by

Beppina

Telegram received, Virginia City Station – June 12, 1865

TO: Cartwright, Ponderosa Ranch, Nevada Territory

MESSAGE: Send a son. Dire straits. Need help. – S.Davis

   Chapter One

Breakfast was the usual affair at the normal time. Hoss and I had finished the early morning chores, had a quick wash, and changed, ready to eat and then set about the day’s labours.

Pa sat at the head of the table. He wore a worried frown and held a crumpled piece of paper in one hand.

“Morning, Pa.” I greeted and sat in my usual seat. Hoss took his place opposite.

“Good morning, boys, chores all done?”

“Yes, Sir.” Hoss answered for us both, “What are the plans for today?”

Pa handed me the paper, a printed telegram with yesterday’s date. I read it, then passed it over to Hoss.

“Is that the Sam Davis that helped out at the lumber mill a few years back?” I asked between mouthfuls.

“Yes. A good man. He lost his wife a year or so ago, then moved out Coloma way. I’ve not heard from him in a while.”

“I wonder what the problem is, Pa?” Hoss mused and shovelled up another forkful of pancake and bacon.

“It’s got to be bad for Sam to ask for help. He’s an independent so and so at the best of times.”

“D’you want me to ride over to Coloma? It’ll take me a few days, but if I set off this morning, I can probably make it by Friday at the latest.” I questioned and pushed back from the table, anticipating Pa’s yes.

“Hold on there, Little Brother,” Hoss stopped me dead, “ could be old Sam needs a bit of muscle to fix his problem, not a bucket load of charm.”

I flashed Hoss a glare. I’d made the first offer to go help, “Pa?”

“Boys. How about you both go?” Pa, ever the peacemaker, spoke up, “He doesn’t say what’s wrong, maybe the two of you should go?”

The trail to Coloma is not good. Yes, we can follow the stage route, but that takes a while longer. If we cut over the Sierras, we can trim maybe half a day off. But it can be treacherous, and if the weather turns, we could be in trouble. I knew exactly what Pa was thinking; the two of us had a better chance than one on their own.

“Yeah, why not?” I agreed and slid a surreptitious kick under the table at Hoss’s shin.

“Huh? Oh yeah, Pa. That’s a good idea. Me and Joe, can cut over the top, take some supplies. Be like a few days’ vacation up there.” Only Hoss would think a few days on horseback, riding over mountain trails, could be a holiday, though there wouldn’t be time for sightseeing!

I’m sure Hop Sing had been ear-wigging from the kitchen door. I went to ask for supplies for the ride over to find him already packing up some dried goods, fresh bread and all the things we would need for the journey. It was about a hundred and twenty miles to Coloma, but with the terrain, it would be slow going. If we could make thirty to thirty-five miles a day, we would be doing well.

We set off around mid-morning. Pa waved us off with the usual, “Take care, keep me informed. Send me a wire when you know the situation.”

With a clasp of hands, a chorused, “Bye, Pa.” and leading a laden pack horse, Hoss and I set out in the direction of Carson City and our way south. Placerville would be the main town along the way, and depending on when we arrived there, we could estimate the onward journey time to Coloma.

Chapter Two

The stage route from Carson City is well-travelled. The stage from Placerville comes through daily now with some way stations along the way. It is in pretty good condition, packed dirt rather than loose shale. We followed it for a while, then veered off up into the mountains. Knowing how cold it can get overnight, we’d brought our heavy jackets tied to the pack horse. Even in the height of summer, the temperature drops, and it is cold.

Upwards we rode, not pushing Cochise or Chubb, but taking it steady. In some places, the trail was firm, easy going. In others, we scrambled over shale and rocks, watching every step we took. There were occasions when we dismounted and led our horses. The rocks were too slippery, or the shale too unstable, to ride over. If we were on Hoss’s idea of a vacation, we could have taken in the glorious sights below and before us. Green verdant valleys swept away into the distance. The trees created a carpet of vibrant colour. The sunlight catching the odd water source, sending a bright flash to greet the sky. The sky was the shade of blue that I can’t accurately describe, a wishy-washy, watery hue, uncluttered by clouds. Other than the blazing golden orb hanging above us, the only living things visible were the elegant eagles and vultures, who went about their business with no thought of us trespassing in their hunting domain.

