from the table, straightened his shirt collar, and forced a tight smile.  “Ready, son?”

As a last resort?  Is that why they’d put off searching Starvation Flats?  Ben reached for his hat and gunbelt with the beat-up holster, not the new engraved gift Joseph had bought.  Even though he’d already seen his birthday present, Ben had rewrapped the package and set it on top of Joe’s dresser.  He’d celebrate as soon as his son returned home.

Not only had Adam secured numerous canteens of fresh well water, he added extra bedrolls and medical supplies to the list.  He’d filled a canvas bag with kindling and enough wood for two, maybe three fires, and would use Berta, a sturdy packhorse, to carry the extra provisions.

They reached the edge of the desert before noon.  The sun blazed high in the sky and each man stopped to take a drink and decide which direction they would take.

“Straight ahead?”  Hoss asked.  “If I was tryin’ to make time, that’s what I’d do.”

Adam nodded.  “Straight ahead it is.”

“Ain’t no tracks to follow, but I think we should stick together.  This ain’t no place to separate and get lost.”  The three men rode straight into the desert.  “We could spread out some,” Hoss continued.  “Maybe one of us would pick up a trail.”

Adam, who held Berta’s reins, veered to the left while Hoss took off to the right.  Ben kept a steady pace forward.  He took the lead but felt comfort knowing his sons would remain in his wake.

Chapter 32

Lying flat on my belly, a new more ferocious pain had anchored itself to my hip.  I hadn’t fallen or been dragged across the desert floor, yet I was unable to move.  Without warning, my left leg trembled, a skittering motion I couldn’t control, nor could I suppress the ungodly pain.  Had I cried out or was my mind playing tricks?  Maybe I lost my mind, and no one bothered to tell me.

A haunting shade of red stained the desert floor, and I could measure the heat of the day by the changing colors.  The sun’s rays stung like an ill-fitting yoke, and my burden became more demanding the farther I traveled.  Kane was a bigger man, a heavier man than I ever hoped to be, and dragging the travois worked every muscle I had.  I moved at a snail’s pace across the vast wasteland.

“Eighty miles to water.”  That’s what the old-timer had said.  He stood next to the fat man, a place I recognized as a safe haven.  A place I’d been before, but the sight of a golden rainbow was new, and I reached out in awe of its beauty.

At the end of the rainbow, a gateway opened and offered me a reprieve.  A gathering of fairies dressed in various hues welcomed me into their golden kingdom.  Holding bright silver chalices overflowing with wine, they sprang from the earth and circled me on all sides.  I joined in the dance, and we buried ourselves in slips of green grasses while a clear, bubbling waterfall showered nearby.  Heaven was a beautiful place.

“Wake up, Joseph”

I shuddered and curled into a tight ball.  I threw my hands over my head to shield myself from the oncoming storm.  A dark cloud loomed, and I feared the fairies might twirl and scatter like the dry leaves of autumn.

“Now, Joseph.”

My eyes flew open, and the fairies were gone.  The lush green grasses had faded to an ugly brown, and the gnarly, wicked face of a dragon stood over me.  She’d frightened the fairies that danced and romped when she crushed the golden rainbow with her bare hands.  “Go back,” I cried.  “Go away.”

My voice sounded different, a distant murmur that didn’t match the strength of the dragon.  To escape her blistering wrath, I shielded my friends with the blanket and spoke in low tones.  “Shh, be very quiet.”

When the blanket was ripped from my body, the night breeze teased my skin and created leathery pinpricks that had me shivering and curling farther into myself.  Pulling my legs to my chest only heightened the burning pain in my hip, and I hid my tears with both hands.

“You’re hurting, aren’t you, Joseph.”

The dragon stood over me, but I didn’t acknowledge her presence.  The fairies had been my salvation, but they were smart enough to scatter and disappear when the monster came near.  I was past feeling hungry or thirsty and had become too weak to act as their savior.  My body was an empty shell that would burn itself out when death’s hand reached down to take me.

An unexpected splash of pain forced me to reach for my hip, but the dragon pulled my hand away.  “No!  I’ll tend the wound, but you mustn’t touch.”

Tears burned my eyes, and my breathing became hesitant, overloud.  “Please, no more …”

“Settle down, Joseph.  We want the wound to heal properly.”

“No … ”  I struggled for breath.

I lay naked and exposed to the ice-cold wind.  With long, slender claws, the dragon moved about my hip and shot bursts of fire at tender flesh.  A dust devil blasted my eyes and mouth; sand tickled my nose, and I fought like hell to breathe.  When I was offered a drink, I turned my head, but that was wrong.  I paid the price with a brutal slap and a guttural grunt that spewed from the dragon’s mouth.

With the task completed, she settled the blanket back over me, and I curled back into a little ball.  A campfire burned, but it was too far away for comfort.  When it felt safe to open my eyes, the monster sat close to the fire sipping from a tin cup.

My stomach ached when I smelled the boiling brew. Until the familiar scent triggered a burning desire, most of my senses had become dulled from lack of food and drink and pain.

Chapter 33

“I hope we ain’t on a wild goose chase, Pa.  Ain’t no sign that anyone’s been through here in a month of Sundays.”

“I know that, son, but the desert’s like that.  The slightest breeze washes everything away.”

“I know it does.”  Hoss scrubbed his face with his hands.  “But we don’t know if Joe’s dead or alive.  We don’t know if he’s with that woman or not.  We don’t know nothin’ more’n we did the day he went missin’.”

“I’d know if my son were dead.”

Adam poked at the fire he’d built when they made camp nearly an hour ago.  Since there’d been no tracks to follow, they’d ridden into the evening, until their backsides could take no more.  Tomorrow would come soon enough, and they needed sleep if they planned to travel the same number of miles.

“We can’t turn back.”

“What’s that, son?”  Adam’s voice was so soft, Ben could barely make out the words.

“He’s out there, Pa.  We just have to find him.”

Ben didn’t answer his eldest.  He knew or at least tried to understand how a trip through Starvation Flats might affect his private, no-nonsense son.  Adam had kept to himself most of the evening, and Ben worried that their search for Joe had brought a host of unsettling memories of Kane.

Adam had been lost to them.  He’d gone into the desert and never come out.  Joe’s telegram from Salt Flats came as an urgent request for help, but after days of looking in hundred-degree heat, Hoss and Joe tried to convince him that Adam was gone and couldn’t be found.

Those days of endless searching had been rough on everyone.  His sons had done all they could for the brother they loved, but they both began worrying that they wouldn’t only lose Adam; they’d lose their father to exhaustion if they didn’t turn back soon.

“It’s been two weeks since he left Eastgate.”

Hoss’ words finally registered, and he was right.  The search needed to end.  They’d traveled in circles, hoping to pick up Adam’s trail, but hope was fading and he, too, was ready to call it quits.  That’s until the miracle of life appeared on the desert floor.

Ben blinked repeatedly and adjusted his vision on a man walking through the desert, but not just any man.  “Adam,” he called.  He cupped his hands to his mouth and called again.  “Adam!  Adam!”

Ben stared into the fire.  His eldest still poked and prodded with a long, slender stick that should’ve caught fire but hadn’t.  Was the wood too green or was Adam quick enough to pull the tip away before it ignited?   What kind of game was he playing?

“Pa?”  Hoss’s voice caught Ben’s attention.  “You okay, Pa?”

“I’m fine, son.  Just thinking.”

His eldest stared into the flames, not lifting his head when he spoke?  “Good things, I hope.”

Ben’s eyes lit up and he smiled.  He stared at his eldest boy.  “Very good things.”

They’d found Adam, and if it could happen once, it could happen again.  They’d only searched for one day, and whether it took weeks or months, Ben didn’t care.  Giving up was simple.  Moving forward would take stamina and faith that Joseph could still be found.  A much-loved and much-needed treasure would be waiting at the end of that rainbow.

Chapter 34

“You must eat, Joseph.”

My stomach roiled at the thought, and I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders.  My left hip burned like fire, and I didn’t know why.  I lay on my right side to prevent further discomfort, but it didn’t seem to help.  I’d even tried to stretch out my legs, but the pain intensified.

“I’ll have to spoon-feed you if you won’t eat on your own.”

“Go ‘way …. ”

“I know you’re hurting, but I’ve been told the pain doesn’t last long.”

My thinking was sluggish and blurred by the fairies—the dance, and the drink—and I didn’t know what she meant.

“You’ll be up and running back to the herd in no time, Joseph.”

I fought to dismiss the dragon and her crazed words, but she’d knelt down in front of me, lifted my head, and began spooning some lumpy mess into my mouth.  “Too tired …” I said between bites, but the dragon could be forceful.  She lifted my chin and squeezed my cheeks hard.

“You won’t heal if you don’t eat.  Now, open wide.”  She tormented me with the spoon, shoveling the tasteless slop into my mouth, and I couldn’t put up a fight.  Her eyes were fierce and demanding.  Trapped in a world of pain, there was no way out.

After two bites, I was full, too full, but she kept prodding my lips with the spoon.  “No more,” I said, but my cries were ignored.  The dragon was relentless in her pursuit.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she squealed when the hand-spooned gruel came spewing back out and splattered the hem of her skirt.  “You ungrateful cur!”  Heat flushed my face.  My cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

“Thirsty,” I managed, but she’d already thrown the bowl on the desert floor and stormed off.  She didn’t want anything more to do with me, and she’d made her exit so extreme that I closed my eyes, and I became as small as a fetus once again.

My burning hip kept me awake, and I worried that the dragon would leave me behind to rot, only to have a flock of vultures swoop down and attack my bloated body before I died.  They targeted easy prey, and they had no patience when there was nowhere else to feast.  I didn’t want that happening to me, and I kept a diligent watch.

The campfire still burned; she lay beside the flickering flames.  Though the dragon hadn’t changed her clothes, she’d cleaned her skirt the best she could.  The putrid smell would attract unwanted predators, but she was a smart one.  She never took chances.

Chapter 35

Martin’s day off couldn’t have come soon enough.  He’d read his wife’s diary every night after work and tried to put the pieces together.  Pauline had been gone for days, and so had his best friend.  He’d always called his friend Joseph rather than using his common name—Little Joe—but after so many years; he’d forgotten the reason why.  Pauline had followed suit.  She began referring to him as Joseph, too.

Joseph this and Joseph that.  Day and night, her conversations circled around Joe Cartwright.  To Pauline, his sanctimonious behavior had become intolerable.  Joseph is a butcher.  Joseph is a menace to society.  Joseph needs to be taken down a notch and taught a lesson.  Through every unpleasant dinner conversation, her ruthless rage never seemed to end.  The radical demoralizing of his best friend often became close to a vicious and agonizing refrain.  But he loved her all the same.

He opened her diary to page one.

Case in point:  On the sixth day, God created both animals and humanity.

Case in point:  King James:  Preach the gospel to every creature.

Case in point:  God’s kingdom is for all creatures.

A reference to her dinner date with Joseph.

He took it upon himself to order for me, and I was appalled by his selection.  Although I should’ve pegged him a carnivore, I was sickened by my plate of food and refused to eat.  I conveyed my displeasure.

An artful poem.

All creatures great and small.

Branded and sent to be slaughtered.

I shall not be the spectator to such cruelty,

But with God’s help, I shall witness their mighty fall.

After reading the final entry, Martin studied the two unnerving words, the only words on the page.  Brand and flay.  Her musings were disturbing and had kept him awake most of the night.  Each selection had been fraught with rage and contempt, and as Martin rolled out of bed at daybreak, he studied his three choices once more.

He could let the sheriff read his wife’s diary.

He could ride out to the Ponderosa and show Ben Cartwright.

He could keep Pauline’s musings to himself, and no one would be the wiser.

Chapter 36

“Up’n at ‘em boys.”

Ben stoked the fire back to life, added a few dry sticks, and set a pot of coffee on to boil.  Turning his back to the bright, morning sun, he heard his largest son mumble something incoherent as he rolled onto his back and lifted his oversized hat from his face.

“You say somethin’, Pa?”

“Time to rise and shine, boy.”

Hoss moaned, “Thought that’s what you said.”

Another long day lay ahead, but after glancing at Adam’s bedroll, Ben’s heart skipped a beat.  “Where’s your brother?”

Hoss pushed to his feet.  “Who?”

“Adam, your brother, Adam?  Have you seen him?”

“Ain’t he sleepin’?”

“No, son.”  Ben kept his agitation to a minimum.  Hoss could be as dense as a rock until he got the blood flowing.  “If your brother was still asleep, I wouldn’t be asking.”

Hoss looked toward a big rock where he’d hobbled the horses for the night.  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “He ain’t gone far.  His horse is still here.”

Ben lowered his hat to shield his eyes from the low, morning sun and gazed over the desert floor.  Turning from left to right, he saw nothing.  “Where in the devil?”

Hoss took a different approach and looked behind the big rock.  “You hidin’ out or somethin’?”

“Hidin’ out?  No, just using fat-boy as a backrest.”

“You’re worryin’ Pa to death, you know.”  Hoss extended his hand and helped Adam to his feet.  “Come on.  Coffee’s ready.”

Ben overheard the conversation and moved toward his two sons.  “There you are.”

“Sorry, Pa.  I woke up early.  Thought I’d watch the sunrise.”

“You okay, boy?”

“I’m fine, but there’s something you ought to see.”  Ben glanced at Hoss, but the big man shrugged his shoulders.  “See these pebbles?  They’re arranged in order.  Small to big to small.”

Hoss stared down at the structured formation.  “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“Look closer.  Check out the face of the rock.”

Hoss hiked his pants and squatted down on his haunches.  He stared at the rock face.  His grin amused Ben although he was bewildered by his son’s odd behavior.

“Come look, Pa.  Look real close.”

Ben lowered himself next to Hoss and wondered why his grown sons were carrying on like children.  And then he saw the cryptic marks scratched into the rock.  He ran his fingers over the carving — JFC.

Nothing made sense in the desert, but the initials gave Ben more hope than he’d had in days.  When his eyes began to water, he looked away, but it was too late.  Hoss slid his arm across Ben’s shoulders.  He’d nearly lost control.  This wasn’t the time or place, and he fought to restrain the joy that seized his heart.  He prayed they weren’t too late.

“Let’s ride.”

Chapter 37

She carried three poles—fencing posts, I think—in the back of the wagon.  I’d been feverish for so long, I hadn’t thought much about anything until she stood on the tailgate and began strapping one end together to form a teepee-like structure.  If she chose to tend me inside the newly formed lodge, maybe I wouldn’t freeze to death or sweat so much under the noonday sun.

My dreams of fairies and rainbows had long since passed.  I traveled to a darker place now, a hurtful place that excluded family or friends and often brought me to tears when I couldn’t escape the pain.

Dreams are like that, though.  Dropped into the depths of a whirlwind fantasy, the mind takes an unlikely journey where the soul is imprisoned by fear and anxiety, and the mind learns to accept the confines of a living hell.  Day and night become one.  Real and imagined meld together and capture the mind at its lowest point.

The dragon forced water down my throat.  Since the canteens had sat in the sun for days, that alone might’ve caused the bitter taste, but I managed to swallow.  My lips were cracked, the corners bled, but tainted water wasn’t the only thing that assaulted my senses.  Besides the fact that I had to lay in my own filth, the bright morning sun felt like another form of punishment to my sleep-deprived eyes.

A prolonged fever can bring on a slew of unwanted dreams, and my dream-filled night had been no exception.  Not only had I fought the dragon’s fury, I discovered a newfound reality.  The wearing effect of never-ending pain challenged my sanity.

Chapter 38

Hoss recalled the last time he’d seen the same controlled look on his father’s face.  It wasn’t that long ago, but it scared him just the same.  The search for Adam had brought an unease that was hard to explain other than sheer determination, little rest, and little food.

The similarities were haunting.  With Adam’s disappearance, his father had found his brother’s gunbelt near a low mound of rock, as if it had been placed rather than thrown. They’d the same discovery this morning when Adam spotted the carving.

The initials gave hope, but the look in his father’s eyes was back, and Hoss knew they wouldn’t dismount until Joe was found.  They’d never stopped looking for Adam.  Even after he and Joe had begged their father to rest, his pa was adamant about moving on.  “After we find him.”  Blank-faced, that’s all he said.

They continued east through Starvation Flats.  Water was a forbidden luxury, and trees that provided shade were nonexistent.  Hell on earth some had called it.  Early settlers to the area had seen the godforsaken land and turned back.  They’d been told of rich farmland in California, but after approaching the sea of nothingness that lay before them, some gave up hope of ever finding the dreamland they’d been promised.

Hoss and Adam flanked Ben at a steady pace.  With no way to set bearings, no rock formations or hanging cliffs, only distant mountain peaks, gray against the sky, Hoss offered a suggestion.  “Think we should split up?”

“Probably a good idea,” Adam said and pulled the packhorse away from his father as he’d done the day before.  Adam moved left and Hoss moved right.

“Not too far,” Ben reminded his sons as they rode away.

They searched for tracks that weren’t there, but Ben didn’t want either son out of his sight, within calling distance if need be.  Hoss knew the rules.  He knew his father’s mind.  He’d traveled across wastelands before.

Chapter 39

“I need to tend the wound, Joseph.”

She stripped off the blanket and tossed it aside.  My hip still burned like fire, but when I tried to remember the details, the dream returned and plagued my mind.  Often, I gasped for air.

When truth and nightmares collide, illusions seem real, and I was often caught off guard.  More importantly, I feared what was to come.  Even if I blinked my eyes, I didn’t know if I was asleep or awake.  A woman tending a naked man didn’t seem proper though I didn’t shy away.  My dignity was no longer an issue, but when the bandage was torn from my hip, I breathed in deep and clutched the sandy dirt with my hands.

“It looks better.  Still red and swollen, but that’s to be expected on skin as opposed to hide.”

Hide?

The conversation was one-sided.  I rarely responded, and she rarely explained.  I was too sick to care.  I’d been out of it for so long, it was hard for me to grasp much of the conversation at all.  The sun’s warmth felt good, though.  Even with the blanket pulled over my shoulder, I’d shivered all night, maybe even cried out at one point, but she hadn’t mentioned anything that I might’ve said or done in my fevered state.

In that respect, my father was different.  Not that he bad-mouthed me for still having nightmares, but he always came running, which embarrassed me all the same.  He’d want to talk, and the last thing I wanted to do was explain what was bothering me.  That’s what nightmares are all about.  A hidden fear that’s hard to bring to light, that didn’t want to be discussed in the dead of night, but Pa thought he was doing right by me.

“Want to come downstairs and have something to eat?”

Hell no, I don’t want to eat.  “No, thanks,” I’d say instead, but it was a kindness on his part.  He only wanted to help, and I loved him for that.  I missed him too, him and my brothers, and wondered how I’d gotten myself into such a fix that I’d let a woman tend a fire-eating wound.

I wasn’t thirsty, but she insisted I drink more water from the canteen.  It still had that funny taste, but I chalked it up to the fever that had racked my body for so long.  Nothing tasted right when an illness took over.  I should know.  I’d lived through childhood diseases, broken bones, and even been gun shot.  I knew what it was like to feel like hell and this was no different.  Hell was hell.

I drank, and she covered me.  I fell back asleep in no time.  When I woke, the blanket was gone and the sun’s rays were so intense, I could barely open my eyes.  My arms had been pulled from their sockets, and my shoulders cried out in pain.  I looked around me.

Strung up like a side of beef, centered between the teepeed polls, I gasped repeatedly until I could slow my breathing and figure out what the hell happened.  Only my toes touched the ground, and I was helpless to remedy the situation.  Did I have sufficient resolve to survive my current nightmare?

The sun’s heat pounded the top of my head, and I could feel the pull on my arms.  I was a grown man, much too old to have the constant assault of nightmares, but all my senses responded.  Why couldn’t I distinguish reality from fantasy?  One on top of the other.  Each becoming more fantastic than the one before.

The wagon was gone.  She was gone, and I was hanging from three fence posts in the desert.  What did the dream mean?  Dreams always had meanings.  Fear, loathing, lies, and threats, all those things wrapped up in a neat little package only this time I was at a loss.  I cried out for Pa and Hoss and Adam, my saviors, but that was the biggest laugh of all.

“I’m here, Pa.  Over here, Hoss.”  I giggled like a madman until tears stung my eyes.  “Can you see me?  I’m hanging inside a teepee.  Pa … Hoss … Adam.”

Chapter 40

“We need to stop, Pa,” Hoss said.  “The horses need rest.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

Ben was strung tight, and Hoss glanced at Adam.  Too much time in the desert changed a man, and Ben was hovering on the edge of his endurance.  The way he sat his horse, hunched forward and becoming ever fearful of what they might find.  Every mile they traveled, sadness like no other etched another deep crease in his face.

Most men couldn’t survive in the desert alone.  Was Joe with Mrs. Sears?  Did they have food and water?  Questions no one could answer, but questions that plagued everyone’s mind.  Each filled their hats with water and let their mounts drink.  They walked the next mile:  The horses deserved a rest.

Chapter 41

I prayed the golden rainbow and dancing fairies would reappear, but the dragon stood in front of me clutching her fists to her sides.  Mirages are like that.  When reality falters, nightmares invade the soul and render a man helpless and afraid.  To save my sanity, I begged the dragon for mercy.

“Help me!  Please … help me.”

Her response was laughter, and I let my chin fall to my chest.  Playtime was over.  The fairies were gone.  Cracked and bleeding, my lips felt twice their normal size.  The coppery taste of blood pooled in my gut like a foreign object that should be expelled.  I was a dying man.  The end was near, and I prayed that Pa would never find my bloated body or witness the vultures diving down to feast.

“Stringing you up wasn’t an easy task.  I’m weary, Joseph.  Weary to the bone.”

No one in the desert knew my name; no human even existed except the old-timer who stumbled past the fat man.  That was days ago, maybe even weeks, but a new reality had taken on a life of its own.  It was my dream and my mirage, and I tried to take back control, but the dragon had other plans.

Balancing on my toes left me nearly helpless, but how much help did I need to match wits with an illusion?  I started to giggle.  Muscles I hadn’t used in days tightened as they stretched and pulled, and I tried to gather strength before something broke.  Could I break a bone by laughing?  Hell, it was my dream.  I could break a bone and heal a bone all in one breath.

When the dragon came back into view, I couldn’t believe I’d let things go this far.  She raised her hand shoulder height and slapped the giggle from my face.  My head snapped back, and I twirled on my toes until the dragon yelled, “Enough!”  She scared me half to death, and my heart raced with fear of the unknown.  She seemed so real.

She held a knife in her hand, something akin to a stiletto.  I’d only seen one on display at Cole’s but never paid much attention.  When sun glinted off the silver blade, the weapon looked real to me.  The slap felt real, and if I could clear my head, maybe I could end the nightmare.  I didn’t like the direction we were headed.

The blade tickled my skin when the dragon ran the tip up my chest.  And, when an evil grin appeared, I turned my face away.  With her free hand, she cupped my chin and jerked my head back until my eyes met hers.

“Like most young calves in the herd, you survived the drive and the initial act of human cruelty.  I’ll admit, I never heard anyone scream with such intensity before, but it was to be expected.  Clearly, human flesh isn’t as tough as hide, but you know it had to be done.”

Hide?  Again with the hide.

“I’m afraid your days are numbered, Joseph.”

Numbered?  Why couldn’t I break through and shout back?

The dragon seemed anxious.  She paced back and forth in front of me, wielding her blade as if practicing for an event.  Hoss and I used to play with epees in the same manner.  We’d practice for hours at a time.  En garde.  Lunge and attack.  Engage.  Counterattack.  Glissade. Parry.  But Hoss only dueled out of kindness to me.  I was serious about the craft, and he was keeping his little brother occupied and out of trouble.  It was a game to him and even though he was twice my size, I’d pin him every time.  I was champion of the world.  If only I’d brought my epee.

“Should I start with your shoulders or work from the bottom up?  I don’t want you passing out too soon.  I want you to know how it feels to be at the mercy of a human who’s more powerful than a lowly creature.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but logic prevented me from indulging the dream any further.  Instead, I began laughing.  The dream was so idiotic that I found humor in the way my mind had taken a turn toward the macabre.  I was at the mercy of a dragon that didn’t exist.

“Start anywhere you want, you fiery beast.  I’m at your mercy.”

My head spun just like my body had twirled only moments ago, and I giggled again.  Nothing but bouts of laughter could save me from focusing my mind on the knife-wielding dragon.  I needed a reprieve.  I needed to go home and have Pa come running when panic overtook common sense.

Branded like a calf at spring roundup.  The dragon had stood over me.  Fire as hot as coals burned into my hip, and I screamed.  I screamed and screamed, but the pain lingered into the night and all through the following day.  Even now, my heart pounds when I recalled the fright that nearly destroyed me.  The desert plays tricks.  The world becomes hateful and cruel.

That was a dream I’d readily forget.  I thought I was dying.  I wished I were dead.  I’d never felt so much biting agony in a dream before.  Bitter conflicts or fears of the unknown were common traits of most dreams, but never such gut-wrenching pain.

As the dragon lowered herself to her haunches, I tried to clear my mind of past events.  To set my mind at ease, I summoned the fairies, the green grasses, and splashing waterfall.  Could I force a new dream?  Could the desert show me just one moment of kindness?

Chapter 42

After much consideration, Martin was ready to initiate a conversation with Roy Coffee.  The sheriff greeted him with a friendly hello and asked if there was any word on Pauline.

“No, sir.  Nothing yet, but I thought maybe we should look at this together.”

“Whatcha got there, son?”

Martin hesitated.  Was he doing the right thing?  “I brought my wife’s diary.”

Roy leaned forward in his chair.  “That’s a private matter, ain’t it, son?”

“Yeah, but my wife—see she’s … well, she has different thoughts than most people.”

Roy steepled his fingers.  He was at a loss until the young man continued his explanation.

“She kind of has this quirk about ranchers who raise cattle, it being their livelihood and all.  She don’t like it none, and she can get awful outspoken on the subject.  She’s downright adamant that butchering cattle is a wrongful thing to do.  Let’s just say it upsets her more than it should.”

“I don’t think she’s alone unless she carries her thinkin’ too far and upsets folks.  But that ain’t a crime, son.  You think that’s what she done?  Upset someone then run outta town?  That don’t make much sense, does it?”

Martin pulled a chair in front of Roy’s desk and opened the diary.  “I’ve bookmarked certain pages, Sheriff.”  He handed Roy the musings of a burdened mind.

Case in point:  On the sixth day, God created both animals and humanity.

Case in point:  King James:  Preach the gospel to every creature.

Case in point:  God’s kingdom is for all creatures.

Roy looked up.  “I don’t understand, son.”

“Keep reading.”

He didn’t ask, he took it upon himself to order dinner for me, and I was appalled by his selection.  Although I should’ve pegged him a carnivore, I was sickened by my plate of food and refused to eat.  I conveyed my displeasure.

“Dinner?  Is she referring to you?”

“No, sir.  She had a dinner engagement with Joseph Cartwright when she first come to town.”

“Little Joe?”

“Yes, sir.”

All creatures great and small.

Branded and sent to be slaughtered.

I shall not be spectator to such cruelty,

But with God’s help, I shall witness their mighty fall.

Roy thumbed his mustache before turning to the last page.

Brand and Flay

“Brand and flay?  That’s all it says, Martin.”

“Yes, I know.”

Roy read the words again and looked up.  “What’s that mean?”

“It could be a threat.”

“A threat?”

Martin sat without moving.  Roy studied the words again before he looked up.  “You don’t think …”

“I don’t rightly know, Sheriff.”

“But it’s possible.”

Roy knew all along that the disappearance of Mrs. Sears and Little Joe was connected, and he studied the young man in front of him with a lawman’s eye.  Martin seemed as innocent as the day was long, and it took courage on his part to bring his wife’s diary to light.

“Okay, son.  Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

Chapter 43

The day felt hotter and drier than the day before, and Hoss and Adam had lifted their canteens more frequently, but not Ben.  The desert was taking its toll.  After a quick bite and rest for the horses, Hoss suggested they use an old cavalry trick.  Ride three miles and walk one.  Repeat.

“This dang jerky tastes like straw,” he said after tearing off a bite with his front teeth.

Ben actually smiled.  Conditions never mattered to Hoss.  He knew his food and he wasn’t a happy man.  No one was happy at this point.  They’d found Joe’s etchings and then nothing.  No tracks.  No trail to follow, only flat, desolate land for miles on end.

“How far could they have come?”  Adam said.  “I’m beginning to think we missed something along the way.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, Hoss.  Maybe we’ve come too far?”

“You don’t know that.  Guessin’, same as me and Pa.  All we’ve done since we started this trip is guess.”

“Yeah.  Guess you’re right.”

“Little play on words, big brother?”

“Yeah.  That was my chuckle for the day.  Got anything better?”

“Wish I did.”

Ben leaned back and stretched his aching muscles then bent from side to side.  “We best push on, boys.”

“Straight ahead?”

“I guess so.”

Hoss started laughing and Adam followed suit.

“What’s so funny?”  Ben questioned his sun-weary boys.  Although he loved the sound of their laughter, he’d missed the joke.

“Nothin’, Pa.  Guess we better get movin’.”

“Guess so,” Adam said.

Each man hitched their canteens over their saddle horns and mounted.  An odd sound caught their attention, but Hoss was the first to react.  “You hear somethin’?”

“Sure did.  Coyote maybe?”

“No,” Ben said.  “Human.”

“Joe?”

Chapter 44

The dragon was merciless, and I screamed bloody murder.  It wasn’t pain so much as fear.  When she’d grabbed my ankle and steadied my right foot, I tried to kick out with my left, but I couldn’t bring my toes off the ground.  My shoulders were worthless and couldn’t hold my weight.

“Have you read your bible?  Do you know the story of Bartholomew?  The man was flayed upside down, Joseph.  Do recall the scripture?”

How did the dragon know my name, and why couldn’t I alter the dream?  I wished I were Adam or Hoss.  They never had nightmares.  They never cried out in panic or pain.  “You have an overactive imagination,” Pa said one night.  “It’s part of your nature, son.  You carry your thoughts to bed and your mind keeps churning.  You’re never completely at ease.”

But I had no thoughts, and I didn’t know anyone named Bartholomew.  Fairies and rainbows.  They were my thoughts, but they’d scurried away when the dragon had set up camp.  I could hear my own voice when I cursed and screamed at the Almighty.  “Goddamn you, God.”  I hope He heard me loud and clear.

Pop!  Pop!  Pop!  A distant sound of gunfire?  The dragon stood and blocked my view of the desert and the setting sun.  Blood rushed to my head and tears stained my cheeks as I tried to break free.  “Help me.  God, help me,” I cried.

She held the knife to my throat and whispered in my ear.  “There is no God for men like you.  You will burn in hellfire forever.”

A spray of dust showered me, and I tried to best the dragon, but the stiletto was pressed tight under my chin.  I closed my eyes and prayed she was wrong.  I prayed for the solace of heaven.

A barking voice gave me pause.  I opened my eyes, but my face was upturned.  The dragon had clutched my hair and pulled my head straight back, her steel blade still pressed to my throat.

“Let the boy go, Mrs. Sears.”

A rustling of footsteps and a beautiful scenario crossed my mind.  Had Hoss brought my epee?  Had he come to slay the dragon?  Had I taught him anything at all?

“I should’ve castrated him right off,” she snarled in a low, deliberate voice.  “I had the chance, you know.  Isn’t that part of the ritual?  Castrate, brand, and butcher?”

“Lower the knife, Mrs. Sears.”

The dragon’s words were harsh and rang in my ear, but the second voice I heard was calm and steady.  Maybe it wasn’t Hoss after all.  Maybe Pa had come to slay the dragon.  I didn’t dare move.  Late afternoon heat radiated, and the blade felt like flames had seared my Adam’s apple.

A new voice came from afar.  Adam?  “Castration will generally kill a man if you don’t have optimal skills, Mrs. Sears, but that wasn’t your plan, was it?”  You wanted the kid to suffer.  You wanted to teach him a lesson.”

Mrs. Sears?

“You’re damn right, I did.  I wanted to teach all you Cartwrights.”

“We’re a family of butchers, aren’t we, Mrs. Sears?”

“Don’t come any closer,” she growled.  “I see what you’re up to and it won’t work.”

“Is the kid worth a lifetime in prison?”

“I’ve been chosen by God, you fool.  No one will send me away.”

“Oh, but they will.”

The voice—nearly serene in nature—moved closer.  Footfalls were everywhere, circling.  The dragon yanked my head back farther.  Every muscle tightened, and I gasped for air.  Unable to swallow the rising bile, my body twisted and jerked.  No longer did my feet touch the ground.  I spun like a top, coughing, and wheezing, and sucking in mouthfuls of air.

I tried to open my eyes and watch the dream unfold, but when my arms fell free, my muscles went slack, and I dropped like dead weight … into the arms of my father.  My brothers had slain the dragon.

Chapter 45

“He’s hurt real bad, Doc.”

Ben jumped down off the tailgate and caught up with Hoss and Paul.

“What happened here, Ben?”

“You’ll see for yourself.”

By the time Paul and Ben rushed inside, Hoss had Joe laid out on Doc’s table, his brother’s body still wrapped in a bedroll.  “Son,” Ben said, placing his hand on the wool blanket to keep it in place.  “I want you to go down to Roy Coffee’s and help Adam explain.”

“But, Pa.”

“Please, Hoss.  Do as I ask.”  Paul reached for the bedroll, but Ben stayed the doctor’s hand until Hoss left the room.  When Paul’s eyes narrowed, questioning his friend’s intent, Ben explained.  “I wanted to spare Hoss for now.”

Ben circled the surgical table to Joe’s left side and slipped the blanket down his son’s battered body.  Paul followed and after recognizing the distinctive pine tree brand on his patient’s hip, the doctor was caught off guard.  Though his gasp was minimal, Ben understood the doctor’s disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Ben, but in twenty-three years of practice, I thought I’d seen everything, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“There’s more.”  Ben angled Joe’s leg so Paul could see the backside.

“It looks like he’s been skinned.”  Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ben held his anger in check, but the doctor continued with a valid question.  “Who in God’s name?”

Ben lowered Joe’s leg and slipped his hand over his son’s.  “Pauline Sears.”

“Martin Sears’ new wife?”

Ben squeezed Joe’s hand.  Life still pulsed and he should’ve felt thankful.  “My best guess is that she … I can barely get the words out, Paul, but if you put all the pieces together, the result is that Joe crossed miles of open desert barefoot, then he was branded and partially skinned—as in slaughtered or butchered or whatever the hell that monster … ”

Paul reached for Ben’s shoulder.  “That’s enough.  Where’s the woman now?”

“Hopefully, behind bars.”

“Wait for me outside, Ben.  You know where I keep my bottle.”

Ben carried himself to the waiting room and nearly fell into the leather desk chair.  He’d skip Paul’s good whiskey for now.  It didn’t seem fair that he should numb himself to the horror of seeing his son’s mutilated body while Joe had much more to endure.

Adam had taken charge of the situation, and Ben had come to realize that for the last several months his son had bottled up the anger he felt over Kane, but it kept him strong and focused until the ordeal with Joe was over.

Adam circled Joe’s left and grabbed the knife from her hand before shoving the woman at Hoss.  Belying his anger, his voice remained tempered.  “Get her outta here.”

Adam stepped closer to Joe, and that’s when we both saw the brand.  Adam steadied me, but I pushed his hand away and grabbed one of the bedrolls.  Each of us feared how Hoss would react, and I secured a blanket around Joseph’s torso before Adam sliced through the rope that secured my son in the makeshift teepee.

My boys had been efficient.  Mrs. Sears’ wrists were tied and Hoss nearly threw her up on Chubb so Adam could haul her to jail and Hoss, bless his soul, could drive the wagon that carried his brother and me home.

I’d tucked several blankets under and around Joseph and held his head on my lap.  I clasped my boy’s hand and stroked the dirt-streaked hair that the woman had nearly ripped from his head.  Hoss drove through the night.  The slender knife and branding iron were secured on the packhorse, as far away from Joe as possible.  Every time Hoss hit a rut, I cradled my boy even tighter, but he never moved.  He’d fallen unconscious, and maybe that was a blessing.

“Ben?”

Looking up from his musings, Ben stood.  “Well?”

“Everything’s cleaned and bandaged, but I want to keep him overnight.  Infection is almost guaranteed, and I’ll need to keep him under close observation.”

“How long—I mean, has he woken up?  Does he know where he is?”

“No, but sleep is the best thing for him right now.”  The doctor wasn’t naïve to Ben’s relationship with his boys, especially his youngest.  He clasped his hands in front of him and told Ben what he needed to hear.  “I never said you had to leave.”

Chapter 46

When Adam burst through his front door with Mrs. Sears’ hands tied in front of her, Roy stood from his chair and circled his desk.  “What in the world?”

“Lock her up first, and I’ll explain.”

“You just hold on there, Boy.  I’m the law in this town and I’ll be glad to listen, but I’ll hear from both parties before I lock anyone up.  You got that?”  Roy knew she was guilty as sin.  He’d read her diary and had concluded that she meant to harm Little Joe, but he was still the sheriff of Virginia City and he made the rules, not Adam Cartwright.  “Get them ropes off her and let’s act like civilized human beings.”

“Civilized?  If you want to talk about civilized, don’t bother questioning this woman.”  Adam pushed Pauline down in the chair, hands still tied in her lap.  “She’s an animal, Roy.  Treat her like a human being, and she’ll turn on you in an instant.”

Roy returned to his chair and looked directly at Pauline.  “You have anything to say, Mrs. Sears?”  Pauline turned her head and spit on the sheriff’s floor.  “Seems as though Adam has a story to tell.  I thought you might want to tell your side first.”

Adam stood behind her chair.  Refusing to talk was a smart move on her part.  Martin would hire the best lawyer in town to defend her, but no matter what magic the attorney offered, Pauline Sears would spend time behind bars.

When he took a seat on the corner of Roy’s desk, Adam glared down at Pauline.  “You’re an intelligent woman, aren’t you, Mrs. Sears?  If I remember correctly, your father was a traveling preacher who relied heavily on the Old Testament, a bloated version of hellfire and damnation.  I went to one of those revivals under his worn-out tent a few years back, and from what I recall, the Reverend Mayer didn’t leave much to the imagination.  And you, being his only child, believed every word that spewed from his vile and vengeful mouth.”

“My father is one of God’s prophets.  How dare you condemn him for preaching the gospel.”

“I beg to differ, Mrs. Sears.  Your father was no prophet.  He preached words of the devil, so fantastic were his sermons that the congregation trembled and cried from fright.  There was no love, no understanding, and no compassion, was there, Mrs. Sears?  I never met anyone filled with that much hate … until I met you.”

Pauline crossed her legs and turned away from Adam’s contemptible admonishment of her father.  “Your brother got everything he deserved.”

“You put my brother through hell, lady.”  Because Pauline sneered and turned farther in her chair, Adam grabbed her chin and turned her back to face him.  “Only a deranged heathen would treat another human being in such a manner.  Not only did you brand him, you intended to skin him alive.”

“I would have if not for you,” she fired back.  “You’re all the same.  You’re evil, just like your brother, and you’ll all burn in hell.”

“That may be, Mrs. Sears, the devil himself will haul you there first.”

Hoss burst through the front door.  He glared at Pauline.  “Why ain’t she behind bars?”

Pauline’s eyes rounded with fury, and she bolted from the chair.  “He’s another one, Sheriff.”  They’re all butchers!  They kill for pleasure and profit.”

Adam stood.  “And that’s why you kidnapped my brother?”

“Yes!  Because God spoke to me, and I offered to carry out his plan.”

“God told you to mutilate my brother.”

“Yes!  My God!  Don’t you have a brain in your head?”

Adam turned to face Roy.  “I’d call that a confession, wouldn’t you?”

Roy stood from his chair.  “Good as I’m gonna get.”  He rounded his desk.  “Come with me, Ma’am.”

Pauline backed away from the sheriff.  Wearing a filthy, bloodstained dress, her hair stringy and matted with dust and sand, she batted him away with her tied hands.  She looked like a devil on earth.  When Adam grabbed one arm, Hoss gladly grabbed the other, and they escorted the woman back to a cell.

Roy followed with a jangle of keys.  “I’ll let Mr. Sears know you’re here.”

Chapter 47

Paul did all he could to stem the promise of infection, but he knew Little Joe faced an uphill battle.  The mark on his hip had been a day or two old and without proper attention, the brand along with the skin removal on the back of his leg could become septic within a matter of days.

He questioned how much he should say straight out.  Ben was closer to his youngest in ways that weren’t explainable but were there just the same.  To lay something like this on him at this point seemed harsh and unnecessary.  Miracles happened, and in Joe Cartwright’s case, the boy had always beaten the odds.

“What now?”  Ben said.

“We wait.”

“Shouldn’t he be awake by now?  He’s been out a long time.”

“Let me explain the best I know how, Ben.  Come.  Sit.”  The two men moved to Paul’s private office, and the doctor poured two shots of whiskey.  “Joe needs sleep more than anything right now.  His body is trying to preserve what remains intact.”

“But—”

Paul raised his hand.  “He probably hasn’t had enough food or water to sustain a healthy body.  Not only was he branded and partially flayed his shoulders and back have taken a severe beating, not to mention his feet.  You saw as well as I did, the torn flesh, which leads me to believe he might’,ve been tied and dragged behind the wagon.”

Ben didn’t reply.  He worried his hands in his lap instead.

“I’m only guessing, but that’s what it looks like to me.  I’ve tended his back, his shoulders, and feet.  The dirt’s been removed and I stitched the deeper wounds.  They should heal fairly quickly.”

“What about the rest?”

Paul hesitated.  “We’ll know in time.”

Both men looked up when Adam and Hoss walked through the front door.  “Well?”  Ben said.

Adam let Hoss have the honors.  “She confessed to hurtin’ Little Joe, and Roy locked her up in his jail.”

With all said and done, Adam had reservations about the upcoming trial.  A woman like Pauline needed to be punished, which meant Joe would have to testify to his days in the desert.  He was a prideful kid, and speaking in open court about the damage she’d inflicted would cause him an excessive amount of humiliation and embarrassment.

Ben stood from his chair.  “Paul wants to keep Joe overnight so I’ll stay here with him.  I want you boys to ride home and take Buck with you.  When Joe’s ready to travel, I’ll need you to bring the wagon.”

“Why don’t I book us a suite at the hotel,” Adam said.  “You need a good night’s sleep too, Pa.”

“No, I’m staying here with your brother.  You two do as I say … please.”

“Come on, Adam,” Hoss said.  “Pa can handle Joe on his own.”

“Right.  Goodnight.”

“Nite, Pa.”

Chapter 48

After settling the horses in the barn, Adam and Hoss rummaged through the kitchen for something to eat.  With Hop Sing in San Francisco for an extended period, the boys had to fend for themselves.

“There’s not much,” Adam said, looking through the cupboards.  “Peaches and pickles.”

“We should’ve stayed in town with Pa.”

Adam turned to his oversized brother.  “You’re the one who said Pa could handle Joe without us.”

“I lied.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“I ain’t hungry.”

Hoss was in a mood, and Adam had more bad news to tell him though he’d rather Hoss had a full stomach, and he pulled a jar from the shelf.  “Peaches it is.”  He filled two bowls and handed one to his brother.  “Here.”  He gave Hoss a spoon and they sat at the kitchen table.  “There’s more to the story.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means,” Adam continued, “that you may not have seen all of Joe’s injuries.”

“I saw what she done.  She hung him up like a side of beef and carved the hide right off him.”

Adam held back.  Was this the right time to explain?  Since the day Joe was born, Hoss had used common sense—bulk, if necessary—to protect the kid and keep him safe.  Not a day went by that he didn’t fret over something Joe had done or something Joe was planning to do.  He remembered an incident that occurred when Joe was only waist-high.

Joe was just a little mite.  We couldn’t find him, and we’d looked everywhere.  Hop Sing had called us to dinner and no Little Joe.  Whereas it should’ve been Pa who was overly concerned, Hoss ran out the front door and was the first to saddle his horse.  Pa had other ideas and told him to hold off.  “One more hour,” he said, “and we’ll all go look.”

Hoss couldn’t eat that night.  He played with the food on his plate until Pa gave in, and we all rode out together.  Hoss was only eleven or twelve at the time.  Joe’s ma had just died, and the household had been … shall we say, in a state of chaos due to her untimely death.

We’d explained the best we could to Little Joe that his mama wasn’t coming home, that she was in heaven now, but who knows what goes on in five-year-old boy’s mind.  As it turned out, Joe thought he could climb to heaven, and he scaled what seemed like the tallest mountain around to a boy his size.

Hoss had been the first to spot him and jumped down off his horse at the base of Eagle’s Nest, but Pa held him back.  “Please, son, let me.”

Hoss had signed on as Joe’s protector the day the kid was born, and he wanted to climb that jutting rock formation and bring his little brother down to safety.  But Pa, not wanting two of his sons in trouble, asked Hoss to stay with me.  Since he was the most obedient of all, he did as Pa asked, but he was heartbroken when told to stay behind while Pa climbed the rock.

Hoss fretted other times, too.  A good example was the first time Joe sat a bronc, and Hoss worried like an old mother hen.  He propped his elbows on the corral railing, wrung his hands, and made every face in the book until the ride was finished and Joe climbed down off the horse.

For Hoss, watching Joe’s first ride was just as harrowing as his little brother getting himself stuck at the top of Eagle’s Nest, but that was Hoss, the most caring individual a man could ever know.

Hoss looked up from his empty bowl.  Adam had been too quiet for his taste, and didn’t he say there was more?  “What did you mean there was more to the story?”

Adam clenched his fists. “You’re right.  There’s more.”

“Well?  Spell it out, big brother.”

“Remember during roundup, you couldn’t find the new branding iron and accused Joe of being careless and losing it?”

“Yeah, what’s that got to do with any of this?”

“Apparently, it was stolen.”

“Stolen?  You mean rustlers?”

“No.”  Adam hesitated.  “Pauline Sears.”

Adam couldn’t bring himself to explain any further, and he waited for Hoss to catch on.  When Hoss slapped the table with both hands and stood from his chair, Adam grabbed his brother’s wrist and blocked his efforts to leave the room.

“You sayin’ what I think you’re are?”

“I am.”

“Joe?”

“Left hip.”

“I swear to God, Adam.  I’m gonna kill that woman.”

Chapter 49

Ben slept in an overstuffed chair next to his battered son.  He and Paul had transferred Joe to a more comfortable bed earlier in the day and covered him with a quilted blanket that the eighty-two-year-old Widow Simpson had given Paul for services rendered.

As Ben adjusted himself in the chair, he heard a moaning, almost groaning sound and sprung to his feet.  “Joseph,” he whispered.  Although he hoped for recognition, Joe stared straight ahead as if looking for something that wasn’t there.  “Joe.  Little Joe.”  Reaching under the blanket, Ben took his son’s hand and pressed it to his chest.  Ben’s heart beat strong, but the placement did nothing to bring Joe fully awake.

Paul tapped on the door before he walked in.  Dawn was breaking.  He knew Ben would be anxious for good news, so he dressed, put on a pot of coffee, and headed down the hall to check on father and son.  Though he wasn’t surprised to see Ben sitting on the edge of Joe’s bed, he wondered if his friend had slept at all.