 We found a small clearing protected by boulders to one side that made a perfect windbreak. Up on the mountain, the wind could, and often did, pick up without warning. Here we would be safe from anything it could throw at us. With our bedrolls snug near the fire, we settled to eat. Hop Sing did us proud with his supplies. Our first night on the mountain was a feast of chicken, fruit, and cake. Replete with food and my coffee, we turned in for the night.

“Joe, it’s time you learnt to make a decent cup of coffee,” Hoss grouched across the fire, “I’ll make it tomorrow, and you can watch and learn.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my coffee,” I protested, “just ’cause you like it so that your spoon stands up in it.”

“G’night, Little Joe.” The subject of coffee was closed.

“G’night, Hoss.”

                                                            Chapter Three

Onward we travelled, still high above the stage route. Played out before us, the land continued to rise and fall as mountains gave way to valleys and back to mountains. We could see the change in the tree line, Pine gave way to Oak, then again to Aspen. We weren’t strangers to this land, but often forgot the beauty that it beheld. Even though we were on a mission to help a friend, there were moments we had to stop to admire the majestic countryside laid out before us. The peak of Echo Summit stands proud just behind us. Beyond that, another peak not as high but still as imposing. With every twist and turn of the trail came another stunning view, at times enough to make you gasp at its beauty.

“Sure is pretty up here,” Hoss sighed, “reminds me of the Ponderosa, you know, up overlooking the lake.”

“It sure is. Come on, we need to get a move on. Daylight’ll be fading soon, we need to find a spot to set up camp.

Chapter Four

Our third day on the trail found us closer to Placerville; we could go down through the town, or skirt it and make our way to Coloma. It didn’t take much for us to decide to follow our original idea and turn off north of Placerville in the general direction of Coloma and Auburn.

We reckoned we were about three or four hours away from the town we sought. It was an easy ride up through the valley. The road we picked up was good. During the gold mining boom, it had been in constant use for supplying the mines and workers. Now things were much quieter. The miners had moved on to Virginia City and the silver mines, leaving a few homesteaders behind and Coloma in a steady decline.

Onward and upward we went, keeping the river to our left. It was still a pleasant journey, oak trees lined the countryside, some near the river edge, others a statuesque backdrop to the rising mountain. The tree line gave way to a rockier landscape. The sight of deserted diggings began to dot the area. We passed a couple of working claims. Weary, bedraggled men bent low over sieves as they searched for a nugget or two in the debris from the river.

Coloma appeared, a small town hugging the side of the mountain. The decay was obvious. The main street was a row of twenty or so sun-bleached timber buildings. One, it looked like an old boarding house, leaned tight beside what appeared to be a saloon. The boarding house windows were thick with dust. I wondered how long it had been since it had last hosted guests. The building looked for all the world like a drunkard supporting the saloon as it tilted to one side. Further up was a white painted church and what could have been a school. Whether either was still in use, I couldn’t guess. All the other buildings were in a similar state of repair. It wasn’t quite a ghost town, but within another couple of years, it certainly could be. Even the air we breathed felt dry and dusty, and old, and it clung to our lungs.

Hoss’s voice broke through my contemplations, “Joe, look. The saloon’s open. I reckon we’ve time for a beer and some information.”

Seeing two men stagger from the saloon, I had to agree with my brother. Sam Davis hadn’t given us an address, just Coloma. A saloon would be the ideal place to confirm our destination.

Securing the horses at the rail, I followed Hoss into the shady, and surprisingly quiet room. Half a dozen men stood belly up to the bar. Obvious by their garb as gold seekers, we, covered in trail dirt, fitted in well with the dusty surroundings. The purchase of two beers, two thick beef sandwiches and the sharing of our questions soon had us supplied with the directions we needed. Thanking them for their help, we were back on the road. Our destination was about an hour away.