“Morning,” he said.  Not having heard the doctor walk in, Ben turned with a start.  He laid Joe’s hand on top of the blanket and stood.  “You sleep there all night?”

“No.  Joe began stirring a few minutes ago.  I thought he’d woken.  His eyes were open but he didn’t see me.  He seemed to stare at nothing.”

Paul moved closer and nudged his friend’s shoulder.  “Don’t overthink things.  The boy’s been through a terrifying experience.  Give him time.”

“I’m trying, Paul.”

“At least he opened his eyes.  That’s a good sign.”

It was only natural that Ben looked tired and disheveled, but Paul didn’t need two patients and suggested his friend go freshen up while he checked Joe over.  “He’s not going anywhere, Ben.  He’ll be fine while you’re gone.”

“I could use a bath and a shave.”

“You sure could.”

“That bad?”

“A ride through the desert doesn’t leave a man smelling like a rose, you know.”

Ben chuckled.  “Okay, I can take a hint.  Take good care of my boy.  I won’t be long.”

Thankful that Virginia City’s doors never closed, Ben bought a new set of clothes, had a shave and a bath at the barber’s, and sat down for a good hot meal at Daisy’s Café.  After carrying out his breakfast, Daisy felt so guilty over Joe’s situation, that Ben noticed her unease and asked her to sit down.

“My customers have been talking, Ben.  Rumors are flying and none of them are good.”

Ben cut through a piece of ham before answering.  “I should’ve figured as much.”

“Oh, Mr. Cartwright.”  Daisy pulled a handkerchief from her waistband.  “All this miserable talk is my fault.  If I hadn’t butted in … if I hadn’t asked Little Joe.”

“I’m not blaming you, Daisy.  None of us are, and Joe won’t either.”  Ben gave her a minute to collect herself before he asked the dreaded question.  “What’s the talk, Daisy?”

“It’s terrible, Mr. Cartwright.  People are saying Little Joe killed that poor girl … that pretty Sally Ann, and that he ran off with that Sears woman.”  Ben’s jaw visibly clenched, but he waited for Daisy to finish.  “That’s not all.  They’re saying Little Joe was in love with Mrs. Sears.  There’s also talk that Martin Sears is out for revenge.  That he wants to kill Little Joe.”

Although he should’ve been starving for a decent meal, Ben’s appetite was gone, but he spoke as calmly as he could.  “My son isn’t a murderer, and my son didn’t run off with another man’s wife.”

“Oh, I’m not saying—”

“I know you aren’t, Daisy.”  Ben pulled a dollar from his vest pocket and laid it on the table.  “Joseph is at Doc Martin’s.  He’s fighting for his life, and at this point, a full recovery isn’t guaranteed.”

Ben stood from his chair, and Daisy scrambled out of hers.  “Please tell Little Joe I’m sorry.”

“I will.”

“But … but what about your breakfast.”

He forced a smile.  “Maybe next time.”

Ben settled his hat on his head and marched straight to Roy Coffee’s office.  He slammed the front door behind him.  “Have you heard what those idiot people are saying about my son?  Of all the—” He slammed his hat on Roy’s desk, but the sheriff didn’t flinch.  He expected as much from Ben Cartwright.

“I’ve heard the rumors, but that’s all they are, Ben.  Just rumors.”  Roy stood and walked toward the stove.  “Coffee?”

“Please,” Ben said in a softer voice.  “Thank you.”

“You know how them people are.  They love to gossip and until they know what happened out there in the desert, it’s anyone’s guess.”

“Why do they always think the worst when they don’t know truth from fact?”

“Human nature, I guess.”

“Human nature,” Ben mumbled.  “Stupid people.”

“I agree.”  Roy handed Ben a cup and returned to his desk chair.  “Judge Thurston will be through on Monday, and I’ll set up a hearing.  Maybe that’ll change their minds about Little Joe.”

Ben worked his jaw muscles but there was no more said.  Roy knew if there were a law against gossiping, Ben would have the whole town locked up in his jail until they apologized for thinking badly of his youngest boy.

“I guess the boys told you Mrs. Sears confessed.”

“Yeah, they told me.”

“The one thing I didn’t tell them boys of yours was that Martin ain’t out for revenge like people are sayin’.  Fact is, he came to me the other day and showed me his wife’s diary.”  Interested in what Roy had to say, Ben looked up.  “We rode out to your place the next mornin’, but Hank said you was still out lookin’ for Little Joe.  Didn’t know where you was or when you’d be back.”

“Starvation Flats.  That’s where we found Joe and … that woman.”

“Yeah, well, Martin had become suspicious after reading some things she wrote in her diary.”

“Did you read?”

“Yes, I did, and it all kind of fell together.”

“What fell together?”

“She’s an odd bird all right, and I’ll be happy to explain, but I don’t want no interruptions, you hear?”

Chapter 50

The dragon was back.  Fingers probed and an icy liquid burned my fevered flesh.  Words were spoken, mumbled, but I couldn’t make out their meaning.  The canteen was forced to my lips and I drank.  Another poison?  My head fell back to the side.

I thought I’d heard voices—Pa and my brothers—and I wondered if Hoss brought my epee.  Was I man enough to slay the dragon?  My head throbbed, and my body ached.  I tried to lift myself off the ground, but I feared she would punish me even more.  I felt too weak to do my own fighting, but I could always count on Hoss.  Engage.  Lunge.  Attack!

Chapter 51

“How’s he doin’ this mornin’, Doc?”

The lights were turned low, and Joe was barely visible even in the tiny room.  A quilt had been pulled to his chin and from what both Cartwright boys could tell, their brother was sleeping peacefully.

“Morning, boys.”  Paul crossed the room to Adam and Hoss.  “After your pa stepped out for a bath, I had a chance to check on your brother.”

“And?”  Paul’s evasive answer didn’t begin to satisfy Adam.

“He’s running a fever, but that’s to be expected.  Both wounds are festering, and I’m keeping a close eye.  We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Wait for what?  Ain’t he gettin’ better?”

Paul shook his head.  “I’m afraid not, not yet at least.  These types of injuries take time, Hoss.”

Hoss looked to Adam, but his brother was good at hiding fear.  “So, when can we take him home?”

“I’ll know more after tonight.”

“I get the feelin’ you’re leavin’ somethin’ out, Doc.”

Paul smiled.  The last thing he wanted to do was worry the boys.  That’s why he hadn’t told Ben, but he felt he might as well give them the facts.  Ben, too, for that matter.

“Infection runs rampant in these types of injuries, Hoss.  There’s skin loss, and skin is a protector.  Think of them as a burn, a bad burn.  Luckily, the woman had a sharp knife, and she was able to extract a very thin layer of skin from Joe’s leg.  She didn’t disrupt any muscle or nerves that I can tell, and the area above his ankle should heal in time.  The fact that she’d only begun the flaying process when the three of you rode up means you not only ended her reign of terror but also saved your brother’s life.  If she’d had more time to work on him, we wouldn’t be discussing a prognosis at all.”

“What about his hip?”

Paul moved toward the bed where Joe slept.  “If you’re asking whether it’s still inflamed, the answer is yes, and it will be for quite some time.  Your brother has a permanent scar, and I’m sure you know there’s nothing I can do to erase the damage.”

Adam watched Hoss clench his fists.  His brother was wound tight, and he’d have to get him back to the ranch, keep him busy, and not let him fret over Joe or, especially, Pauline Sears.  Finding one brother only to lose another wasn’t an option.

“Hello, boys.”  Adam and Hoss turned toward the doorway and their father’s welcoming voice.

“You look a sight better, Pa.”

“So do you, son.”  Ben saw the look on their faces.  He didn’t want to add to his sons’ misery by mentioning the rumors that had spread throughout town and who knew where else.  “You’re up early,” he said instead.

“Why don’t you go home with Adam and get some rest, Pa.  I’ll stay here with Little Joe.”

“Thank you, son, but I’m sure you and Adam can get us caught up faster than I can.”

“Come on, Hoss.  Pa’s right.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“I’m sure.”

When Adam opened the office door, he stopped cold after seeing Martin Sears standing on the boardwalk.  Hoss moved up behind his brother and blocked the entrance.

“Martin,” Adam said.

The young man dipped his head and gathered enough courage to speak to Joe’s older brothers.  “The sheriff told me Joseph was here.”

“That’s right.

“Is he … all right?”

“He will be … hopefully.”

Martin thought the brothers might get the wrong idea if he smiled with relief or reacted in any way, and he remained as stoic as possible.  “Good.  I’m glad he’s doing well.”

“No thanks to your wife,” Hoss noted.

Martin’s head dropped again.  “Joseph’s the best friend I ever had, and I’m sorry.  Sorry for everything.  I wanted to tell him myself … if that’s okay.”

“He ain’t in a good way, Martin, and somethin’ tells me you’re the last person he’d wanna see.”

Martin stepped back.  “Okay.”

Adam watched Pauline’s husband move down the boardwalk as though the life had been kicked out of him.  A brand-new bride, a life gone wrong.  He turned to Hoss.  “You were a little rough on him, weren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Hoss sighed and scuffed the toe of his boot.  “Maybe I should’ve never said them things, but I can’t hardly look at him without picturing his wife holdin’ that blade to Little Joe’s leg.”

“Come on,” Adam gestured toward their horses.  “We’ve got work to do.”

After mounting, they started down C Street.  The ranch couldn’t run itself, and the spring drive to Sacramento was right around the corner.  As they rode past the jail, Adam thought it best to get Hoss’ mind off Martin and Pauline Sears.

“We’ll need to hire extra drovers,” he said.  Without Pa and Joe this year, we’re a week behind and shorthanded.”

“Ain’t none of us should be goin’ on that drive.  Joe’s gonna need us, Adam.”

“Listen.  The best thing for Joe right now is—”

A shot rang out and both men fled from their mounts and crouched low to the ground.  Two women screamed, and a drunk stumbled out of a nearby saloon still swinging a bottle of rotgut.

“Sheriff’s office,” Hoss yelled.

With guns drawn, both men ran up to Roy’s front door.  Adam hesitated, but Hoss rushed inside.  Adam covered his brother’s back but noticed that Roy had drawn his gun too.  Martin Sears stood just outside the cell door, a smoking gun lay on the ground, and Martin had raised his hands shoulder high.  His new bride lay dead on the jailhouse floor.

After Martin was locked in the adjoining cell, and everyone’s gun was holstered, Roy looked at Adam and Hoss.  “Will one of you go get Paul Martin?”

“We’ll both go,” Adam said.  “Come on, Hoss.”

Adam wished he’d never chastised Hoss for using such harsh and exacting language when speaking to Martin Sears.  Now, and maybe forever, his brother would feel the kind of guilt that settles deep in a man’s soul.

Paul picked up his bag, walked down to the jail, and readily pronounced the woman dead.  “I’ll send for the coroner,” he said.  He turned to Martin’s cell.  “I’m sorry, son.”

Martin stood with his back to the cell door staring out the barred window.  He didn’t turn around.  He didn’t acknowledge Paul’s comment.  His bride was dead and his life was over.  He’d be hanged by the neck until dead.

Paul and Roy stepped into the outer office, and Roy shut the door behind him before he spoke to the doc.  “A sad turn of events.”

“I sure hate to see that boy hang.”

“The judge won’t have much choice.  He shot his wife point-blank.”

“I know, but what a waste.  He’s a good boy, Roy, and under normal circumstances, he’d never hurt a fly.  Martin and Joe Cartwright have been friends since … I can remember … when they were just boys, I guess.  What one didn’t think of the other did.  Such an unlikely pair, but they stuck together like glue, and maybe that’s what Martin remembers too.  That unwavering friendship.”

“That friendship ain’t gonna help him much in a court of law.”

“No, I’m afraid it won’t.”

Chapter 52

More than one person drifted in and out of camp, and I’d feigned sleep.  I didn’t know what else to do.  The burning in my hip and leg was growing less and less, and I needed to make a stand before it was too late, before the dragon pulled her stiletto and butchered the rest of me.

I admired my brothers more than anything.  They were good men, proud men, capable men, and I wanted Pa to think the same of me, his baby son.  I wanted to see pride in his eyes.  I wanted him to know I could take care of myself and weather any storm, and that I could return to my family in one piece, whole, like Adam after Kane.  That I could slay the dragon on my own.

Voices cluttered my thinking.  Many voices, different voices.  “She’s dead all right.”

“Her husband?”

“Locked in jail.”

“Shame.”

Jail.  Husband.  Shame.  What did it all mean?  Had the old-timer stumbled upon the dragon and me?  Should I call out for help?  Would he fight alongside me?  I struggled to make myself known, but the voices had quieted, and I squirmed and thrashed against the ropes that bound me to the teepee.

“Can’t you see me, old man?  Did you come to help?”

“Joseph.”

The old man knew my name.

“Little Joe.”

With the last of my strength, I gripped the ropes, lifted my feet off the ground, and lashed out at the old man.  Struggling like a crazed animal, I kicked and squirmed, but he had the upper hand.  He held my arms to the ground until my energy was spent, and I had to give up the fight.

“Please, son.  No more.  Easy, Joseph.”

I wasn’t like Hoss or Adam.  I was a weak and worthless human being that couldn’t fight off a wiry old man that lived like a hermit in the desert.  Tears stained my cheeks.  The battle was over, and I’d be punished again.  She’d carve deeper this time.  She’d cut me to the bone and leave me for the vultures to circle and feast.

Chapter 53

Hoss and Adam attended the hearing on Monday morning.  Also present were Martin Sears, Roy Coffee, Paul Martin, the Virginia City prosecutor, and the best attorney the Cartwright’s could provide for the defendant.

The sheriff presented a written statement to Judge Thurston, and considering all the facts of the case, Roy Coffee pleaded for mercy.  “The defendant and Little Joe Cartwright have been friends for a good many years, Your Honor.  I honestly believe Martin was trying to protect Little Joe from having to relive the torment he’d suffered at the hands of Mrs. Sears by testifyin’ in a court of law.”

Hiram Wood had taken the case pro bono, and by suppressing hard evidence—Yes, the man shot his wife—Mr. Wood was able to convince the judge that Martin wasn’t in his right mind when he shot Mrs. Sears.

“Irresistible impulse, Your Honor.  Martin Sears acted under impulse,” Wood said.  “He was literally forced to carry out the execution of his wife by an impulse he was powerless to control and should be exempt from any form of punishment.”

The prosecutor bellowed and pounded his fist on the table Roy had set up in his office for the proceedings.  He disagreed with every aspect the attorney had laid out before the judge, but in the end, Judge Thurston was more lenient than anyone had expected.  He let Martin go on one condition.

“Don’t ever let me lay eyes on you again.”

Adam nodded to Hoss.  “See, everything worked out fine.”  He stepped forward and shook Hiram Wood’s hand.  “Thank you,” he said before turning to Martin.  “I’ll let you know when Joe’s ready for visitors.”

Chapter 54

Was I dreaming or not?  If I was, it was the best dream ever.  If I wasn’t, I wondered why the voice kept insisting that I open my eyes and come back to him.  My eyelids were heavy.  My whole body felt heavy and stiff as though an unforgiving weight kept me down.  Should I answer the dream or not?  If I made my presence known, I had to be ready to fight, but I was too tired and too weak for battle.

“Come on, Joseph.  Open your eyes.”

There it was again.  The voice that brought back the fairies and lush green grasses.  The voice that could slay the dragon and could announce to the world that all was good, that evil had been destroyed and we would live happily ever after.

I geared myself up for the worst.  My eyelids began to flutter and every nerve in my body tensed at the prospect, but I was ready to take a chance.  I fisted my hands for battle and opened my eyes.

“That’s good, son.  Good boy.”

“Pa?”

“I’m right here, Joseph.  You’re at Doc Martin’s, son.  You’re safe now.  No one can hurt you anymore.”

I blinked repeatedly.  The air was warm but not desert hot.  There was no blue sky or bits of gravel digging into my shoulders and back.  Lace curtains fluttered at an open window and a large wooden clock tick-tocked on a far wall.

There were no dancing fairies or grasses or waterfalls, and I let my gaze drift.  An image of my father loomed by the side of the bed.  Tears filled his eyes when he reached for my hand and lifted it from the bed.  I smelled Bay Rum.

“Is it really you?”

“It’s me, son.  You’ve been sleeping a long time.”

“Dreams.”

“This isn’t a dream, Little Joe.  You’re awake, and you’re on the mend.”

I grabbed Pa’s shirtsleeve and held tight.  I couldn’t let go, and he didn’t pull away.  He didn’t shift his weight or lay my hand back on the bed, and that’s when I knew he was real.  The room was real, and Pa would keep the dragon away.

A squeaking noise drew our attention and Doc Martin stood in the doorway.  He smiled before crossing the room and standing next to Pa.  “I see you decided to join us.”

It seemed like a curious statement.  “How long have I been out?”

“A while.”

I dropped my hand from Pa’s shirt and tried to sit up.  Pa turned to the doc as if he needed permission, and Doc nodded his head.  “Let me help you, son.”

Pa fluffed a pillow against the headboard.  I leaned back and tried to catch my breath as Pa straightened a quilt over my legs and sat down on the edge of the bed.  “That better?”

“Good.  Thanks.”  My voice sounded rough and unconvincing, but I croaked out one more word.  “Thirsty.”

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, and when I tried putting the pieces together, the visions that came were like pinpricks of needles against my skin.  I shivered and my eyes shot open.  “Pa?”

“Here’s a drink, son.”

He held a glass to my lips, but I snatched it from his hands and tipped it bottom up so I could drink my fill.  Water dripped down my chin and chest and my breathing came hard and fast.  “More.”

Pa refilled the glass, but he hesitated.  “Slower this time, okay?”

Realizing I could drink all I wanted, I did as he asked.  I sipped rather than gulped.  Pa seemed pleased and patted my leg.  “You need to rest, son.”

Without anyone seeing, I slid my hand under the blanket and across my left hip.  A thick bandage.  I moved my left foot to the back of my right leg and felt another just as thick as the first.  “Bandages?”

Pa glanced up at Doc who stood next to the bed.  Paul tugged at the hem of his waistcoat.  “You have two serious injuries, Joe.  They’re healing nicely, but you need to leave the dressings alone.”

“What kind of injuries?”  Pa and Doc hesitated, and I repeated my question.  “What injuries?”

“Think of both wounds as burns,” Paul said.  “There’s been sufficient skin loss and that’s what’s concerning.  We can’t let either area become infected so they both need to remain covered for now.”

Doc remained stoic and gave nothing away, but tears formed in Pa’s eyes, and he tried to blink them away.  He didn’t think I noticed, but I did.  “How was I injured?”

“Joe,” Pa sighed.  “You need to rest.  We don’t need to talk right now.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Doc scooted out of the room when he heard the front door open.  Pa and I both turned our attention to the bedroom door when Hoss and Adam walked in.

“Sleeping Beauty decided to wake up I see,” Adam said.

Pa stood when my brothers appeared, but Hoss nudged him aside to get closer to the bed.  “Hey, little brother.  About time you showed that purty face of yours.”

“Good to see your ugly mug too.”

Hoss’ booming laugh made everyone else in the room chuckle only Pa didn’t laugh for long, and he whispered to Adam.  “How’d the hearing go?”

“What’s that?”  I said.

Adam moved closer.  “There was a hearing this morning in front of Judge Thurston.”

“For what?”

Adam looked at Pa, and Pa moved back toward my bed.  “It’s a long, involved story, Joseph.”

I linked my fingers on top of the quilt that covered my legs.  “I’ve got time.”

Adam put on his serious face and sat in a chair next to the bed.  “Martin Sears was acquitted of a murder charge this morning.”

“Murder?”

“He, um, he shot his wife.  Pauline Sears is dead.”

“Martin killed Pauline?”

I studied my folded hands and tried to think of everything that happened.  Some things in the desert seemed real, but there were giant holes I couldn’t fill.  I could remember losing my hat and walking barefoot.  I remembered being dragged behind a wagon, but then confusion set in.  My body ached and dreams that couldn’t be explained took control of my thinking.

I knew there was more and I racked my brain.  I was at a loss, but the bandage on my left hip … I flung the quilt to the side.  The bandage was white and a strip of long white cloth wrapped around both hips to secure it in place.  Dead center was an ugly splotch of yellowish red.

“What happened to my hip?”

“Not now, son.”

“Okay, then why did Martin shoot his wife?”

Pa seemed duly upset.  He tried to pull the blanket back in place, but I stayed his hand.  “No.  I need to know now.”

Hoss moved up next to Pa.  “He don’t know?”

I leaned forward and Pa fought to stop me, but I yanked at the long white strip and ripped the bandage off my hip.  I stared at the pine tree brand.

“Joe … ”

“She did that to me, didn’t she?  That lunatic put a hot iron on me, didn’t she?”

“Joe, please.”

“Please what?”  I cried and pushed Pa’s hands away.  “Forgive her?  For God sakes, Pa, she branded me!”

“You’re alive, son.  That’s what matters most.”

“I’m alive.”  I laughed in Pa’s face.  “I’m alive,” I yelled so that everyone in the room could hear.  “Branded!  It’s not a scratch, Pa.  I have to live with this … this little treasure the rest of my life.”

“Pa’s right, Little Joe.  There’s worse things than—”

“Name one, Hoss.  Name one thing that’s worse than having a hot iron …” I couldn’t form the word.  Branded.  Branded by a crazed woman.  Branded.  The word filled my head with hate, but I’d never have a chance to seek vengeance.  Martin had taken that away from me.

Pa crossed the room and whispered as if I weren’t there.  “Why don’t you two head back to the ranch?  I’ll stay here.”

“All right,” Adam said.  “We’ll stop back later, Joe.”

“Don’t bother.  I’m fine.  I’m alive … remember?”

Pa nodded to my brothers, his way of letting them know the conversation was over, and Hoss followed Adam out of the room.  The doc stood over me with a bottle of alcohol and a clean white cloth.  “I need to re-bandage, Joe.”

After cleaning the wound, which had me grabbing the sheets until my knuckles were white and my fingers ached, Pa lifted my hips from the bed so the doc could wrap another strip around and tie it off.  “I should do the leg again too while I’m here.”

“The leg?”

“You have a bad wound on the back of your leg, son.  Let’s have Paul finish what he started.”

“What kind of wound?”

“Paul said it’s like a burn so it has to be treated.”

Another bout of alcohol and another clean bandage, and the doc said I should rest, but Pa wasn’t leaving my side.  He moved to the upholstered chair and crossed his legs.  He was in for the long haul, and so was I, but I still had questions.

“What’s wrong with my leg?”

Pa leaned forward and ran his hands over his face.  “Do you remember when Hoss and Adam and I rode up?”

I tried to think, tried to remember.  “Yes and no.”

“Mrs. Sears had strung you up by your wrists to a … to three wooden posts.”

“Wait.  Fence posts.  She built a teepee, but there wasn’t a canvas, right?”

“That’s right.  What else do you remember?”

Fairies and dragons.  No.  My mind was still playing tricks, and I had to get back on track.  “Not much,” I said.  I felt forced to lie, but I wasn’t about to talk about dragons and such with my father.  A woman had overpowered me, had taken control, and I didn’t want Pa to think worse of me than he did already.

“Mrs. Sears wasn’t right in the head, son.  She had ideas that—well, her father was a preacher, and he preached that all God’s creatures should be treated equally.  My belief is that she took her father’s words literally and … I don’t know if the right word is frustration or anger or what, but she—”

“I get the picture, Pa.  Loud and clear.”

I couldn’t erase the brand she’d left on my hip, but that had been her sole intent.  She wanted me permanently damaged.  The march through the desert, no different than a cattle drive.  Branded and butchered.  The whole scenario became clear in my mind.  I clenched my fists and fought to steady my breathing.  I pictured bright red blood seeping from her body and wished Martin had left the final outcome to me.

“My leg,” I said.  “She wanted to skin me alive, didn’t she?”

“Yes, but a very small piece of flesh is missing.  She’d just begun when your brothers and I rode up, but Paul’s keeping a close eye.”

“A close eye?”

“Infection, son.  Paul’s doing everything he can.”

Panic had me thinking the worst, and I questioned my father.  “Will I lose my leg?”

“Oh, no.  Not at all.”  Pa seemed flustered by the question.  “Your leg will be fine.”

I didn’t want to think or talk any longer.  I lay back down, turned my back to the world around me, and pulled the quilt over my shoulder.

Chapter 55

Rain fell for the next two days, and I did nothing more than I was told.  Eat, drink, and sleep.  I preferred any of those three to forcing idle conversation.  My brothers stopped by once a day and filled Pa in on ranch business.  I wasn’t going anywhere, and I didn’t bother to listen.  Eat, drink, sleep, and forget.  A perfect routine.  A blissful existence.  But forgetting wasn’t my nature.

Angry and agitated, my blissful existence crumbled a little more every day that I lay in bed with nothing to do but brood.  I wanted revenge.  I wanted Pauline to suffer, to be scarred for life but it was too late.  The dragon had died much too soon.

I was alive.  I was lucky.  My father’s words sang like a mantra, but the “forever” scars left a dangerous shadow over my sweet disposition.  When Adam and Hoss stopped by the evening before I was allowed to go home, they brought a visitor, which they left outside my door until permission was granted.

Adam approached my bed.  “Someone’s here to see you, Joe.”

I ran a nervous hand through my hair and stared at Adam in disbelief.  Who in God’s name knew about my ordeal besides Doc and the sheriff?  I wasn’t up for visitors, and I managed one simple word.  “No.”  The reaction in the room was static.  Everyone stared but no one spoke until Hoss stepped forward.

“It’s Martin, Little Joe.  He’s waited a long time to see you.”

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity.  His wife maims me for life, and he dares to come to see me?  All’s forgiven?  Not in this lifetime.  “No.”

“You don’t understand, Joe,” Adam said.  “He did it for you.”

“Martin’s no longer a friend of mine.”

“He killed his wife because she hurt you,” Adam said.  “He saved you from facing her in front of a jury and telling the court what she did.  He’s the best friend you’ll ever have.”

“Adam’s right, Little Joe.  He even wrote a statement to Roy, and that’s exactly what he said.”

“He killed his wife because of me?”

“Yep.  Said you was his best friend, and he didn’t want you to relive the torture in a court of law.”

I pushed myself up against the headboard.  “He said that?”

“And the judge let him off.  Ain’t gonna be no trial neither.  What’d they call that, Adam?”

“Irresistible impulse.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Basically,” Adam said, “under normal circumstances, Martin knows right from wrong, but he was so distraught over his wife’s actions that he temporarily lost his mind and shot her on impulse.”

“So he’s not going to prison?”

“That’s right.”

“Will you leave us to talk alone?”

“Sure, we will.”

“You too, Pa?”

“Of course, son.”

As Pa and my brothers switched places with Martin, I straightened my bedcovers and sat as tall as I could.  Martin ducked through the doorway, his hair mussed and his hands fidgeting with his hat, but I was glad to see him after all.

“You doin’ okay, Joseph?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“How are you really?”

“Well, you know.  Okay, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, Joseph.”

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not, but I should’ve known she was crazy and maybe I did, but—well, she was my wife, and I thought things would be good but they never was.”

“I know.”  I smiled at my best friend.  “Still friends?”

“You don’t hate me?”

“You don’t listen, do you, Martin?  Nothing about this was your fault.  There’s no reason we can’t still be friends, is there?”

“There’s one more thing you should know.”

Oh, God.  What else could there possibly be?  “What’s that?”

“Sally Ann Wilson.”

“What about her?”

Martin hung his head.  “I found her ruby necklace on Pauline’s dressing table.”

“What are you saying, Martin?”

He looked straight at me and I knew.  “Pauline?”  His Adam’s apple bobbed.  “Does the sheriff know?”  Martin nodded.  “How?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t wanna know.”

I didn’t know what to say.  Sally Ann was dead, and maybe I didn’t want to know the whole truth either.  Rather than asking more questions, I changed the subject.  “Doc’s sending me home tomorrow.”

“That’s good.  That’s real good.  That’s where you belong.”

“Yeah.  I think so too.”  Martin seemed so fragile and down in the dumps, I wanted to cheer him up.  I had a thought.  “Hey, you should come stay at the Ponderosa for a few days.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can.”  I had another curious thought.  “If you want to nursemaid me, I could send Pa with my brothers on the drive to Sacramento and you could stay with me at the Ponderosa.  I could sure use the company.”

“Adam told you, didn’t he?  He told you I quit my job.”

“No, I didn’t know.  What will you do now?”

“I ain’t sure, Joseph, but I can’t go back.  There’s a lot of talk, you know.  People like to talk.”

“Yeah.”

“People start rumors that don’t make a lick of sense, but when a man gets stuck in the middle … you know what I mean?”

“Hell with them.  Come work out at the ranch.  We always need hands.”

“I don’t know.”

“With me as a teacher, you’ll learn everything in no time.”

Martin looked up.  “You’re a good friend, Joseph.”

“Friend nothing.  You have a strong back and two good hands. I’ll teach you the ropes.”

“What about your Pa?”

“He’ll be happy to have you.”

“Okay.  You’re on.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Chapter 56

Adam arrived with the wagon, and I traveled from Virginia City to the Ponderosa in the back like an invalid, mattress, and blankets and all.  I hadn’t talked to Pa about the drive to Sacramento, but if Martin came out to nursemaid me, there’d be no reason for Pa not to boss the job.  All I had to do now was convince him I could survive without him.

With Pa and my brothers away for a month, I could recover in peace without the whole family hovering over me day and night.  And that’s just what they’d do.  Martin would treat me like an equal, a friend, not a sick little boy, and I needed that sense of freedom.

Pa’s birthday celebration had been delayed.  I understood why, but I felt guilty that he had to spend his special day searching for me.  Though I had to push, I convinced him that after twenty-four hours of resting in my own bed, I’d be well enough to celebrate, and I asked if Martin could join us.  There was a downside to being laid up, but there was an upside too.  My request for both was granted.

I’d already told Martin to pack his bags and ride out to the ranch, but I wouldn’t spring my suggestion on Pa until we were all seated for his birthday dinner.  That’s when I’d broach the subject of Martin staying and Pa feeling free to boss the drive.

Hop Sing cooked all day—Pa’s and my favorites—and I thanked him more than once.  I’d survived without food for days.  Dry toast and chicken broth had been my introduction to eating again, but tonight would be different.  Ponderosa steaks and all the fixin’s.  I hoped I could keep it down.

Rather than spending another day in bed, I convinced Pa I’d heal just as quick or even quicker if I could sit on the front porch and take in some fresh air.  I was expecting Martin, and I wanted to welcome him properly.  Pa said he’d bring his paperwork outside and join me.  Three days at Doc’s, another day in bed at home, and Pa still couldn’t leave my side.  Convincing him to go on the drive and leave his baby son at home would take a miracle from above.

A half-hour later, Martin rode into the yard.  I’d told Pa earlier that he needed a job and thought it was the least we could do.  Pa didn’t argue.  Tonight was the big celebration and Martin had been invited, so it seemed only natural that he should get settled in before supper.  I almost felt guilty about springing my proposition during such a special event except time was running out.  A decision had to be made.

“Hey, buddy,” I called out.

“Hi, Joseph, Mr. Cartwright.  I sure appreciate the job offer.”

“Think nothing of it, Martin,” Pa said.  “You’re a welcome addition to the Ponderosa.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Once you’ve stabled your horse and found a bed in the bunkhouse, come on back and join Joe and me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

My father was a generous man.  Martin didn’t know diddlysquat about ranching, but Pa took a chance that he could learn, probably for my benefit, and I appreciated the kindness.  I’m sure Martin did too.

“Thanks, Pa.”

“I’m not worried.  Martin will do his share.”

“I’m sure he will.”

By the time we sat down for supper, I was ready for either a good stiff drink or bed.  Both sounded like heaven.  Sometimes a drink or two would help keep the demons away, but Pa didn’t believe that type of indulgence was wise, but I was sneaky.  I’d already slipped down for a couple shots of his good brandy since I’d been home.  What Pa didn’t know wouldn’t hurt either of us.

My hip ached constantly, and my leg was stiff and sore.  Even the stitches in my shoulders pulled more when I sat up than when I laid flat out in bed.  When Adam popped the cork on a bottle of expensive French wine, I was the first after Pa, of course, to lift my glass.

Wine wasn’t my favorite drink, but after the first glass, I felt more relaxed, and after the second, I was holding my own at the table and was ready to present my case.  “Pa,” I said, but I was still gathering my thoughts and I hesitated.

“Yes, son.”

“Oh, well, yeah, I’ve come up with a plan, Pa.”

My brothers rolled their eyes.

“A plan?”  Pa repeated.

“Martin’s agreed to nursemaid me so you can go with Adam and Hoss and boss the drive just like always.”

“Oh, Joe, I don’t know.”

Pa considered my health, which was improving every day, but he probably considered the constant stream of nightmares I’d been having too.  “I’m fine, Pa.  Really.  I won’t do anything except sit on my butt and watch Martin do all the work.”

“Joseph,” Pa cautioned.  “This is the dinner table.  Watch your language.”

“Okay, maybe I didn’t say that right, but you know what I mean.  I won’t lift a finger all month.”

Pa glanced at Martin.  “This is something the two of you have discussed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’re okay with the idea of being Joe’s—as he put it, nursemaid?”

“I wouldn’t want the word nursemaid gettin’ around, but I’d be glad to stay here with Joseph while you’re away.”

Pa looked at my brothers.  He quirked an eyebrow and set down his glass of wine.  The decision was hard for him, but I wasn’t ill and on death’s door.  I was recovering from an injury.  Besides, Hop Sing would gladly change the dressing on my hip and leg.

“Need another man on the drive?”

“We could sure use ya, Pa.”

“I guess it’s settled then.”

“Not just yet,” I said.  I pushed my chair back, managed the stairs, and grabbed the package I’d picked up before the dragon changed my life.  I was happy that day, proud that I’d found the perfect gift for my father.  But now, things were different.  I was different too.

When Pa unwrapped the engraved holster, he carried on like it was the best gift he’d ever received, but that was my pa.  I feel sure he’d seen the holster the day I went missing, but he never let on.  “Where in the world—” he said.  “Did you have to special order or did Ira do this for you?”

“Ira helped me order.”

“This is beautiful, Joseph.  Just beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it, Pa.”

After Martin excused himself and went out to the bunkhouse, Pa and my brothers moved in front of the fire, but I said goodnight.  I had to lie down before I fell.  If Pa caught on to how used up and worthless I felt by the end of the day, he’d never go on the drive.

“I’ll be up soon, son.”

“No need.  I can tuck myself in.”

Pa chuckled then added, “I’ll be up anyway.”

I’d shed my clothes and was already lying down when Pa came to my room and issued a set of rules he insisted I follow.  By the time he was through, I’d promised to eat right, sleep eight hours every night, not ride Cochise or leave the ranch, and not lift a finger or lift anything heavier than five pounds.

“Is that all?”

“One more thing.  Have Martin sleep in the guest room instead of the bunkhouse, just in case.”

“Fine, Pa.  Just in case.”

“Are you sure about this, son?  Just say the word and I’ll stay.  Adam can boss the drive.”

“I’ll be fine, Pa.”

“All right.  Goodnight, Joseph.”

“Goodnight, Pa.”

Chapter 57

Martin and I joined the family for an early breakfast.  Pa repeated the instructions he’d given me the night before, and he and my brothers were ready to head out before dawn.  I followed Pa to the front door.

“I’ll wire when I can, son.  If there’s any problem, Martin knows to get in touch with Roy or Paul.”

“We’ll be fine.  No need for worry.”

Pa eyed his new holster before fastening his gunbelt.  “A fine holster, son.”  He held his jacket and hat in one hand and gripped my arm with the other.  “Behave yourself, Joseph.”

“I will, Pa.”

“No funny business.”

“No, sir.”

“We’ll see you in about a month.”

“Okay.”

From across the yard, Hoss yelled.  “You ready, Pa?”

Pa acknowledged by waving his hat.  “Be right there.”

“Take care, Joseph.”

“You too, Pa.”

When my father closed the door behind him, Martin couldn’t stop giggling.  “Is he always like that?”

“Yep.  That was relatively mild, my friend.  I’ve been through much worse.”

Pa’s concern over his sons’ welfare was common knowledge to most, but Martin had lived a different life.  He’d never known the love and respect that resonates with a family like ours.  Eli Sears was a sleazy drunk who married and fathered two boys he couldn’t support because of the drink.  Everyone in town knew about their home situation and the whole dirty business embarrassed Martin.

I remember one Christmas after church service we all drew names of families in need.  Pa and I stood on the Sears’ doorstep.  Oren and Martin were young—Martin, a year older than me—and we’d come to deliver a basket of food and toys, but it didn’t go well.  Mr. Sears was irate and nearly swung a fist at Pa before it was over.

“We don’t take no charity from no Cartwright.”

“Just a little something for the boys, Eli.  It’s Christmastime.”

Oren and Martin stood behind their mother’s skirt.  I stood behind Pa’s pant leg, and we heard every word that was said.  It was an ugly scene, and I remember thinking the big man could hurt my pa if we didn’t leave the Christmas package and run.  But Mr. Sears grabbed the overstuffed basket, slammed the front door in our face, and that was the end of it.

Pa and I rode home together.  Not a word was ever said, but I’ve never forgotten that day.  I wondered if Martin had any recollection or if he could even understand the kindhearted goodness of a man so willing to share with those less fortunate.

My father proved his generous nature a second time when he took Martin on as a ranch hand.  Pa was a good man.  I might not miss the constant hovering, but I’d miss all the little quirks that made my father the man he was.

Chapter 58

As Pa and my brothers rode out, I wished they’d taken my nightmares with them but, as always, they persisted.  Every night like clockwork, the dragon crawled into bed with me, but I was far enough away from Martin and the downstairs guest room that he never heard my cries or my desperate attempt to cut the ties that bound the monster and me together.

Some nights, I crept down for a shot of brandy just to help me sleep, and it seemed to do the trick if only a temporary fix.  Medicinal purposes.  That’s what I told myself as I tiptoed down the stairs in the dead of night.

It wasn’t just the physical pain; I was ashamed that I’d let a woman get the best of me.  I’d let things go too far before trying to escape.  Hoss would never hold that against me, but Pa and Adam had to be biting their tongues to hold back questions that plagued their minds.  They’d always wonder how a lady half my size managed to haul me through the desert and torture a grown man.  A fool.  That’s what I’d been.  A damn fool, and I was paying the price.

There was work to be done and even though I wasn’t allowed to lift a finger, there was no reason I couldn’t start Martin out on simple chores and build from there.  He’d worked underground for so long that he wasn’t accustomed to outside jobs and on our first day together, I led him straight to the barn.

Trying to ignore the pain in my hip, I used an upturned bucket as a chair, stretched my legs out in front of me, and leaned back against a post while Martin mucked and straightened the tack.  The swelling in my feet was gone.  I was able to wear boots again and that’s when Hop Sing handed me the basket and informed me I could collect the eggs.  My shoulders and back could tolerate a shirt.  The worst had passed except the damn hip.  I tried to reassure myself that the pain wouldn’t last forever.

Had I been able to do more around the ranch, I wouldn’t have had time to think, and memories of the desert brought me to a place I didn’t want to be.  As much as I tried to distance the dragon from my thoughts, she was there, a constant reminder that I would always be disfigured, that I was forced to live with the pine tree brand for the rest of my life.

“What’s next, boss.”  I was so caught up in my musings, I’d forgotten where I was and why.  “Joseph?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”  I pushed up from the bucket and realized the chores had been completed.  “Um, that’s it for the barn, I guess.”

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Wrong?”  I tried to sound light and airy.  Martin didn’t need to know the depths of my thoughts.  “No.  I’m fine.”

“You were a hundred miles away.”

I chuckled.  “You sound like one of my brothers.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Come on.  It’s not time for lunch so how ‘bout a game of checkers.”

“Is that what you Cartwrights do all day?  Sit around and play checkers, and let the hired hands do all the work?”

“I’ll tell you how things work, Martin.  When the invalid’s butt gets tired of sitting on a wooden bucket, he needs a more comfortable chair.  Naturally, the nursemaid can’t leave his side so the invalid suggests a game of checkers.  Got it?”

“Okay.  I’m game if you’re game.”

“Come on.  We can sit on the front porch and listen to the birds sing.  Bet you don’t know one song from another, do you?”

“No.  Just the sweet sound of a canary.  That’s the only tune I know.”

I set up the checkerboard, and after we played our first game, Martin asked if we had anything to drink.

“Drink?”

“Loser takes a shot.”

“Little early in the day, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.  If you were in Virginia City pickin’ up supplies, you’d stop for a drink, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, a beer maybe.”

“But if you can’t leave the ranch for a month … ”

“Mmm.  A month is a long time, isn’t it?”

Martin wasn’t allowed to drink anywhere near the mine, and it surprised me that he was interested in a midday jolt.  He was right, though.  A beer.  A shot.  There wasn’t much difference.  I grabbed a bottle and two glasses and carried them out to the front porch.  “Whiskey okay?”

“Sure, why not?”

After pouring two fingers into each glass, I handed one to Martin.  “To friendship.”

“To best friends.”

“Best friends.”

While I was inside, Martin set up the checkerboard for another game.  “You ready?”

I cocked my head.  “I’ve played for money before but never shots.”

“Change your mind?”

“Nope.  You’re on, but I’m pretty good at this game.”

“So am I.”

“Just remember.  I’m not allowed to lift so I can’t carry you to bed.”

Martin’s eyebrows shot up.  “You?  Carry me?  Ha!  I could drink you under the table any day of the week.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

We laughed until our sides ached, but the game was on.  I moved my black piece first.  If Pa could see me now, drinking during daylight hours, he’d have a conniption or worse.  He’d bust me over the head and ask if I had any brains at all.  But it was only a game.  I didn’t think we were breaking any hard-fast rules.

By the time Hop Sing called supper, the two of us were beyond help and could barely eat the food we’d piled on our plates.  We giggled and made silly jokes until we stood and moved closer to the fireplace where we both plopped our booted feet on the table and laughed some more.

“We didn’t get much done today,” I said.

“We’ll do better tomorrow, that’s if I can roll out of bed in the morning.”

“You and me both.  I’m ready to call it a night.  You?”

“I’m beat, Joseph.  This ranch business is hard work.”

I knew he was joking, but I couldn’t find a suitable comeback so I stood and headed for the stairs.  “See you tomorrow.”

“Nite, Joseph.”

As soon as I pulled off my boots, I flopped back on my bed.  I didn’t bother with a nightshirt.  Our games—one right after the other—had turned into a drunk-fest, and I was too far-gone for such nonsense, but a funny thing happened.  For the first time in days, I didn’t care about my hip or my leg.  I didn’t care that a hate-filled woman had brutalized me in the desert and left me scarred for life.  I felt at peace.

By week’s end, I pulled the last full bottle of whiskey from Pa’s stash.  I couldn’t believe my eyes, but the cabinet was empty.  After our chores were finished, I carried the bottle to the barn, and Martin and I sat on two upturned buckets.

We’d given up on glasses.  They’d become too much of a bother when we could pass the bottle back and forth just as easily.  After Hop Sing ranted and carried on over our childish behavior, we gave up playing checkers on the front porch.  The game didn’t seem important anymore, and it was a helluva lot more peaceful in the barn.

“We need to go to town.”

“Why?”  Martin swung the half-full bottle like a pendulum.  “We got everything we need right here.”

“That’s the last bottle, my friend.  No more.  End of the line.  Kaput.”

Martin jumped up from the wooden bucket.  “Well then,” he said with a flourish.  “What’re we waiting for?”

We consumed the rest of the bottle before we took off in the buckboard.  It was mid-afternoon, but we had nothing left for later or tomorrow or the next day, and I felt the trip was necessary.  If not, I would have gone straight to bed, but for once in my life, I thought ahead.

In the back of my mind, I knew my father’s thoughts about using alcohol as a crutch, and I knew Pa would have my hide if he found out, but the peace that came over me was worth every drink I took.  I wouldn’t need the whiskey for long, but for now, it seemed like the only way to get past my constant thoughts of Starvation Flats.  I needed to forget.  I needed that more than I needed to do what was expected of me.

“Carson,” I said.  “Let’s not go to Virginia City.”

“Right.”  He chucked the reins while I sat back and enjoyed the ride.  “Always knew you were the smart one, Joseph.”  Martin took very good care of me; at least, that was my belief.  Pa would’ve thought otherwise.

Chapter 59

We each set a case in the buckboard.  In order to buy two cases, Martin convinced me to buy a cheaper rotgut.  Said the taste wouldn’t matter after the first drink.  I’d spent all the cash I had on me, and we stashed our spare whiskey in a cave about a mile from the house.  It wouldn’t do to have Hop Sing giving us his two cents so we played it smart.  I brought a few bottles into the house and slipped them back in the sideboard.  Martin and I sat down for supper.

“Where you boys go?  Father say no leave ranch.”

“Oh, sorry, Hop Sing.  Martin wanted to pick something up at his house, but he drove.  I didn’t have to move a muscle.  See?”  I held out both arms.  “No harm done.”

“You stay on ranch.  You no leave again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t get smart with me, little boy.”

“No, sir.”

“Humph.”

As soon as Hop Sing disappeared into the kitchen, Martin turned to me.  “He takes after your pa.”

“Two peas in a pod.”

I wasn’t angry at Hop Sing, but I wasn’t hungry either.  I ate a couple of bites and pushed the rest of my supper around the plate until I couldn’t stand the sight any longer.  I was jittery, rough around the edges, and not tired enough to sleep.  I stood from my chair.  “I’m going for a walk.”

“Want company?”

“Your choice.”  I grabbed a bottle from the sideboard and marched directly to the barn.  Martin followed like a puppy chasing a bone.  “We can’t keep this up.”

“You’re probably right.”

I pulled the cork and took a long pull before I handed the bottle to Martin—back and forth until the bottle was halfway gone—but I seemed to be out-drinking my friend.  Two deep breaths later, and I could feel that annoying tightness begin to ease.  I thought of the fire-breathing dragon that disrupted my life.  Hate was all I felt, that bitter feeling was back in full force, and I smashed the bottle against the barn wall.

“She did this to me,” I cried.  “That crazy bitch ruined my life.”

“Hold on now, Joseph.”

“Hold on?  What for?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled as though he didn’t want me to hear.  “Nothing at all.”

Martin’s voice sounded different, melancholy.  I shook it off as too much to drink, but our motives were different.  He was enjoying a reprieve from the mines, but there was never a time when the dragon didn’t creep into the back of my mind and linger until I poured enough whiskey down my throat that I could erase her if only for a few moments.  And then she was back, that evil, vicious woman that nightmares were made of.  The dragon had become a permanent fixture in my life.

I hadn’t realized we’d fallen asleep in the barn, passed out, rather, in a nest of prickly straw until Martin called my name.  “Wake up, Joseph.”

“Wh … what’s wrong?”

“You were screamin’.  Something about a … a dragon, I think.”

My head throbbed and my face was streaming with sweat, but I shivered from the cold.  Embarrassed that Martin had heard my cries, I turned my back, tucked my arms under the horse blanket, and brought my knees to my chest.  “Just some stupid dream.  Sorry I woke you, buddy.”  I couldn’t chance a second nightmare, and I lay awake the rest of the night.

Chapter 60

Jimmy Daniels, one of Virginia City’s street kids who earned money making deliveries, brought a telegram from Pa out to the ranch.  I thanked him, gave him a dime, and he was on his way back to town.

Day or two behind schedule (stop)

Hope all is well (stop)

Should be home on 21st  (stop)

Pa (end)

Guilt often hits at odd times and reading Pa’s wire brought on a boatload of guilt and shame.  I had ten days to clean up my act and be the man Pa thought I was, not the man I was fast becoming.  The unsightly pile of empty bottles behind the barn was proof that my life was spiraling in the wrong direction.

Though I had sense enough to know right from wrong, the dragon still shadowed me like a skin I couldn’t shed.  A drink first thing in the morning soothed the rough edges, and after finding Pa’s silver flask, I kept it filled and stuffed inside my jacket pocket.  There was a comfort just knowing it was close at hand.  A sip or two suppressed that jittery feeling that grew more intense every day.

The following morning, after Martin cleaned the stalls, and I’d fed the chicken and gathered the eggs, I gave each mount a bag of oats and then led them out to the corral.  I noticed two splintered rails that needed replacing.  “You up for a new job?”

“You’re the boss, Joseph.”

“Cut that out.”

“You’re a Cartwright, aren’t you?  And this is the mighty Ponderosa.”  Martin shrugged.  “That makes you the boss.”

“Fine.  Whatever you say.”

Maybe we needed a change.  We’d fallen into a rut and needed something to lift our spirits.  Too many days in a row of mundane chores and drinking straight from the bottle had made us both stale and short-tempered.

The splintered boards would still be there tomorrow.  Since I wasn’t worth my salt around the ranch, Pa didn’t expect much, but I felt guilty all the same.  Sitting around all day had become tedious, and even though Pa had left bookwork, I was in no mood to tackle his small print and transfer numbers on the stack of papers he’d left on his desk.

I didn’t want to stay home.  I wanted to ride, to feel the wind in my hair, and pretend all was good in the world.  I needed to do normal things, and I decided to check with Doc.  Surely, after this long, he’d give me the “okay” to get back to work.  Plus, it would make Pa happy to know I’d followed the rules.  I hitched the buckboard and like a good little boy, I let Martin drive me to town.

And, like a good patient, I let “nurse” Hop Sing change the bandages every day like clockwork.  He said both wounds looked better, but I didn’t want to chance infection.

The doctor had made that clear.  “Keep both wounds clean and bandaged.”

Doc had me wait.  He was with a patient and told me he wouldn’t be long.  I could live with that.  I reached for the flask and then thought better of it.  Martin left me alone.  He had errands to run, and I told him to go ahead.  I’d meet him outside when I was finished with the doctor.

I patted my jacket pocket to make sure the flask was still there.  Only a few minutes more.  Doc said he wouldn’t be long.  My left leg bounced up and down like a prairie jackrabbit, and I pressed my hand against my thigh.  Easy Joe.  Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I wiped it with the back of my hand.

This was ridiculous.  Pull it together or the doc will suspect.  He’ll run straight to Pa and—damn it.  I stood from the chair and paced the waiting room like a caged animal in a traveling circus.  Sweat covered my face.  I couldn’t wait any longer, and I bolted out the front door.

My bootheels sounded overloud on the boardwalk.  Every step I took—clack, clack, clack—and I wondered if anyone else would notice.  Could they see the panic in my eyes or the way I bumped into that last post?  For God’s sake, I hadn’t had enough to drink to cause me to stumble on the stupid boardwalk, and where the hell was Martin?

As a strange feeling of anxiety took over, I looked for our buckboard.  It had to be parked close by.  Run a few errands.  What was that all about?  Everything he needed was on the Ponderosa.  I glanced across the street to the mercantile.  My frustration mounted.  Was he there?  Damn, the buckboard wasn’t there either.  What the hell?

I turned and walked back the way I’d come, marching like a soldier with my eyes beaming up the street and across, and why was I constantly swallowing.  Where was the damn buckboard?  My head ached, and I thought a nice cold beer might do the trick.  The Bucket of Blood was across the street and welcomed me like an old friend.  Just one beer.  Just like old times.  I crossed the street, passed through the batwings, and called out to the bartender.

“How ‘bout a cold one, Bruno?”

“You’re in town early, Little Joe?  Come for supplies?”

“No, but I’ll take that beer anyway.”

“Beer wagon ain’t showed up yet.  Settle for a whiskey?”

“Sure, why not.  I’m meeting a friend.  Just give me a bottle.”

Bruno quirked his head to the side but did as I asked and slid an uncorked bottle my way.  I nodded my thanks and found an empty table near the back of the saloon where I wouldn’t be bothered.  I had no doubt Martin would find me eventually.

The saloon wasn’t crowded, and I could drink in peace.  I didn’t have to deal with rowdy drunks, the stench of sweaty bodies and smoke-filled air, or an off-key piano player pounding out a lively tune I was in no mood to hear.  The atmosphere suited me fine, and though I felt a little off-kilter, I poured myself a shot.

Bruno went about his business, but he often glanced my way.  Drinking was my business and no one else’s, and if he continued to stare, I could always settle in elsewhere.  Not only was my credit good, I had a few silver coins in my pocket.  I was good to go.

I tried to remember the date, but the last few days had become a blur of the same old thing, cleaning the barn and … not much else that Pa would call productive.  But those were the rules he set before they left on the drive.  “No heavy lifting.  No riding.  No this no that.”  I obeyed the rules, Pa.  Martin saw to that and you should be happy.

The longer I sat, the worse my left hip ached.  I poured another drink.  Damn.  Ease the pain.  Wasn’t that the reason I sat in a stuffy saloon before noon?  Doc would wonder where I went and I’d need a good excuse, but I’d worry about that later.

Lifting both feet onto an empty chair, I leaned heavily on my right side.  Maybe if I had more padding like Hoss, the brand wouldn’t always be a sore spot, literally.  I chuckled softly.  I’d made a joke.

As time passed more patrons entered the saloon, men I didn’t know and didn’t care to meet.  They left me alone and went about their business.  Bruno had rolled a new keg of beer in earlier, and that was the drink of choice for most men this early in the day, but I knew better than to switch from booze to beer.  I’d be puking my guts out in the alley if I tried a stupid stunt like that.

Though I didn’t bother to look up when Martin walked in, he thumped my chair to make his presence known.  “Hey,” I said.

He took the seat next to me.  “Thought you’d be waiting outside.  Doc Martin said—”

I help up my hand.  “Just forget it.”

“Okay.”

“Wanna drink?”

“Kinda early ain’t it?”

“Never too early, my friend.”

Martin stood from his seat.  “Come on.  Time to go, Joseph.”

“But the bottle’s nearly full?’

“Come on.  Let’s go.”

Guessing Martin didn’t want to join me, I returned the bottle to Bruno and walked out the door.  Confused by the loaded buckboard, I reached for the seat, but an unnerving stomach cramp nearly bent me in half.

“Too much to drink?”

“You saw the bottle.  I’d just gotten started.”

“No worries.  There’s more where that came from.  A quick shot when we get home should make you feel better.”

Clutching my midsection, I climbed up on the buckboard next to Martin and tried to pretend nothing was wrong.  I’d only had a couple of shots; I sure as heck wasn’t drunk and having my gut seize up like that made no sense.  When the sweating subsided and I felt human again, I turned to Martin.

“What’s in the back?”

“Just a few things I picked up from the house.”

“That makes sense.

“Figured I didn’t need to pay rent if I didn’t live there no more.”

When a sharper pain struck, I gripped the buckboard’s railing and anchored my feet to the floor.  My eyelids felt heavy, but every time the buckboard hit a bump or a rut, I swayed and my eyes jerked back open.  Men do foolish things, but as God as my witness, I hadn’t had too much to drink.

Martin pulled the buckboard close to the front door and helped me up the stairs.  “Time to sleep it off, Joseph.”

I wanted to shout.  “I’m not drunk.”  Instead, I let him lead me to bed.

He’d grabbed a bottle before we headed up and poured me a drink.  “Here you go, buddy.”

Without a second thought, I took the glass from his hand and belted it back.  Anything to ease the pain.   “You’re a good friend, Martin.”

“Sweet dreams, Joseph.”

“If only.”

Me and the dragon and the pine tree brand.  We all slept together in the same bed.

Chapter 61

When I rolled to my side, my bedroom shade was drawn and confusion set in.  Was it day or night?  After letting my feet fall to the floor, I tried to stand, but why was I still so tired?  My eyelids felt like lead weights, and my stomach wasn’t in great shape either.  When I reached for my pitcher, it was dry.  That wasn’t like Hop Sing.

I didn’t bother with boots.  After walking across the bedroom and down the hall to the stairs, I realized how quiet the house was.  “Hello?”  No one answered so I crept downstairs and crossed to the dining room where soft evening light revealed itself through the window behind Pa’s chair.

When I tapped on Martin’s bedroom door, no one answered, and I called out his name.  “Martin?”  I moved to the kitchen and looked for Hop Sing.  No Hop Sing either.  Strange as it might seem, the house felt odd, lifeless, and a bit unnerving.

No fire blazed in the fireplace; no pot simmered on the stove.  Was I dreaming?  I moved to the front door and pulled it open.  The last rays of sun shimmered against the tallest pines, a halo of gold.  Very nice, but the yard took on an ashen look that said the day was done.  Where was everyone?

I closed the front door and walked back to Martin’s room.  Maybe he was napping too.  I pushed the door open and glanced inside.  No one was in the bed but in the dusky light, the room looked different, cluttered, and overflowing.  I stepped inside and lit a lamp.

“Joseph?”

I whirled like a whip, my eyes wide with fright.  Martin stood behind me.  “You scared me to death.”  I fought to catch my breath.  “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Did you want something?”

“Uh, well, I thought maybe you were sleeping.  I couldn’t find you or Hop Sing, and I lit your lamp thinking … ”

“Thinking what, Joseph?”

“I don’t know exactly.”  Martin’s voice sounded strange, deadpan, but I’d let myself grow spooked by … whatever when I couldn’t find anyone in the house.

“It’s your home, not mine.  You’re welcome to come and go as you please.”

“I didn’t mean to pry, honest I didn’t.”

And that’s when I turned back to the guest room, unconsciously, I think, but my eyes fell on a silver-framed tintype, a wedding photograph had been placed on top of a crocheted doily.  Martin sat in an upholstered chair and Pauline stood with her hand on his shoulder, a stoic appearance that seemed more hostile than endearing.

The bedcover caught my eye too, ruffled and flowered, and tiny knickknacks were displayed around the room like a shrine.  A lace curtain had taken the place of the one that hung before.

“I brought some things from the house.  A few mementos.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

But the wedding photograph stayed with me, and I didn’t appreciate anything concerning that woman displayed in our home.  Did I have the right to tell him to take it down, better yet, throw it out?  Martin was my friend.  She was his wife, but he’d killed her because of our friendship, hadn’t he?  Bang!  Dead.  So why was the tintype displayed next to his bed?

I needed a damn drink.  Standing in the same room with the dragon made my head erupt with hatred and vengeance.  The woman was dead, buried six feet under, but her spirit haunted me as though she stood right there with us.  I stepped to the sideboard and grabbed the first bottle I saw.  “I’ll be outside if you want me.”

After tossing the cork in the yard, I plopped down on the rocker and took a man-size gulp.  I shivered when the fiery drink burned my throat and filled my empty stomach.  I hadn’t eaten all day.  I drank and I slept, and I had damn good reason to repeat the process.  Why the hell not?  The dragon wouldn’t leave me alone, and when she stared back at me in that bedroom, I lost all sense of control.

Everything that was right and good didn’t matter.  Pa didn’t matter.  Adam and Hoss didn’t matter.  Martin could go to hell and I’d fend for myself.  Why I’d ever asked him to stay on the Ponderosa was a mystery.  If I’d had any sense at all, I would’ve known better than to invite a stranger into our home, and that’s just what he’d become.

He knew damn well how I’d react yet he brought her here anyway.  I hated everything and everyone, and my hip hurt like hell.  I tried rocking.  With the bottle pressed against my thigh, I had a gay old time rocking back and forth and staring at the inky-black sky.  Not a star in sight, even the moon hid behind heavy clouds.  A storm threatened.

I rocked faster and faster until my feet reached the sky and touched the rain-filled clouds. The rungs rattled on the wooden surface, back and forth, back and forth, higher and higher. I was flying, flying, flying.

Chapter 62

“Why you sleep in rain?”

“Hop Sing?”

“You grown man.  Why you act like little boy?”

“What?”  The light from my window nearly blinded me, and I flung my arm across my eyes.  “What time is it?”

“It morning.  Wet clothes in heap on floor.”

“What?”

“Mr. Martin carry you inside house and put to bed.  You tell Hop Sing why you sleep in rain?”

For the life of me, I didn’t know why he was yelling or what he was yelling about, but he was sure fired up.  “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Drink too much whiskey.  Make stupid decisions.  Bandage all wet and muddy.”

“I know, Hop Sing.  I know.  Just give me a minute to wake up.”

Hop Sing scurried around the room like a crazy man as he gathered alcohol and clean bandages before stepping back up to the bed.  “Must clean wound.”

“Not now, Hop Sing.”

“Right now.  You want I call doctor instead?”

“No, go ahead.”

Hop Sing had been a dutiful nurse since Pa left.  Inspecting the wounds, he changed the bandages daily.  Today was no exception, and I lay as still as I could until he was finished.

“You get dressed.  Breakfast already on table.”

“Okay.  I’m up.”

He closed the bedroom door behind him—slammed was a better word—and I let my arm fall from my eyes.  It was morning all right.  That part was true and so was the pile of wet clothes, but what was all that rain business about?

When I raked my fingers through my hair and tried to stand, the room whirled around me, and I sat back down on the bed.  My head was a different story.  Pound, pound, pound like the beat of a sledge on an anvil, and then I remembered something he’d said.  “Martin put you to bed.”

I recalled nothing about him carrying me upstairs, but I woke up naked, which meant Martin had stripped off my wet clothes.  Had he lit a lamp?  Had he … did he want to see firsthand what his wife had done to me?  If so, he was well aware now, and maybe he’d realize why seeing that damn photograph had put a bottle of whiskey in my hand.

I stood a second time and dug through my drawers for a clean shirt, pants, and a pair of long johns.  I threw them all on the bed but had to sit down again.  This already had the makings of a helluva long day.

Martin had already sat down at the table in Pa’s chair when I made my entrance.  Nearly tripping when I hit the bottom step, he looked up.  “You look like hell, Joseph.”

“Thanks.”

He poured me a cup of coffee, and I cradled the small, china cup with both hands, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.  Hoping he hadn’t noticed, I set the cup down and reached for the platter of eggs.  Misery likes company, but I seemed to be the only one under the weather.  “Sleep good?”  I asked.

“Like a baby.”  He devoured a crisp strip of bacon.  “Barn chores are done.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“Boy, I must’ve been tired.  I never sleep that late.”

“Drunk is more like it, Joseph.”

“Yeah, well, that too.”  I scooped a pile of eggs onto my plate.  “Hop Sing said something about you carrying me in last night.”

“Somebody had to.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I guess not.”

Martin bit into a biscuit and set the other half back on his plate.  “It’s called passing out, Joseph.  In the yard.  In the rain.  Dead to the world.  I dragged you out of the rain is all.”

“Guess I should say thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Mentioning the pine tree brand seemed pointless, and I let it go.  I’m sure he peeked under the bandage.  If the roles had been reversed, I would’ve checked it out.  Curiosity usually wins out, but the drinking had to stop.  If I drank till I couldn’t remember, then enough was enough.

I’d had my fun, and it was over now.  Martin and Hop Sing had both railed at me for last night’s behavior; it felt like Pa had given me a good dressing down.  I was a bum.  I’d acted like a bum, and I was well aware.  No more.  I was done with all the foolishness.

The piles of statements and payments still waited for me on Pa’s desk.  He knew how much I hated bookwork, but since I wasn’t good for much else, it was time I got the figures posted or died trying.

“I’ve got bookwork to do,” I said.  “You have anything planned?”

“No.  You give the orders not me.”

I looked at Martin curiously.  “What’s with you?  You seem out of sorts.”

Martin raised his hands and shrugged.  “I’m just the hired hand, Joseph.”

Chapter 63

Pa’s ledgers took me the better part of three hours, and by the time I slipped the finished paperwork into the desk drawer; I wanted a drink but not today.  I’d promised myself no more.  I wasn’t a bum like Eli Sears, and I didn’t plan on becoming one anytime soon.

I stood and stretched.  My muscles ached but I was glad the bookwork was finished.  The day was still young, and I had nothing left to do.  I hadn’t seen Martin since around ten in the morning, and Hop Sing hadn’t bothered making lunch.  I couldn’t blame him.  After the stunt I pulled last night, I’d be surprised if he bothered to cook at all.

When he brought me a cup of hot coffee earlier, I asked him where he’d been yesterday.  It wasn’t like him to leave the ranch without telling someone.

“I go Virginia City.”

“What for?  I would’ve gone if you needed supplies.”

“I send wire to father in Sacramento.”

“You wired Pa?  Why?”

Hop Sing glanced around the room before he answered.  “Mr. Martin not good for Little Joe.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.”

“He not friend.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I know.  You listen Hop Sing.  He not friend.”

“Fine.  I hear you, but I think you’re wrong.”

“Hop Sing not wrong.”

“Okay.  I’m tired, Hop Sing.  I don’t want to argue.”

I usually didn’t cave in that easily, but I was too agitated to squabble.  In fact, I hid my trembling hands under Pa’s desk.  The sweat on my brow couldn’t be helped, but he didn’t comment or pass judgment.  Maybe just one shot, just enough to steady me for the rest of the day.  As soon as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, I moved toward the sideboard and grabbed a single bottle, hid it in front of me, and walked upstairs to my room.  No one else had to know that whiskey was my only solace to end the torment.

I tipped the bottle up.  Just one drink.  That’s all I needed.  I corked the bottle and buried it in my bottom drawer under a stack of trousers.  All done.  Remembered warmth had already soothed the fragile edges that had pestered me most of the afternoon.  I took a deep breath, slipped on my boots, and ventured outside for a breath of air.

Finding Martin hoeing between each furrowed row in Hop Sing’s garden surprised me.  How could our cook say he wasn’t a good friend?  He found jobs to do without being asked, even jobs that were beneath a so-called ranch hand.  I’d call that a man with a good head on his shoulders.  I moved toward the garden.

“Hi,” I said.  Apparently, I scared him, and he turned with a start.  His eyes lit up like full moons, and he held the hoe over his head like a Paiute wielding a tomahawk.  “Hey, buddy.  It’s just me.”

He lowered the weapon and playfully chopped at a loose clod of dirt.  “My apologies, Joseph.”  His erratic breathing slowed, and his eyes returned to normal size.  “You startled me is all.”

“Just wondered where you were but don’t stop on my account.”

After a beat, I turned and walked back to the house.  Who’d he think had come up behind him?  Hop Sing and I were the only two people within shouting distance.  There was no one to be afraid of so what had upset him so?

He’d scared the hell out of me; every nerve was on fire, and my sense of bravado was shaken.  I tried to move past it, to think it was nothing but fear on his part, but that look in his eye was as bad or worse than the dragon’s.  It was eerie, haunting, and oddly, my closest friend had frightened me.

Recurring visions of the desert yielded fuel for nightmares.  Calculating, and manipulative, the creature burned and tore at my flesh, but she’d become distorted and unrecognizable in my mind.  In turn, she transformed into the fire-breathing dragon of my dreams.  I saw the same look in Martin’s eyes or was I linking fantasy in with real life?  A nightmare that never ended.  Was it possible to enjoy life’s little pleasures without raking in the past every damn minute of the day?

I sat on my bed, but I didn’t remember coming up the stairs.  Worrying my hands like an old woman, I prayed my mind was playing tricks, and there was nothing else to fear.  When I took a deep breath, the pain that seized my gut when Martin pulled me from the saloon had returned, but it couldn’t be the drink.  I’d only had one little shot.

Granted, I drank too much last night, but I’d felt okay all day … until … why now?  Would a drink help?  “Oh, God.”  I grabbed my stomach and moved like a hunchback toward the dresser.  After pulling the bottom drawer open, I uncorked the bottle, tipped it to my mouth, and sucked like a starving baby.

“What’s wrong with me?”  I whimpered like a small child.  “I need you, Pa.  I need you now.”

Chapter 64

Ben Cartwright c/o Lamplighter Hotel, Sacramento, CA.  (stop)

Come home now.  (stop)

Little Joe in trouble.  (stop)

Hop Sing  (stop)

“Whatcha got, Pa?”

“Telegram from Hop Sing.”

“Hop Sing?”

“Here.”  Ben handed the wire to Hoss.

“What kind of trouble?”

Ben stared at his overgrown son.  “Your guess is as good as mine, but you better get the horses from the livery.  So much for an end-of-the-drive celebration.”

“Hey, where’s Adam?”

“He mentioned a bookstore next door.  I’ll pack up and check there first.  We’ll meet you outside the hotel.”

“Good enough.”

Chapter 65

I couldn’t believe my eyes.  The bottle was nearly empty.  I slipped downstairs for another and brought it back to my room, just in case.  No Hop Sing and no Martin.  Though I needed time to think, I didn’t need another drink.  I buried both bottles under my trousers and pulled my chair close to the window.  Why had I grouped Martin in with his malicious wife?  It was an unfair assumption but somehow, they’d merged together as one.  Pauline – Martin.  Martin – Pauline.  It was the eyes.  They each had the same hate-filled eyes.

My nerves had calmed, but my gut still tossed and turned.  I couldn’t win for losing and dug out the unfinished bottle.  I cradled it with both hands and began picking at the label.  Scraps of paper fell to the floor.  Why was Martin hoeing?  Maybe Hop Sing had asked him.  No, he’d never do that.  He doesn’t even ask me to help anymore, not since I was ten or eleven, and it was usually punishment for some misdeed.

One drink led to another … and another … until the bottle was dry.  Whiskey went down like water in the desert.  Smooth as silk even though it was rotgut.  Beer was beer, but whiskey was altogether different, and I’d grown accustomed to the taste.  Maybe I’d give up beer.  Too bubbly.  Too filling.  Whiskey wasn’t filling.  I could drink all day and never feel the full effects of the alcohol.  I knew that, and I should tell Hop Sing.  Maybe he would cancel the wire he’d sent to Sacramento.

Bad idea, Hop Sing.  Pa will be madder’n a hornet when he reads that telegram.  Mad, mad, mad.  I don’t want to be here when he gets home.  I don’t want to be in Storey County.  I should run away, far away, where Pa can’t find me.  Yeah, that’s good, Joe.  Run away.

Should I take Martin with me?  He’d know the way, wouldn’t he?  In case I got lost in the desert.  He’d find a way out.  He’d slay the dragon.  No.  Wait.  He already did that.  Bang.  You’re dead Mrs. Dragon.  Dead and buried.  Too bad.  Dead forever.  Never coming back.  Should I tell Pa she’s dead?

No.  I can’t tell Pa ‘cause I won’t be here.  ‘Cause I ran away.  Far, far away where he couldn’t find me.  No more tannings in the barn.  No more lectures when I was too tired to care.  Bye, Pa and Adam and Hoss.  I’m going now.

The bottle dropped from my hand and the last drops of golden fire spilled on the floor.  The bottle was dry.  Gone.  All gone.  I should pack my bags tonight and leave tomorrow.  Far away from the Ponderosa and Hop Sing.  Bye, Hop Sing.  Gotta go now.

When I pushed up from the floor, I didn’t get far.  I crawled toward the bed but the bed was too high so I curled into a ball, a tight little ball next to the big, tall bed.  Goodnight, Hop Sing.  Goodnight, Martin.  I’ll be outta here tomorrow.

Chapter 66

Sometime during the night, I was sick, sicker than I’d ever been, and I grabbed the china bowl.  My stomach insisted on purging, but I hadn’t eaten all day.  Tears stung my eyes and sweat tickled the back of my neck.  I propped myself up on all fours as my stomach convulsed and my arms trembled.  Swaying and heaving, the bout of dry heaves was merciless.

I lay in Martin’s arms.  Sitting on the floor, he held me tight to his chest while I heaved and choked on sour-tasting bile my stomach tried to reject.  I don’t know when he came to my room, and I don’t know how long he held me, but the warmth of his body felt like shelter from the storm.

By morning light, I began to stir, and I realized every wicked thought I’d had about my friend was a lie.  He wasn’t a dragon.  He wasn’t Pauline.  He cared about me like best friends do.  Hop Sing was wrong.  He didn’t know Martin like I did.  Some called us an unlikely pair, even his wife had scolded me about making him feel second best, but that wasn’t the case at all.  Our friendship was still strong.  We’d never dealt with rivalry or jealousy, no one-upmanship that could easily destroy the bonds of a lifetime of friendship.

Not long after breakfast, which consisted of black coffee and a bite of bacon, I asked Martin if he’d go riding with me.  Nothing fancy.  No wind in my hair, just a nice walk around the Ponderosa.  I needed a change.  I hadn’t done anything normal for so long that I was scared I’d lost the ability to manage even one day in the saddle without a drink.

I’d leave the whiskey and the fear behind and enjoy a clear blue sky and the rolling hills that made this land my home.  Pa and my brothers would be home soon, and they couldn’t see me like this.  I needed to clear my head of past events and move forward like Adam after Kane.

No more dwelling on the past and life’s little pitfalls.  It happened.  It’s over.  Nothing can change the brand on my hip or the raised skin on the back of my leg.  I’d live with the scars forever, but neither my hip nor my leg had to change the direction of my life.

Today was a new day, a better day, and Pa said it best not long ago.  Be thankful you’re alive, and I was.  It took me a while to realize, but today I would change my life for the better and become a new man, a man Pa could be proud of.

“Hey.  How ‘bout a ride.”

“I don’t know, Joseph.  Remember what your Pa said about leaving the house.”

“I need to feel normal again.”  I had the word “reborn” in my mind, but it sounded too corny.  I didn’t want to sound like a fool; I wanted to ride my horse and feel like the man I’d once been.  I wasn’t a lowdown drunk.  I’d seen Martin’s father stumble and fall.  I’d seen a lot of men lose control, but Cartwright men were better than that.  I was better’n that.

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

As we headed out to the barn, I could already feel a slight breeze on my face.  This was the right thing to do.  Forget the past.  Two carefree young men riding the day away.

Hop Sing had packed us lunch.  I said we wouldn’t be long, but we might get hungry and not want to turn back.  He didn’t seem happy with my request, but he didn’t stop us either.  No ranting over the rules Pa had set, which included leaving the house and riding.

I threw the blanket over Cochise, but when I lifted the saddle, my shoulders nearly gave out, and the cramping in my gut hit hard, but I tried to dismiss it.  Maybe it was the drink after all.  I’d never had stomach pains like that before, and fool that I was, maybe I couldn’t handle whiskey as well as I thought.

If I wasn’t home, I couldn’t drink.  Simple as that.  If I had a rough day, it was my own damn fault, but I’d live through it and come out a better man in the end.  I pulled the cinch tight, but I had to lean my head against Cooch and take a deep breath before I mounted.  Martin came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder.

“You okay?”

“I will be.”  My face was cold and clammy and sadly, I shivered under his touch.  Embarrassed that anyone would know I wasn’t in control didn’t sit well.  I shrugged off his hand and mounted my horse.  “Let’s ride.”

Other than my family, Martin knew me better than anyone, but I’d always been the strong one, a take-charge kind of guy.  Martin was more of a follower, and that was okay.  He may have been tall and lanky, but fighting bullies like Jacob Sinton and Roy Overton, who pestered the two of us at school, wasn’t his way.

I fought most of the schoolyard battles while he stood back and watched.  Mostly, I was the victor, but there were times when I took on a kid—Roy, who was twice my size—and the outcome was grim, but Martin stuck by me.  He was there to console and that’s what I needed, a stick-close kind of guy.

We circled the barn and I already felt, I guess the word would be liberated.  Free.  Normal.  The queasy feeling had passed, and I was ready to ride, ready to get on with my life and enjoy the world around me.

“Where to, Joseph?”  Martin’s voice was light and airy.

“How about Eagle’s Nest?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Yesterday, or maybe it was the day before, I remember asking him why he was all out of sorts, but that bizarre behavior was gone now, and he was just as happy to get away from the house as I was.  We all had bad days.  The tone of his voice said he was keen on having fun, and so was I.

Chapter 67

We kept our pace slow and easy.  Martin had finished in the barn before breakfast, and we were ready for a day of peace and relaxation, no worries, and no more chores until we bedded the horses down for the night.

Eagle’s Nest towered ahead of us.  We meandered up close to the base of the tall jagged rock and dismounted the horses in the shade.  I patted Cooch’s flank and walked back a ways so I could see to the top.

“When I was a little kid, five, I think, I climbed up but didn’t know how to get back down.”

“Seriously?”

“That’s what Pa tells me.  I don’t actually remember but my pa don’t lie.  I was kind of messed up in the head.  My mama died and everyone told me she was in heaven.  I thought if I climbed to the top, I could talk to—well, let’s just say it didn’t work out the way I planned.”

“Wanna give it another try?”

“Heck no.”

“You chicken?”

“No, I’m not chicken, but it’s a fool thing to do.”

Martin didn’t respond.  I glanced up at the sharp irregular surface, but that’s when the little voice inside my head whispered words I didn’t want to hear.  Just one drink.  I closed my eyes and ears to the voice.  Just one.  Just one.  But I shook it off.

“Something wrong, Joseph?”

Everything around me became distorted, swaying like rough seas, and I was trapped in a lifeboat that tumbled and dipped from side to side.  Caught in a never-ending nightmare, a feeling of foreboding captured my mind, and I tore my hat off my head.  Sweat covered my brow.  I tried to shake the feeling, but I couldn’t move.  Muscles constricted and a new sense of fear took hold.

“Joseph?  You okay, buddy?”

My mood had soured.  Riding had been a stupid idea, and we should’ve stayed home.  Whether it was the dragon or the booze or thoughts of that five-year-old kid stranded on top of a mountain, I wasn’t sure which had brought me to such a state of unease.

I fought for control.  Turning my back to Eagle’s Nest and to Martin, I stared into the distance until the feeling of terror subsided.  No one could ever know how crazy my life had become, not even my best friend.  Then, I started to pace.

Martin would know soon enough, but it couldn’t be helped.  My muscles began to loosen.  The tight, clenching feeling had only been temporary but would it return?  Would there be a next time, or had I become hysterical over nothing?  Why should I let some nonexistent fear take control every time my mind felt like playing tricks?

“Can you hear me, Joseph?”

I turned to face Martin.  “What?”

“You feel all right?  You okay?”

“Hell no, I’m not okay.”  I couldn’t drink.  That was the plan.  Don’t bring a bottle and you won’t be tempted.  Make it through the day like any other normal person, but why had I become so desperate and out of sorts?

“I brought something that might help.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The only thing we brought with us was two canteens and Hop Sing’s lunch, and I sure as hell didn’t want to eat.  Martin had left me in the blazing sun and moved toward the shade and the horses.  Please, not a cheese sandwich.  If he brought me one, I’d throw it right back at him.  That’s not what I wanted or needed.

“Here,” he said.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I didn’t think you could go without.”

He held Pa’s silver container in his hand, but I turned my back.  “No.  I’m done with all that.”

Martin stepped up behind me.  “You sure?”

“Damn it, Martin.”  I grabbed the hipflask and took a drink.  “Damn you all to hell.”

We sat side by side in the shade.  Martin didn’t share my enthusiasm for a medicinal shot just to calm down, and I kept the little flask to myself.  Martin had been my savior, and I told him as much.  “You’re a good friend, buddy.”

“I do what I can.”

“Sometimes, I think you know me better’n I know myself.”

“Just tryin’ to help.”

I drank the liquid courage and felt human again.  I’d never tell anyone what went on inside my head, and I wouldn’t dare mention any of the deadlier evils that hounded me off and on.  The cramping.  The constant dizziness.  These irritations were new but needed to be kept private.  Not only did the dragon shadow me, but there were also odd indications that something inside me was very wrong.

I was kidding myself, but I wasn’t about to let it show.  “It’s a good day, Martin.  Blue skies.  Warm breeze.  Only peace of mind.”

“I can’t complain either, Joseph, but I still think you’re chicken.”

“Give it up, buddy.  I’m not climbing that stupid rock.

“I know how your mind works.  I know you want to climb to the top just to prove you can.”

“You don’t know nothin’.  I’m content where I am.”

“Sure, you are.”

“Give it up, Martin.”

“Want a sandwich?”

“God, no.”  After pushing myself off the ground, I walked out a few feet and stared up at Eagle’s Nest.  I stumbled over a clump of brush though I caught myself before I landed on my butt.  “Long way up there.  Long way.”

“It’s just an illusion.  Once you start climbing, it’s nothing.”

“You’re crazy.  You know that?”

“Crazy or not, I have faith in you, Joseph.”

Believe in the unbelievable.  Isn’t that the meaning of faith?  “You have faith in me?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Fine.  I’ll climb the damn rock.”

Chapter 68

Boots weren’t meant for scaling slippery surfaces.  The soles were slick, and I slipped more than once on loose fragments that clattered and skipped their way to the ground.  Narrow crevices and wider gaps gave me enough of a finger-hold that I could lay belly-down and shimmy my way up.

I managed to stay focused and made my way up the mountain.  I felt freer and more confident than I had in days.  Martin knew what I needed, and I had him to thank for having enough faith in me that I left my reluctance behind and was eager to accept the challenge.

Halfway up the rock’s face, the sun’s intensity began playing tricks and irrational thoughts edged their way into mind.  The dragon was back, and she’d taken the lead in a new dance.  Though I fought the urge to look down, I searched for the next cleft in the rock, but when I couldn’t find anything to grab, my fingers dug in tighter to their original hold.

My breathing became labored, and I laid my face against the hot rock.  I couldn’t get air, couldn’t get my fill.  The rope had been drawn tight around my neck.  Bits of sand and gravel brushed past me and slid to the ground, but I was stronger now.  The dragon was dead, and I tried to sort my thoughts, but the constant pull at my neck made me think she’d returned.

“No,” I whimpered.  “Not here.  Not now.”

The gasping sound couldn’t have been my own.  I wasn’t in the desert.  A rope wasn’t anywhere near me, and neither was the dragon.  Damn it, Joe.  Concentrate.  But I couldn’t think.  I couldn’t open my eyes.  I lay motionless.  The thrill of the challenge was gone.  My momentum was gone, and the rising terror inside me escalated when I heard Martin—his feet planted on solid ground—laughing at my expense.

The sight of Pa’s silver flask had broken my resolve.  No more rotgut.  A day of freedom without the drink.  I needed to know if I was man enough to do without.  Instead, I’d become stranded halfway up a rock I never wanted to climb, all because of the drink.  Eagle’s Nest was only a destination.  Ride there and back.  That’s all it ever was.  I had nothing to prove.

I turned my head and looked down.  Oh, God.  Why had I been such a fool?  Given that my knuckles were white, and my legs shook like autumn leaves, panic had rooted itself deep inside, and I mumbled like a scared little boy.  That five-year-old kid who didn’t have the sense God gave him had claimed my body and soul.  I would never reach the top, and I couldn’t back down.

Lose hold and die.  The dragon laughed in my face, which restricted any movement I dared to make.  Fear and unholy anxiety clutched at my gut.  I needed a drink, but I was halfway up a damn mountain.  I clung tighter to the rock.

Minutes passed.  Maybe hours, I didn’t know or care until lightning lit the sky like the fourth of July.  Dark, heavy clouds had moved in from the west, and a loud crash of thunder shook the ancient structure from its core.

I was stranded.  “No!”  I cried in a voice that God and his angels could hear.

“Joseph?”  The voice was faint, and I didn’t dare turn or look down.  My fear was too great.  “You okay up there?”  Hell, no, I’m not okay, and I’m a damn fool for listening to you in the first place.  “You gonna stay on that rock all day?”

How much time had passed?  How long had I let the dragon have control?  A cool breeze ruffled my hair, and I clamped my fingers tighter into the inch-deep crevice.  How many hours had I hugged the rock face, and why was Martin just now showing concern?

When I fought to steady my boot, I slid maybe an inch but that’s all it took for my fingers to lose hold.  I stretched and grabbed, seeking a finger hold, but I was sliding fast … faster.  Like a sled on ice, I slid belly-down to the bottom of Eagle’s Nest.

Chapter 69

“You’re safe, buddy.  I’ve got you.”

“Pa?”

“Just me, Joseph.”

“Martin?”

“You fell.”

“I fell?”

“I caught you.”

“You saved my life.”

I reached for the side of my face, but Martin pulled my hand away.  “You’ve got a few scratches, but I can’t find nothin’ broke.  Here, this should help.”

With trembling hands, I angled the bottle and let the bitter swill down run my throat.  “Good,” I said.

“I know.”

Leaning heavily against Martin’s shoulder, we sat in silence.  He’d slain the dragon.  Not only once but twice, and I was grateful.  I owed him my life twice over and didn’t know how I’d ever repay him for his abiding sense of loyalty.

We didn’t start back to the house until I was feeling no pain the bottle rolled off my lap to the ground.  Martin helped me mount, but I couldn’t sit the saddle without swaying.  He pushed me forward so I could rest my head on Cooch’s silky mane then held my reins and led the two of us home.  Again, I was grateful.

He talked and I tried to listen, but I might’ve missed parts of the story.  When he mentioned his wife and how much he still loved her, my mind traveled back to their wedding day, a happy time with a long and blissful future.  I didn’t lift my head, but the more he talked, the more unsettled I became.

“She should be with me.”

“Mmm.”

“I loved that woman, Joseph.  She meant the world to me, but that’s all changed now, hasn’t it?  She’s gone, and I’m left to pick up the pieces.  When I had her buried, no one cared enough to come to the funeral.  I have nothing.  No home.  No wife, and no prospects.  I’m alone.

“Ranchers, Joseph, ranchers who maim and butcher their cattle.  You riled her that night at dinner.  You poisoned her and forced her hand.  You gave her no choice, but I didn’t realize the nature of your superior attitude until it was too late.

“I’d been corrupted by some twisted fantasy of loyalty, and I shot my own wife.  I killed her because of you, but someone has to pay for her death.  Someone needs to be held accountable, and I’ve been exonerated.  What does that tell you, my friend?”

“Friend … ”

“Are you listening, Joseph?  Tell me.  What’s the true price of friendship?”

“Friendship … ”

Chapter 70

A golden hue tinted my window shade.  The bedroom door had been closed, but images of a frantic death fall flashed through my mind the instant I opened my eyes.  Lost hold. Rocks skidded down the face and I followed but wait … I was home in my own bed.

I tried to sit up but after little effort, I gave in to my battered body.  I felt like hell and I remembered Pa’s words.  “At least you’re alive,” or something to that effect, but he was wrong.  Living was hard.  Dying seemed much more sane than crawling out of bed and starting a new day.

Through a split in the shade, a gathering of little motes played in a narrow ray of sunlight and highlighted an item on my dresser.  Intrigued, I narrowed my eyes, but I couldn’t understand why it was there.  I rolled to my side, dropped my feet to the floor, and stared.

I’d always kept my secret hidden from Hop Sing, but I moved forward and reached for the full new bottle.  When my gut tightened and nearly cut me in half, I stumbled back to bed, cradled the precious gift, and read the printed label.

Limited Edition

Whiskey

Since 1860

Limited Edition Rotgut.  That’s what the label should’ve read, but whiskey was whiskey.  At least in my case, age didn’t matter.  Taste didn’t matter either.  Only relief.

Pressure mounted in my head that equaled the physical pain I suffered in the desert.  That feeling of despair that lowered me into the murky depths where nothing else mattered crept through my veins and raced through my heart like a thudding hammer.  I hugged the golden solace to my chest, my pure and constant savior.

My life had taken a turn, and I was content with the outcome.  I was my own man, and I knew better than anyone how to survive.  I didn’t need Martin watching over me, but he’d saved me more than once; in fact, I had him to thank for leaving the bottle on my dresser.  He knew how rough I’d feel when I woke, and he did what he could to brighten my day and make me feel whole.

So, I needed a drink.  I went through hell in the desert, and I deserved a few moments of sanity and peace of mind.  Surely, I wasn’t the only man who needed a little help to get over the hump.  Pa would never understand.  “A crutch,” he’d say.  My indulgence would have to remain hidden.  I was more than capable.  I’d left that little kid back on Eagle’s Nest.  Joseph Cartwright was old enough and man enough to keep secrets from friends and family.

I licked my lips in anticipation.  One drink.  That’s all, but one led to another before I buried the bottle under my trousers.  The mirror above my washstand told a story I thought had been a dream but wasn’t a dream at all.  Sliding down Eagle’s Nest had been real.

I looked like I’d been beaten and left for dead by a man twice my size.  Scrapes and bruises marked my face and hands; no wonder everything ached.  Running my hand over my chin, I hadn’t shaved in … I’m not sure how long, but the swelling in my face made the task impossible.  My shirt was shredded.  Ragged holes in the knees of my trousers gave credence to the nasty fall I’d taken down the rock.

After kicking off my boots, I changed my clothes and filled the large china bowl from the pitcher.  Dipping both hands, I scrubbed tepid water over my face and reached for a towel.  I should be dead, but I was one lucky man.  Scraped and sore but still alive and sort of well.  I owed it all to Martin.

The sun was higher than I thought it should be, and Hop Sing’s voice rang in my ears as if he were standing next to me.  “Why you always late?  You get up on time.  Hop Sing not cook all hours of day.”

In my mind, I apologized for upsetting our cook before I headed downstairs and listened to him rant for real.  Taking a deep breath, it was high time I became productive.  Martin never complained about the work.  Even after all that happened, his perfect life destroyed, he’d finish a job with a smile on his face and ask, “What’s next?”

But what had he said last night?  Something about his wife, but recalling the details was more than I could ask my feeble brain.  He missed his wife and maybe that was a natural feeling for a man whose life was just beginning.  Having a new bride and a new home, Martin had high expectations, but he’d put the past behind him.  He was a better man than I.

When I made it downstairs, the breakfast dishes had been cleared from the table, and I glanced at the grandfather clock—10:25.  I was a dead man, but I needed a strong cup of coffee.

“Hop Sing?”  I headed toward the kitchen.  “You here?”

‘What you want?”

“Coffee?”

“On stove.”

“Thanks.”

I reached for a mug, poured the hot brew, loaded the cup with sugar, and drank.  Strong.  Wow.  The pot had sat for hours, but I knew better than ask for fresh.  “Have you seen Martin this morning?”

“He clean barn and eat hot breakfast when breakfast served.  Not seen since.”

“Think I’ll go find him.”  I couldn’t drink the coffee and poured it down the sink.  “Thanks again, Hop Sing.”

“Remember what Hop Sing say.”

“I know you don’t like Martin, but you don’t have to worry.  I’m fine.  He’s fine, and Pa will be home soon.”

“Father need ride like wind.”

“What?”

“Father leave Little Joe in Hop Sing care next time, not bad man who bring trouble to Ponderosa.”

I’d heard enough.  “The man saved my life yesterday, Hop Sing.  I’d be dead now if it weren’t for Martin.”

“Foolish talk.  Only in Little Joe head.”

“I give up.”  I slammed the kitchen door on my way out.  Foolish talk.  “Think again, Hop Sing,” I muttered as I made my way to the barn.  I rounded Cochise and patted his rump as I passed.  Martin’s horse was gone, but where would he go without me?  Having nothing better to do, I saddled Cooch and rode out after him.

When I hit the main road, I hesitated.  Virginia City?  The cave?  Had he ridden out to restock?  I glanced at my empty saddlebags.  The least I could do was save him a trip.  He’d been keeping the sideboard well stocked, but I could do my share too.

With the bandage still on my hip, I hadn’t worn my gunbelt since I’d been home, but I should’ve grabbed my hat and jacket.  I rarely left home without the finishing touches and I didn’t feel fully dressed, but I wasn’t going that far, just over the ridge where we’d hidden the extra case of whiskey.  I could carry a couple of bottles back to the house.  I had to do something productive and a ride seemed like a good idea.

No sign of Martin, but that was okay.  I hadn’t been truly alone for weeks, and I rather enjoyed the feeling of freedom without being watched.  Somehow, though, just the thought of all that Limited Edition Whiskey brought a thirst that made my heart quicken, and I rode a little faster.  I ground-tied Cooch outside the cave.

First things first.  I loaded my saddlebags though I was surprised there wasn’t much whiskey left.  We’d set the extra bottles toward the back of the cave, and I couldn’t imagine anyone else would’ve found our stash.  I carried a single bottle with me and leaned against a tree with a dark, ragged line down its middle, a lightning strike I guess, but the tree still stood and was calling my name.

After popping the cork and slipping it into my shirt pocket, I took a drink and rested my head against the torn trunk.  One long pull and I’d stop for the day.  The sky looked like rain.  Dark, heavy clouds moved over the mountaintops and were heading my way.  I’d already caught hell for sleeping in the rain, which had to be a huge exaggeration.  I had more sense than to fall asleep during a storm.

I wondered if Pa and my brothers were having as much rain as we’d had on the Ponderosa this past month.  Heavily clouded skies were unusual, but nearly every day since they’d left, we’d had a significant downpour.  Hopefully, we wouldn’t need the ark, but I was beginning to wonder if the crazy weather would ever end.

One more little nip and I’d be on my way.  With my legs stretched out in front of me, I was more than willing to stay put and watch the clouds pass by, but when a strong gust of wind rippled my hair, I decided to pack up and go.

I wasn’t one to waste a good thing.  Pa always said, “Waste not want not.”  I remembered those words per-perfectly.  Waste not want not.  Okay.  I’m good with that, and I tilted the rotgut once more.  “See, Pa?  I learned my lesson well.”

With the bottle still in my hand, I pushed to all fours and tried to stand.  Though I fell to the side, the whiskey was saved.  “Nope.  Didn’t spill a drop.”   I tucked the half-empty bottle into my saddlebag and rode home.

I left Cooch at the hitch rail and made my way up the stairs without anyone knowing I’d ever left the house.  I was sneaky that way.  The storm I expected never let loose, only a sprinkle of rain dampened my shirt.  Although I never found Martin, he knew the way home.  Besides, I wasn’t his keeper.  He was mine.

My bed looked terribly inviting, and I flopped down face-first.  I’d wasted most of the day sitting up at the cave sipping whiskey.  Not a care in the world, but I was completely worn out.  As Martin said on his very first day, “Ranching is hard work.”  It sure is, buddy.  Just ask a man who knows.

Hop Sing would have nothing to complain about if I kept my dirty boots off the linens, and I did just that.  “Nite, Hop Sing.  Nite, buddy, wherever you are.”

Chapter 71

Martin sat next to my bed in a chair he’d pulled out from my desk.  I was surprised to find anyone camped out in my room in the dead of night.  At least, I thought it was night, but maybe I was wrong.  Lately, I seemed to lose track of time, and I woke with a start.  Another dream perhaps.  Not one I could recall, but something had jolted me awake.

“What time is it?”  I croaked to my nursemaid.

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

Martin slid a blue bandana up and down the blade of his Sheffield Bowie Knife, one he’d worn for years sheathed to his belt.  In the low lamplight, the silver blade gleamed as though it was brand new, and I stared under low lashes.  A knife wasn’t used for barn chores or much else on a ranch, so why was he cleaning it now?

Should I ask or play dumb and feign sleep?  I didn’t dare close my eyes, but had I gotten it all wrong?  When Martin stood, I lay frozen in place.  He moved closer to my window and looked out.  What did he see?  What was he looking for?  I curled on my side and brought my knees to my chest as a means of protection.  And then he was gone.

Wheezing but trying not to cough, I rolled to a sitting position and let my feet fall to the floor.  Still grounded to my bed, I fought to breathe evenly.  When I pressed my hand to the wooden chair, it felt warm.  He hadn’t been a dream.  Why had Martin seemed so distant and ill-disposed, and why had he cleaned his Sheffield in front of me?

Steadying my hand on the bedpost, I moved to the window and scanned the yard, but Martin wasn’t there.  No one was there.  The storm must’ve gathered strength after I returned home.  Puddles dotted the yard like a checkerboard, but rain and puddles weren’t my main concern.  Martin Sears and his awkward visit bothered me more.

I dragged my chair to the window, lifted the sash, and watched the final droplets form rings in the puddles.  I was spooked, but why shouldn’t I be?  I was nearly alone in the house with a man who saved my life one day and polished a knife the next.  He missed his wife, but I wasn’t the one who killed her.  God knows he couldn’t blame me for that.

Nothing moved in the yard.  I was wasting my time, but I couldn’t go back to bed, not with a knife-wielding maniac in the house.  And then I chuckled.  Reckless thoughts.  That’s all they were.  So, a man cleans his knife.  Big deal.

I wanted to lie down, but a little voice in my head said, don’t be a fool.  Stay awake.  Fearing the voice might be right, I stayed in the chair, but I opened the window a bit more.  The cool evening breeze would keep me awake.  And then I remembered Cooch.  I’d left him tied to the hitch rail.  I popped my head out the window, but my horse was gone.  Had Martin stabled him when he got home?  Had he unloaded my saddlebags and arranged the bottles in the sideboard?

Damn.  This had to stop.  Every time I tried to think, my brain turned to mush.  I couldn’t remember half the stuff I was supposed to.  My mind was muddled most of the time, and keeping up pretenses was becoming more worrisome as time progressed.  Dreams and fragments of life.  That’s what it boiled down to.  Every day was more of a challenge than the day before.

Did I need a gun before I walked outside?  My gunbelt sat on the sideboard, and I could grab my pistol on the way out.  Butterflies swirled in my gut as I pulled my bedroom door open and walked down the hall to the stairs.  If Martin was sleeping in the guest room, I didn’t want to wake him.  I tiptoed down and started across the main room, but an unexpected voice brought me to a complete stop.

“Looking for this, Joseph?”

Martin’s measured baritone caught me off guard.  Sitting in Adam’s chair, he held my pearl-handled revolver and polished the barrel the same way he’d polished the knife.

“I was worried about my horse but … isn’t that my gun?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m polishing the barrel.”

I glanced at the grandfather clock.  “It’s after midnight?”

“Is that a problem?”

I pinched my thigh to make sure I was awake.  “Why were you in my room with your Sheffield?”

“What?”

“You sat in my chair and polished your knife, and don’t tell me you weren’t there.”

Martin leaned forward in the chair, but he still held my gun.  “I was never in your room, Joseph.”

“You were, and I can prove it.”

Martin stood.  He towered over me like a giant in a storybook and I stepped back, but he reached out and put his hand on my shoulder.  “On my honor as your friend, I can honestly say I wasn’t in your room.”

“The chair was warm, Martin.  You were there.  I saw you with my own eyes.”

“I’m sorry, Joseph.  Must have been another one of your dreams.”

Frustrated, I slipped away from his grasp and moved toward the front door.  “I need to check my horse.”

“He’s fine.”

“You stabled him?”

“I did.”

“You unloaded my saddlebags?”

“You weren’t in any shape.”

“You knew?”

“I watched you ride up to the cave.”

“You watched me?”  My voice pitched an octave higher.  “Why?”

“That’s my job, Joseph.”

I ran my fingers through my hair.  I needed a damn drink, but not in front of Martin.  I still had half a bottle in my drawer.  I’d make do.

Martin moved across the room and slipped my Colt into its holster.  He opened the sideboard and took out a bottle.  “You’ll need this, won’t you?”

“No, Martin.  I don’t need anything from you.”

“Oh, Joseph.  Don’t be ridiculous.  We’re friends.”  He held out the bottle.  “Call it a peace offering.”

“Not tonight.”

I marched toward the stairs and though I wanted to take them two at a time, I couldn’t summon the energy.  When I reached the top landing, I heard Martin laugh.  I turned at shouted at my so-called friend.  “Go to hell you son of a bitch!”

I pulled the bottle from my bottom drawer, a lifesaver for some, but maybe I wasn’t cut out for such foolishness.  Maybe I was different than men who could handle a drink or two without drifting off into some kind of fantasy world where nothing but dreams and nightly visions tormented their lives.

If Martin hadn’t been cleaning his Sheffield, maybe the fact that he also polished my Colt wouldn’t’ve bothered me.  I was so sure he’d been in my room.  The chair he sat in was warm.  He’d never lied to me before, and there was no reason he’d start now … was there?

God help me.  I couldn’t keep my thoughts straight.  I grabbed the bedpost with one hand and heaved the bottle across the room.  Glass shattered and a half bottle of whiskey pooled on the floor.  “Good riddance, old friend!  I don’t need you anymore.  I don’t need anyone or anything!”

I crawled under the covers and buried my head in my pillow.  I couldn’t trust anyone, not even Martin.  Maybe he lied, maybe he didn’t.  How could I know, but the friendship had soured … trust was gone.  I knew that now, and I knew what I had to do.  Martin had to go.  Pa would be back in a day or two, and I could manage just fine without a damn keeper.

Chapter 72

Lying awake half the night did nothing but force me to relive everything I’d tried to forget, but there was more.  My gut seized numerous times, enough to keep me awake, and I had nothing to soothe the barrage of shooting pains.  I crawled from my bed anyway and dressed for the day.  Lying around wasn’t the answer.  Fresh air and a few light chores would get me back on track.

But when a stabbing pain coiled me like a snake, the unforgiving cramp tore at my gut until it struck my backbone with the force of a mule’s displeasure.  I retched with such intensity that I crashed to my knees.  Clammy, sweaty, my head felt like lead when the violence burst through again.  Knives pierced every organ, slicing, stabbing, relentlessly thrusting until I rolled to my side, brought my knees to my chest, and rocked like a baby.

When the agony began to subside, I pulled myself to my feet, but the room spun like a wild bronc.  I closed my eyes.  Mind over matter.  I’d heard the term before and was set to will the pain away.  When I could finally stand on my own without help from the bedpost, I splashed cool water on my face and tried to function like a normal human being.  I left the confines of my room and headed down the stairs.

Maybe it was my imagination, but I didn’t feel safe with him in the house.  At least my brain functioned enough to know something was wrong, that Martin was acting odd, and he needed to go away.

I glanced at the grandfather clock on my way down the stairs—6:50.  That was more like it, no more sleeping the day away like before.  The table was set for breakfast, but there was no sign of my best buddy.  I peeked into the kitchen at Hop Sing.  “You seen Martin this morning?”

“No, Little Joe.  He not come out of room yet.”

“Coffee ready?”

“You sit.  I bring.”

I took my seat and the table then shifted over to Pa’s chair.  It didn’t seem right when Martin sat there and besides, I didn’t want my back to his door.  Hop Sing carried the coffee pot out and set it on the table next to my cup like he usually did for Pa.  For the next day or two, I would play man of the house, not our visitor.

“Time you eat decent breakfast, Little Joe.”

“You fix it and I’ll eat it.”

“Already done.”

By the time I’d poured my coffee, Hop Sing brought out a plate of bacon, eggs, and two biscuits.  A crock set on the table, and I dipped my knife and spread strawberry jam on the right-out-of-the-oven bread.  But the closer I came to eating, the more my stomach rejected the thought.  Sweat beaded for the second time that morning, and I ran out of the house, stumbled sideways, and fell to my knees at the edge of Hop Sing’s garden.

Pressing my palms to the upturned soil, my breathing came in spurts and spats and unshed tears burned my eyes.  I heaved but my stomach was empty.  My entire body convulsed, and I begged the Almighty for relief.  My efforts were useless, and I rolled to my side.  Willing to curse the man upstairs and tell him just what I thought of the agony he made me endure, I opened my eyes and there stood Martin, hovering and shaking his head.  “Pathetic, Joseph.  Truly pathetic.”

“Get out!”  I cried.  “Get away from me.”

“I won’t leave your side, Joseph.  Didn’t I promise your father?”  He lowered himself to his haunches.  “Here, my friend.”  He handed me Pa’s flask.  “This should ease the pain.”

I snatched the silver container and drank with abandon.  Too weak to turn down the offer, I didn’t hesitate or exhale until the flask was nearly dry and relief was on the way.  The cramping would soon stop, and I could start my day.  After swiping the back of my hand across my chin, I tried to get my feet under me.  Covered in mud, I pushed up on all fours but the ground was slick and my chance at recovery failed.  My bootheels couldn’t manage the slop, and before I could register my next move, I’d fallen back into the mud.

“Memories of dear old dad.”

What?  Had I heard him right?

“My father used to wallow in the mud too, Joseph.”

I wasn’t anything like that old man.  He was a lifetime drunk, and I could stop anytime I wanted.  “You’re comparing me to your father?”

An evil smile broke through.  “Shouldn’t I?

Raw anger pushed me to my feet.  “You bastard.”

“You look like hell, Joseph.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Me?”  His eyebrows rose, and he clapped his hand to his chest.  “I’m only doing what’s best for a friend.”

“Friend, my ass.  You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  I’m only here to help.”

“Help?  Go away, Martin.  Pack your stuff and get out.”

“Nope.”  He crossed his arms in defiance.  “A promise is a promise.  If you don’t want me in the house, I’ll move to the bunkhouse, but I won’t leave the Ponderosa until your father returns from the drive.”

“Fine.  Move to the bunkhouse.”

“I’ll be there when you need me.”

“I don’t need anyone, Martin, especially the likes of you.”

“We’ll see.”

Chapter 73

Martin hadn’t cleaned the barn, and I took it upon myself to get the job done without him.  He wasn’t needed anymore.  My hip and my leg and even my feet were healed enough that there wasn’t any more worry about infection; at least, I hoped not.  I was healthy and strong, and I could muck a barn or anything else that needed to be done.

The first thing I noticed was my empty saddlebags, but I figured as much.  Martin had hidden the evidence of my trip to the cave and filled the sideboard as usual.  If I wanted a drink, I knew where to find it.  If the sideboard ran low, I could restock myself.  I didn’t need his help.

After the barn was in good shape, I walked back to the house but left my mud-caked boots on the front porch.  I’d deal with them later.  I’d change my clothes and decide what needed doing next.  I remembered the splintered fence rail.  I could manage just fine without my so-called friend.

Once inside, I glanced around the room for Hop Sing, and when I heard pots clanging in the kitchen, I knew I was safe.  I liked having one bottle handy in my room, just in case things got too bad.  I opened the sideboard.  Empty.  “That son of a—” He’d taken every bottle of whiskey and Pa’s good brandy.

After kicking the door shut with my foot, I looked for Pa’s crystal decanter that sat on the table close to his desk.  Empty.  Bone dry.  I pulled the empty flask from my jacket pocket and hurled the silver container into the flaming fireplace.  Good riddance to Martin and pointless toys.  I didn’t need a flask, and I didn’t need any more damn whiskey.

I pounced up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door.  After sliding my pants to the floor, I nearly ripped the buttons off my shirt trying to rid myself of the mud-soaked clothes.

“Damn him.”  He’d planned this all along, hadn’t he?  He figured that sooner or later I’d come knocking on his door and beg for a bottle.  “Well, my friend, it’s over, finished.  I don’t work that way, and the last thing I’d ever do is come beggin’ to you.”

I slipped into clean clothes and took a deep breath before I headed back downstairs.  An apology was needed, and I walked toward the kitchen and Hop Sing.  I know he heard me enter his domain, but he kept his back to me.  “I’m sorry about breakfast.  My stomach was upset and I—well, I wasn’t very hungry after all.”

“You no eat for days.  Hop Sing not fool.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Father be home soon.”

“I know.”

“You need set new path before father return.”

“I will.  I have.  I’m done with Martin.  I told him to clear out his stuff and move out of the house.”

“Best thing happen in long time.”

I hung my head.  “I know.”

Hop Sing turned and stood in front of me.  “Little Joe good boy, have good heart, but Mr. Martin lose heart after lose wife.  He angry inside.  No longer friend.  Have only one purpose when come to Ponderosa.  He want Little Joe hurt too.”

I pressed my fingers to my temples and tried to think.  My mind was so clouded anymore … that first drink.  The front porch.  An easy game of checkers.  I wasn’t forced, but it was a beginning.

Knowing Pa would never approve, I valued the friendship too much to contradict Martin’s reasoning.  “Just like having a beer in town,” he’d said and like a fool —“Damn”— I went along.  “You were right, Hop Sing.  I shouldn’t have let him stay as long as I did.”

“You make Hop Sing proud.  You already set new path.”

A response wasn’t necessary, and I moved the few steps from Hop Sing’s kitchen to Martin’s bedroom and opened the door.  Just as I’d asked, he’d cleared out his belongings except for one obvious memento he knew would threaten any future friendship between us.  The silver-framed tintype sat on the bedside table facing the open door.  Their wedding picture made me crazy with hatred that only a drink would cure.  He set the trap.  He knew how I’d react, and I did.

“Think I’ll go for a ride, Hop Sing.”

“Better if Hop Sing change bandage first.”

I patted the cook’s shoulder and forced a smile.  “I won’t be gone long.”

I rode a mile to the cave entrance. and ran my hand along the cold wall until I reached the place where we’d set the case of whiskey.  I lit a match and scuffed my boot along the ground where the crate should’ve been.  Every bottle was gone.  Whether he’d followed me or not yesterday didn’t matter, but sometime after I’d come and gone, he’d either moved or destroyed every last bottle of whiskey.

My empty bottle from yesterday lay on the ground next to the lightning tree.  No doubt, he’d left it there for me to see.  This was a game to him.  He knew how my body would react knowing there was nothing left—not one single bottle.  Not one innocent drink to tide me over.

I cursed myself more than I cursed Martin.  He never forced me to drink.  I managed that all by myself, and I had to accept the fact that I was weaker than most, that I wasn’t the man Pa thought I was.  Sure, I was tortured in the desert, but I survived.  Adam survived Kane, but Adam was stronger than me.  He managed just fine without help from anyone or anything.

Time was running out.  My family could never know the depths I’d taken to offset the pain and the memories.  I had to stand strong in the eyes of Pa and Hoss and Adam, and I needed to stay sober until they got home.  I had no other choice.  I could manage without a drink if I stayed away from Martin and trashed the damn tintype of his wife.

In all respects, though, Martin had helped me more than he knew.  No booze in the house.  The cave was empty, and I took a cleansing breath.  I felt stronger already.  I could do it.  I could make a fresh start.

After stabling Cochise, I walked to the house and threw my hat on top of the sideboard.  I sat in front of the grand fireplace, Pa’s pride and joy.  Enjoying the crackling, orange flames that burst from the logs, I wondered if my fairies would spring from the flames and carry on with their dance.

Almost too warm for my taste, but a roaring fire brought the comfort of home, and I pictured the four of us enjoying an evening of simple talk.  The dragon was behind me now, and so was the whiskey.  If nothing else, I told Hop Sing I’d taken a new path, and I promised to see it through.

Rubbing my palms together, I cleared the heavy lump from my throat.  It was late afternoon, still two hours until supper.  Maybe I should read.  That seemed to pacify Adam when he was troubled.  A Tale of Two Cities sat on the table next to Pa’s chair.  I’d heard him laughing at parts of the story, and laughing sounded like a good thing.  I picked up the book and opened to Chapter One.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness . . .

I’d heard those words before, probably Adam quoting the line at some point, but the line fell flat with me, all except foolishness.  That resonated loud and clear.  I’d been a fool, a damn fool, and I was paying the price.  I slammed the book shut and threw it on Pa’s chair.  Enough reading for one day.  I’d lost the mood, and I stood from the settee.

Anger rose and I began pacing the room.  I licked my dry lips and stared at nothing.  It was just the beginning.  The pain, the cramping, the anxiety of knowing what I had to do.  Fight it, Joe.  Fight and come out a winner.  I ran up the stairs and pulled open my bottom drawer.  Just maybe … but only folded trousers remained.

Take a nap.  With my hands tucked behind my head, I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling.  I closed my eyes and tried to drift off, but in no time, I was curled in a fetal position, trying to relieve the tightness, the ever-present constricting muscles that drove me insane.

Air.  I needed air and rolled off the bed.  I threw my window open so I could breathe without gasping for every damn breath.  Another storm.  With low-hanging clouds and the soft patter of rain sounding on the roof, the afternoon sky had darkened like night.  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement.  Leaning against the side of the barn, Martin stood, smiling.  He tipped his hat before strolling back into the bunkhouse and closing the door behind him.

“Asshole.”

I moved around my room like a cat looking for that glorious sunny spot on the floor, but the sun was gone.  Stupid cat.  “Damn you, Martin.”  I couldn’t bring myself to read.  I couldn’t sleep, and supper was still an hour away, but the thought of eating Hop Sing’s dinner wound my gut tighter than a twisted spring.

I moved back to the window and looked down at the bunkhouse.  Martin was the only one there.  Hank and Sandy were repairing fences in the southern pasture and working out of a line shack.  Both of our wranglers were with Pa and my brothers.  Knowing my father, he’d given the drovers a bonus and a week off, and no one would be straggling in when they had money to burn or fences to repair.

Just one drink.

I paced some more.  NO!  Think of something else.  Think of the good times you’ve had breaking broncs or courting pretty girls to Saturday night dances.  Pauline.  Why was she always the first woman to pop into my head?  I never took her to a dance, only one dinner.  One damn dinner and look at me now.

God, I hated my life.  What Pa and Hoss and Adam didn’t know about the baby of the family would send them all into a tailspin.  I was weak, defenseless.  A sad excuse who couldn’t even call himself a man.  Why didn’t I see Martin for what he was?  Vicious.  Vindictive.  Sitting on his bunk, smiling, and waiting for me to come running.

No way, my friend.  Not today.  Not ever!

The room spun.  Dizziness took over and I reached for the bedpost before sitting and letting my head fall to my hands.  And then it struck.  Like a cannonball to the gut, a wrenching, twisting pain nearly severed me in half.  A seizure so strong, I curled into myself and dropped from the bed with a thud.  My heart hammered so fast, I wondered if this was how I’d go out.

Joe Cartwright found dead on bedroom floor.

The headlines weren’t pretty.  I could lay here and suffer or go begging to Martin.  One little drink would ease the cramping, but one always led to another.  I’m trying my best, Pa.  I just don’t know if my best is good enough.

Chapter 74

A steady rain fell when I stepped outside and crossed the yard to the bunkhouse.  Playing a hand of solitaire—red ten on a black jack, that sort of thing—he heard me come in.  He saw that I was wet and when I shivered, I thought he’d look up, but he kept a stoic face and played another card.  Two games at once, card game, mind game.  He’d perfected both and felt justified in prolonging my agony.

“Pride goeth before a fall, Joseph, and oh, how the mighty have fallen.”  He didn’t look up.  Instead, he played another card.  “I thought you’d come sooner.”

The sadistic greeting finally came, and though I’d rather let my fists do the talking, I responded evenly.  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Oh, Joseph.  You’re so predictable.”

“Fine.  I’m predictable.  What do you want me to say, Martin?”

Like a boy waiting to be scolded, I clasped my hands behind my back and didn’t make eye contact.  The beads of sweat on my brow and my inability to remain steady made it plain to see I couldn’t hold out much longer.  But more than my obvious discomfort, it pleasured him that I would stoop so low, that I’d come and ask for a bottle.

“You exiled me, Joseph.  You threw me out like a worthless piece of trash, and look at you now.  Joseph Cartwright comes beggin’, but I hold all the cards, don’t I?”

He put me on the defensive.  What did he expect?  You brought a picture of the dragon into my house.  You knew how I’d react and here I am.  Happy?  “Okay,” I said instead.  “Maybe I was wrong to kick you out.”

“Wrong?  You flatter me, Joseph?”  Martin threw his cards on the table and stood from the chair.  “I used to go to bed hungry.  I even used to cry myself to sleep while my friend Joe Cartwright lived the high life out on the Ponderosa.  Remember those days?  Remember what it was like when we were kids?”

Steadying my fingertips on the table, I remembered something Pauline had said.  “Don’t you think Martin feels second best?”  I couldn’t change the past, and I couldn’t pretend that Martin’s life wasn’t as privileged as mine, but I was damn close to wringing his neck.  “I remember.”

“I lived with a falling-down drunk for years.”  Martin sat on the edge of the table less than a foot from my face.  “I know the signs, my friend.  I know them well and you’re hurtin’, aren’t you?  Your stomach quakes and quivers.  Your hands shake and your mind begs for relief.  But that’s not what bothers you most, is it?  You’re Ben Cartwright’s son, and unlike the Sears’ household, there’s a standard to uphold, isn’t there?”

“Is that what this is all about?”  My body tensed involuntarily, and I was more lightheaded than I cared to admit.  I never should’ve come to Martin.  I should’ve ridden to Virginia City and been done with it.  “What’s your game, Martin?”

“Game?  You see this as a game?”  He stood and circled behind me.  “I thought you had a different reason for comin’ to see me.  You wanna play games?  Should I deal the cards?”

I’d left my pride behind once I stepped through the bunkhouse door.  Though it had become harder to maintain control, I kept my voice even.  “No.  I don’t want to play cards.  I don’t want to play games.”

“It’s gettin’ worse now, isn’t it?  That feelin’ you can’t control is eating you up inside, and you wish I’d shut up and quit talkin’ nonsense.”  Martin chuckled before moving back in front of me.  “Hey, don’t say Martin Sears wasn’t on hand to aid a friend in need, but didn’t Ben teach you any manners?  Please, and thank you?”

“May I please have what I came for?”

“I couldn’t ask for more, Joseph.  That wasn’t so hard, was it?  But it doesn’t cut the mustard with me.”

I gritted my teeth when a lightning bolt of pain coursed through my mid-section.

“Your body aches for it, doesn’t it?  You put up a good fight but, in the end, you crossed the yard, and every step closer to the bunkhouse made you hate yourself even more.  But here you are, standing in front of the only person who can ease the pain.”  Martin reached down and lifted the blanket covering his bunk so I could see the wooden crate he’d taken from the cave.  “There you go.  A generous stash, wouldn’t you say?”

My heart raced when I laid eyes on the front row of bottles.

“Just like my father, your eyes lit up at just the sight of a brand-new bottle.  Brandy, beer, even rotgut.  It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?  Anything will do.  My father used to drink paregoric or laudanum, anything he could get his hands on.  What about you, Joseph?”

I tried to stay calm.  “You’re a sick man, Martin.”

“Me?”  He pointed to his chest.  “That’s where you’re wrong my friend, but here’s what you came for.  A sick man would dive to his hands and knees and scramble for a bottle.  Will you do that for me, Joseph?  Will you crawl your way across the room or will the prideful Joseph Cartwright resist temptation and make Papa proud of his little boy?”

I took a step forward, but Martin dropped the blanket over the bottles.

“Crawl, Joseph.  I want to see you crawl.”

A wave of dizziness caught me off guard and I nearly fell to my knees, but I wasn’t about to crawl.  With both hands, I gripped the table hard enough that it shook several cards to the floor.  My head spun so fast, I closed my eyes and hung on, but when my gut seized, I dropped to the bunkhouse floor.

“That’s a good boy.  You’re halfway there, Joseph.”

I could barely make out his words.  I felt so feverish, I didn’t know whether to drink or put a gun to my head.  “I’m sick, Martin.”

“How well I know.  Just like Eli.  He crawled too.  More than once, Pa crawled on his hands and knees.  How does it feel, Joseph?  Proud of what you’ve become?”

His tone was angry, but sadness swept over him as he remembered those desperate times.  He never talked about his father, a hidden misery we never discussed, but for some unknown reason, he wanted to play God.  Like a puppet on a string, he had me right where he wanted me.  I’d already come begging, but he wanted more.  Beg and crawl.  How low could a man sink before he hit bottom?

“I’m waiting, Joseph.”

I’d left my pride behind, and my choices were slim.  Lying on my right hip and under Martin’s watchful eye, I struggled to move toward the bed.  I lifted a bottle from the crate.  Empty.  Corked, but empty.  I lifted another … and another before I looked up.  “You find this funny, don’t you?”  His head shot back and laughter exploded.  His whole body shook with pleasure.  The pain had subsided enough that I stood from the floor and grabbed his shirtfront.   “Don’t play games with me, Martin.”

“You still think this is a game.”

“Why?”  I pleaded.

He tore my hands from his shirt.  “You’re a worthless drunk, Joseph.  Won’t Ben be proud of his boy.”

Ripples of pain tore at my gut.  My recovery had been temporary, and I ran out the door when another bout of dry heaves brought me to my knees.  Thunder crashed above me as my stomach seized and convulsed.  When I pressed my hand to my midsection, I realized that nothing but whiskey would help.  “You bastard!”  I shouted.  “Get the hell off this ranch.”

Martin stood over me.  Holding two full bottles, he swung them back and forth like a pendulum.  “Elijah Sears and Joseph Cartwright.  Ain’t much difference now, is there?”

When I reached up, he lifted the bottles higher.  “Once a drunk always a drunk.”

I pushed up on all fours and watched in disbelief as he swung both bottles over his head like a lariat.  “Games are fun, aren’t they?”

I fell sideways in the mud and pounding rain.  A different Martin stood over me.  I wanted to know why he hated me so, but the babble started again.

“What’s a bottle worth to you, Joseph?  God knows your standing in the community is shot all to hell.  It might matter to Ben, but I could give a rat’s ass.  What about your horse?  He’s a mighty fine pinto.  How ‘bout we trade your horse for a brand new bottle?  Never opened, Joseph.”

I turned my head and coughed up a bunch of—an ungodly mess—but it became harder to listen to the man I once called friend.  “You’re not getting my horse.”

“Can you dance?”

“What?”

“Maybe you could sing me a song, like big brother, Adam.”

“I don’t sing and I don’t dance.”

“Think again, Joseph.”  Martin snapped his fingers.  “I know.  Sing while you dance.”

“Just give me a goddamned bottle.”

“Tsk, tsk, Joseph.  What if Papa heard you talkin’ like that?  Would he take you over his knee?”

“Leave my father out of this.”

A bottle crashed to the ground.  “Oops,” he said, and I stared as the earth absorbed the pure gold.  “Only one left, my friend.  What will you give in trade to your old pal, Martin?”

I shook my head.  Hair fell in my eyes and rain dripped from my chin.  My hands and knees were soaked with mud, but I didn’t care if everyone in the state of Nevada saw me wallowing like a pig in my own yard.  All I needed was one damn drink.

Martin dropped the second bottle.  “Oops.  There goes the other.”

With all my strength, I launched myself from the ground and charged his midsection, but Martin was prepared to fight.  I wasn’t.  The two of us rolled through the mud and pouring rain, struggling and grabbing until he pinned my wrists to the ground and straddled himself on top.  I never stood a chance.

“You were always the best fighter when we were boys, but time changes everything, Joseph.  Lots of things change when a man finds the girl of his dreams.”

Pauline?

“A man takes a wife.  He settles into a routine.”

Oh, God.  Pauline.

“He thinks the world of her, and he listens to what she has to say.  She sets him straight.  She teaches him about life, things he should’ve realized before but hadn’t given a thought to until he was enlightened by a God-fearing woman.”

My voice was breathy but I managed a few words.  “What’s this all about, Martin?”

“You don’t know?”

“I guess not.”  I could barely breathe.  Martin forced my wrists deeper into the mud.  I couldn’t move a muscle.

“She showed me the light, Joseph.  She taught me about life and selfish injustice.”

“Pauline?”

“Of course, Pauline.”

I struggled to lift my arms but to no avail.  Martin wanted me to hear him out.

“She was right, you know.  About everything.”

“No.”  My breathing was labored.  “No, she wasn’t.  You said that yourself, Martin.”

“Do you know the seven sins, Joseph?  Do you?”

“I guess.”

“Greed, lust, vanity.  Need I say more?”

“How about envy and wrath.”

“Very good, Joseph.  I’m impressed, and I won’t argue the point, but don’t I have any reason to envy or feel anger toward a miserable human being like you?”

“Is that what your wife taught you?  To hate?”

“Only you, Joseph.  You know the reason why, but she took care of that, and I applaud her efforts.”

“Get off me, damn it.  Tell your stories to someone who cares.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, you sodden son-of-a-bitch.”

Martin was so unstable that I worried about the Sheffield strapped to his belt.  In my weakened state, I couldn’t defend myself if he pulled the knife and decided to slit my throat.

Joe Cartwright found dead in mud puddle.

I didn’t like that headline either.  My desperate craving had subsided, and at least I could think straight, but I was still trapped under Martin’s grasp, and he was still spewing out his wife’s trash.

“She taught me about evil, Joseph.  She instilled a different set of values, a true set of values I never understood before, but you, my friend, took all that away.  In a moment of weakness, I shot my own wife.  For you, Joseph.  You!  And look at you now.”

Spittle flew from his mouth.

“You’re nothing.  A nobody.  You’re the kind of man everyone loves to hate.  That’s who you’ve become, my friend.  You’re filthy.  Smelly.  Unshaven and Martin Sears had proved to the world that even the mighty Joe Cartwright can be taken down and destroyed.  Just like Eli, you’re a burden to society, and you have me to thank.  Me, Joseph!”

The tirade was over, and even after Martin stood to his feet, I remained unmoving until he walked inside the bunkhouse and slammed the door behind him.  Dripping and cold, I pushed myself up and walked toward the house, his words still echoing in my ears.

Chapter 75

With its barren landscape and relentless heat, the desert could intimidate even the strongest of men.  Days of torment had threatened my sanity.  Days without food and water end proved that man alone had to fight to survive, that even the Almighty had forsaken those he found worthless and distrusting of his goodness.  Lost and afraid of my own shadow, I struggled to find my way.

Dreams were abundant.  Out of nowhere, a cool cloth was pressed to my forehead.  The tender touch yielded hope, but I was restless and brushed off the hand that moments ago gave comfort.

At times, my body would jerk and seize as if I were riding the fiercest bronc through the gates of hell, but the bronc would eventually still, and the long ride was finished.  Often, I climbed back on for a second round, and by the end of the ride, my legs ached, and my body screamed, “No more!”  But I was a fool kid, and I climbed back into the saddle again and again.

The desert heat bore down like iron weights, and I’d kick out for relief, curl into myself, and shake uncontrollably until I was sick and heaved my guts on the desert floor.  The dragon laughed, reveling in my panic and fear.

Time eluded me.  Day rolled into night and nights were exchanged for days.  Maybe I was ill.  Maybe I’d lost my mind during the long days of travel.  Voices mumbled in whispered tones, but the roar in my ears outweighed any banter that surrounded me.  Words escaped me.  The dragon pitched a fiery breath and I sobbed.

Tears streaked my cheeks when I laid eyes on my father’s face.  A sad but gentle smile broke through, but it was fleeting.  Dreams could bring joy, but dreams were far from real.  I turned my head away from the mirage.  Just the thought of Pa watching over me put my mind at ease and brought a calm I hadn’t felt for days, maybe even weeks.  I was so tired.

When I sensed my father’s hand touch mine, I was so unnerved by the vision of home and family, I wrestled my hand away and scrunched up tighter under my bedroll.  Night had fallen, and I waited for the icy chill to seep into my bones, but it never came.  On this night, the desert felt warm and welcoming, and I drifted off into a restful sleep.

“Joseph.”

When the voice called my name, my eyes fluttered open.  Morning had come too soon, and I shuddered at the thought of another lost day, but something was different.  I stared at an open window where a gentle breeze ruffled a lacy-white curtain.  A fire had been built in the fireplace but left untended; all that remained were radiant coals.  My eyes shifted to the picture of my Indian.  An oddity to some, but the old man always entertained me when I glanced his way.

“Little Joe?”

I scrubbed my face with my hands.  Pa was calling.  Was I late for breakfast again?  I tried to holler back and tell him I was coming, but confusion set up camp in my head.  Dreams and mirages.  I’d grown tired of the nightmare that ruled my life.

“Pa?”  I said the word aloud.  Was I delirious with fever?  The sight of my father sitting on the edge of my bed seemed foreign but very real.  He’d hovered my subconscious for so long that if I could fight my way out of the nightmare, maybe the mirage would be real.  “Pa.”

“I’m right here, son.”

I reached out and touched my father’s face, but I wanted to shout at the absurdity of it all.  When Pa reached for the back of my neck and pulled me close, the warmth I felt nearly brought me to tears.  A great sense of loss kept me from letting go.  I needed my pa so much that I didn’t care whether I was dreaming or not.  Bay Rum and pipe tobacco, a new and delicious part of the dream opened the floodgates.  Tears streaked my cheeks, and I bawled like a baby.

A cool breeze blew through the open window, and my hair ruffled when a small gust lifted the curtain aside.  Maybe I’d died and gone to heaven.  When my mind began to clear, I blinked repeatedly, but the mirage still held me in his arms, tighter than before.  The Indian stared back.  I think he smiled.

Sitting up in bed, I struggled to distance myself from my father’s embrace.  There was no use dreaming of what I couldn’t have or needed most.  I was fooling myself if I thought Pa would take me in his arms and show compassion for his useless, drunkard son.  A son who’d betrayed everything good my father stood for.

“You’re okay now, Joseph.”

I trembled at the sound of his voice though I had no response.

“Take it easy, boy.”

“Pa?”

“Yes, Joseph.”

“You came home?”

“We’re all home, son.  Your brothers are downstairs.  They’ll be glad to know you’re back with us.”

“Back with us?”

Pa smoothed the matted hair from my forehead and reached for both of my arms.  “You’ve had a rough few days.”

I glanced around the room.  The curtain still moved, and the fire had nearly burned out.  The Indian didn’t seem as jolly.  “Days?”

“That’s right.”

“Martin?”

“He’s gone, son.  Hop Sing said he rode out just minutes before we rode in.”

My bedroom door opened just enough for Hoss to pop his head through.  His grin made me realize how much I’d let my family down.  “Hey, little brother.”

I couldn’t speak.  I didn’t know how to react or what to say.

“You feelin’ better?”

“I’m fine.”

Pa’s smile told me I’d said something amusing although I didn’t get the joke.

“Hey,” Adam said when he walked in behind Hoss.  “Look who’s finally awake.”

I looked at Pa, still confused about a lot of things, but I chose not to ask questions; at least not yet.  I felt an odd sense of detachment.  Something must’ve gone terribly wrong, but Pa couldn’t know the extent of my problem.

“I’m glad you’re back with us, son.  Paul said it would take time.”

“Doc’s been here?”

“Twice.”

Hoss still grinned from ear to ear, but Adam’s face remained passive.  He gave nothing away, but he was the one I needed to talk to.  Even Hop Sing stood in the doorway.  A slight bow of his head reminded me that he knew everything that went on since the day Pa and my brothers rode out.  With an air of tranquility, he backed out of the room and nothing was said.

“I’m kinda hungry, Pa.”

“Good.  I’ll have Hop Sing bring you a bowl of soup.  Think you can keep it down?”

“I think so.”

Pa turned to Hoss.  “Would you tell Hop Sing?”

“Sure will.  He’s been boilin’ a chicken for nearly two days.”

When I tried to sit up taller, Pa rushed to add pillows behind my back.  “That’s good,” I said.  I’d grown accustomed to doing for myself, and all the fuss made me uneasy.  A lowdown miserable drunk didn’t deserve sympathy or acts of kindness.

Adam had left with Hoss, but Pa remained at my bedside.  After the tray arrived, he helped me eat the soup.  My hands were shaky, and I felt self-conscious when I dribbled hot broth, and Pa hurried to wipe my chin.  I should’ve been grateful for the active attention he provided, but I wanted to be alone.  I didn’t want my father to stare at me and realize how much his son had changed.

I handed Pa the empty bowl and snuggled down under the covers as though I was ready to sleep.  “That’s good, son.  You rest now.”

“Pa?”

“Yes.”

When the dream had shifted to reality, and I was no longer stuck in the pits of hell, I realized Pa knew more than he was letting on, and there was only one person who would tell me the truth straight out.  “Would you tell Adam I want to talk to him?”

“Right now?”

I didn’t answer but Pa got the message.  “Okay, but keep it short.  You need your sleep.”

“I will.”

I knew chicken soup was a cure-all, but I didn’t realize how tired I’d become and nearly fell asleep before Adam walked in and pulled a chair beside the bed.  “Pa said you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah.”  I pushed back up to a seated position.  “I’m not sure where to start.”

“You’ve had a rough time, Joe, but you’re going to make it through.”

“You know … everything?”

“Yes.”

“Pa?”

“I’m afraid so.”  Adam pressed his elbows against his knees and leaned forward.  “Let me guess.  You feel like you’ve disappointed Pa, and you want to make amends, but you’re not sure where to start.”

“You some kind of mind reader or what?”  My brother smiled but didn’t offer anything more.  “How much does Pa know?”

“You were sick when we returned home, and you’ve been hovering in and out of consciousness for the last five days.”

“Sick.”  I wanted to laugh.  “That’s one way to put it.”

“Let’s leave it at sick.  It sounds more dignified than completely out of your mind.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah.”

“And Pa saw it all?”

“He did.”

“You and Hoss?”

“We did.”

I threw my head against the headboard.

“Come on, Joe.  Don’t rip yourself apart.  The worst is over now.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Curiosity made me study Adam’s face, and a twitching muscle in his jaw gave him away.  “You too?”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Kane?”

“No.  God, no.  I knew better by then.”

Pleading only with my eyes, Adam reluctantly told a story that took him back nearly twenty years.  As a young freshman in college, he met a girl.  “We walked to classes together, and we studied together.  We ate dinner together and went to socials.  Eventually, we became inseparable.”

I understood all that.  I wasn’t naïve to the lure of a pretty woman.  Anything was possible where a girl was concerned, but when he hesitated, I filled in the blanks.  “You fell in love.”

“I fell in love.”

“But that’s no reason to—”

Adam held up his hand.  “There’s more.”

I tried not to seem too anxious, and maybe I was meddling where I didn’t belong, but I wanted to hear the story.  I hoped I could stay awake.  Since Adam made it through Kane and the desert without sinking as low as I had, I wanted to know where that strength had come from, and I felt he was about to tell me.

“I wasn’t aware of her father’s money and status in the community for weeks into the relationship.  I’m sure you think none of that matters, but life is different here in the West.  If you’re an only child, and your father’s a highly regarded industrialist on the Eastern seaboard, relationships matter a great deal.”

“Her Pa didn’t like you?”

“You could say that.  But, if I’m going to be honest, Joe, he hated everything about me.  In his eyes, I was a nobody and certainly not the right young man to be seen escorting his daughter around campus.  When he found out a country boy—that’s what he called me—was squiring his only offspring, the relationship was all but finished, but Marianne wouldn’t let it die.”

“Good for her.”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I was young and foolish, and I didn’t see the signs.  I was in love and wanted to marry the girl.  It means we became even more intimate than before her father intervened.  My studies suffered, and I was called into the dean’s office and nearly sent home from college.  It was a bad time, Joe.”

“Pa doesn’t know any of this, does he?”

“No.”

“Okay, go on.”

Adam sucked in a deep breath.  “Long story short, Marianne hated her father, but that didn’t mean she loved me.  She never loved me and … realizing she used our courtship as a ruse to get back at her father caused even greater problems; at least for me.  I left Marianne behind and concentrated on my studies.  That’s all I ever wanted, Joe.  A college education.  Night and day, I studied like crazy.  Like you at that age, I needed to prove myself.  I needed to be the best, and that’s where I ran into trouble.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.”  Adam worried his fingers between his knees.  He didn’t look up.  “I became quite ill and was prescribed paregoric for my stomach and bowel problems.  After I had recovered, I was behind in my classes and tried like hell to catch up.

“My roommate, Edward Hawkins, was an English major, an A+ student.  He wrote poetry and beautiful sonnets, and he revealed the magic of laudanum and how it expanded his thoughts and enhanced his imagination.  Foolishly, I was led to believe that poetry and architecture were much the same and that a vivid imagination would prove beneficial.”

I could see where this was going and it made me squirm on the bed.

“I traded the paregoric in for laudanum and found that that there was truth in what Edward had said.  The professor’s account at the end of my first year was glowing with praise.  But there was a problem.”

“You couldn’t stop taking the laudanum, could you?”

“When the school year was over, I tried to stop, but by mid-summer, I was still using a few drops a day just to get by.  It didn’t take long to realize I was … what should I say, Joe.  Trapped?  Putting drops of laudanum in a glass of water was no different than you with the whiskey except for one important aspect I don’t think you’re aware of.”

“What’s that?”

“Martin betrayed you in the worst way possible.”

“My drinking had nothing to do with him.  Not really.  I managed that all by myself.”

“No … you didn’t.”

I pushed myself up taller in the bed.  “You haven’t finished your story.”

“Let’s finish this one first.”

“Fine.  I know you and Hoss don’t like Martin, and neither does Hop Sing for that matter, but he didn’t force me to drink.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aw, come on, Adam.  You want me to blame him?  No, I did this all by myself?”

“I don’t think so.”

“He may be an ass, but forget it.  The drinking was my own damn fault.”

“Do me a favor.”  Adam glanced toward my hands.  “Look at your fingernails.”

“What?”  I chuckled.  “What do my nails have to do with anything?”

“Just look.  It’s the first thing Doc noticed when he was here.”  I looked down at my hands.  “Paul called them Mees’ lines.  In other words, you were poisoned, Joe.  Arsenic.”

“Arsenic?  What are you talking about?”

“Groundwater in the mines is loaded with arsenic.  It’s tasteless and colorless, and Doc believes Martin added it to the whiskey you drank.”

“I can’t believe he’d … “

“Cramping.  Dizziness.  Excessive swallowing.  Sound familiar?”

Tears blurred my eyes.

“Martin wasn’t much different than his wife.  He didn’t want you dead, but he wanted you to suffer.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“Until Pauline infected his mind with hate, you were good friends, Joe.  We’ll never know everything she said to him, but she changed him.”

Could Adam be right in his thinking?  If the doctor said I was poisoned … he should know, but could it be true?  I thought about our final conversation outside the bunkhouse.  “He compared me to his father.  He wanted Pa and the whole town to hate me, a burden to society.”  I looked up at my brother.  “You’re the kind of man everyone loves to hate.  Those were his words, Adam.”

“And I believe that was his intent.”

“I never saw it coming.  The hurtful words.  The comparison to Eli until it was too late ”

“It’s over now, and no one hates you, Joe.  Maybe Martin, but he’s long gone.”

“I thought the only thing that would stop my gut from seizing was another drink, but it only made things worse, didn’t it?  Every time I drank … damn him!”

“I’m sorry, Joe.”

“Why didn’t I know?”

“How could you know?”

I scrubbed my hands over my face.  “I was such a fool.”

“I beg to differ, and if you’ll let me finish my story, I’ll tell you why.”

“I don’t think storytelling is gonna help.”

“Just listen.”  Adam clasped his hands and looked straight at me.  “There’s a big difference between Edward and Martin.”

“He did the same thing to you, didn’t he?”  My voice sounded weak and unsure.  “He got you started on laudanum.”

“Edward wasn’t out to hurt me.  He’d fallen into the same trap as I, and we formed a pact.  Neither of us would take another drop of laudanum, and we threw our respective bottles in the fireplace together.  Each day was a struggle, but the two of us held strong.  We encouraged each other to stay on track.

“I’ll admit it wasn’t easy, Joe.  We were both back in school after summer vacation, and even after a long period without, we backslid.  A friend of a friend offered and—well, we both caved to the glorious wonders of laudanum.  A few drops later, we were able to stay up all night and study for our upcoming exams.

“After that night of stupidity, though, we fought hard to keep each other strong.  We shared the same goals.  I had a good friend, Joe, and according to Hop Sing and Doc Martin, you did not.”

I forced the slightest grin.  “I’m not a very good judge of character, am I?”

“You’re wrong, Joe.  My guess is Martin couldn’t let go of the life he’d imagined with his new bride.  He had to know she was evil, and he proved that when he shot her, but something more sinister settled in his mind.  Something went off inside his head, and he ended up blaming you for a life that should’ve been.

“He changed, Joe, but you were the same loyal friend you’d always been, which is why you never saw it coming.  You couldn’t know his mind was filled with hate.  You couldn’t know he purposely plied you with bottle after bottle topped off with arsenic water for just one reason.  To watch Joe Cartwright fall from grace.”

“God, I was such a fool.”

“We both were, little brother.”

I studied my older brother’s demeanor.  Discussing past mistakes wasn’t his way.  In fact, if someone else had told me my brother had “fallen from grace” I would’ve called him a liar and then beaten him within an inch of his life.  Adam shared a secret that would’ve remained a closed chapter in his life, but he wanted me to understand that neither of us was perfect, that we were flawed human beings, but we were survivors.

“Do you ever think back on those days?”

“I try not to but one thing I know for sure.  We’re both stronger than before.  We survived a bump in the road and were better men for it.”

“Maybe you are.”

“You will be in time.  The only struggle now is within yourself, but you have family.  You have our support, and we’ll see you through.”

“Thanks, brother.”

“For what?”  Adam’s features lightened.

“For trusting me enough to tell your story.”

Adam sat back in the chair.  “Maybe it’s time I came clean to Pa too.”

“Seriously?  Hey, don’t let one bad apple spoil the whole barrel.”

“There’s still Hoss.”

“He’s the good son.”

“Always will be.”

“One outta three ain’t bad.”

Adam stood from his chair and ruffled my hair.  “Go to sleep.”

“You really gonna tell Pa?”

“You weren’t entirely innocent, but two bad apples might soften the blow.”

I slid under the covers and pulled the blanket up over my shoulder.  Denying that the last few weeks had left physical and emotional scars that would stay with me for the rest of my life was a given, but Cartwright men were fighters.  That’s one thing Martin didn’t count on.

Adam said the worst was over and that my family had my back.  I trusted a friend to see me through a bad time but friendships, no matter how good they might seem, can’t compare to the loyalty of family, and I had the best.

My brother had already slain his dragon, but with three good men behind me, I could slay my own dragon and become a man my family could take back into the fold, no questions asked.  With time and determination, I hoped to make Pa and my brothers proud of me again.

The End

2017

I fudged about 20 years.

The Alabama Supreme Court adopted irresistible impulse in 1887.