More deserted diggings began to litter the riverbank. So far, we hadn’t seen another human being since leaving the small town. At a guess, I thought the gold had played out, and other than the few men we had met in the saloon, everyone else had gone.

Chapter Five

At a bend in the river, we spotted the track leading toward a clump of oak trees. The thinnest whisp of smoke curled off to one side. Spurring our horses on, we soon laid eyes on a small, quite ramshackle, run-down stone and wood dwelling. The chimney, precarious in its one-sided tilt,  was the source of the smoke I had seen.

“Hello, the house!” I called for attention. Side by side, we approached the building. My hand was resting on the butt of my revolver. Hoss had his gun in hand. I shouted again, still no response.

Moving forward, I saw the corral was in desperate need of repair. A skinny, grey donkey paid veiled attention to us as we passed by. It brayed loud and long. We would see if we could find fodder for it after we saw Davis.

Hoss rapped on the door. No reply. Rapped again and applied gentle pressure. With little effort, the door swung open into a darkened space.

“Mr Davis—” I called out, “It’s Joe and Hoss Cartwright—”

The slightest moan escaped from what looked like a bundle of old rags on a cot pushed up close to the wall. It was so cold in the cabin that I could feel damp getting through to my bones within minutes of being there.

“Mr Davis, it’s Joe Cartwright. Pa sent us to help you.”

“Cartwrights. You came.” Davis’s voice was less than a whisper; he tried to sit up.

“You just stay there, Mr Davis.” Hoss towered over the sick man, one hand keeping him from getting up.

“What’s happened?” I asked, kneeling at the bedside, “Pa said it was urgent; we came as quick as we could.”

“My boy. My boy, Nate. He’s missing. Been five days now. He’s fourteen. He reckoned he could get some gold. Get me a doctor. Now he’s gone.” A hacking cough filled the room. The poor man tried to sit up, but the cough was worse. He flopped back, exhausted from the exertion.

“Rest easy there,” Hoss towered over Sam Davis, “we’ll find him, don’t you worry none.”

Between us, we got Sam sitting up in his bed. I wouldn’t like to say the last time his bed had been changed, but I guess in his state of health, it was not so important to him. I did wonder how in heaven’s name he had got to Coloma to send a telegram? I guessed we would find out during our stay.

“Any idea which way he went?” I asked. “It’s too late to go looking now, but we’ll head out early tomorrow morning.”

Taking a deep breath, Sam started, “Reckoned he was going up by the old Liberty diggings. There are miners up there. Heard tell they’re a rough lot. Heard stories they’re mean as hell.” Another cough ripped through his frame. The piece of rag he held was now blooming with the brown-red blood from his lungs.

Consumption.

“We’ll get a fire going in the stove and build this one up some,” Hoss announced, “It’s too cold and damp in here. You got wood stacked outside?”

A nod of agreement, and Sam lay back. The amount of wood we found wouldn’t keep a fly warm in summer, let alone a house with a sick man during the winter. I gathered up what I could and left Hoss chopping some logs to feed the fire.

Twilight was falling, the sky darkening minute by minute. I soon found some oil for the lamps, then had the stove loaded with kindling and lit. My next task would be to find some food for Tom; we still had a little of Hop Sing’s supplies. We wouldn’t go hungry.

By the light of the lamps, I could see how short of furnishings the cabin was. Sam’s bed stood butted up against one wall. A door beside it led me to believe that it was Nate’s bedroom. I was surprised to see the cooking range was quite modern and not unlike the one in our kitchen at home. The rest of the main room had a table, two chairs, an elderly dresser, and a small clock on the mantelshelf. By appearances, Sam Davis had fallen on hard times since the death of his wife.

From outside, I could still hear the steady thump, thump, as Hoss swung his axe and chopped wood.

“Just going to help Hoss,” I told Sam and went to find my brother. A good pile of wood lay to one side, his rhythm never changing as he worked.

“I’ll go feed the stock and see what’s available to eat, then come help get this lot inside,” I told him as I walked into the dark of the barn. Luck had it as a lamp hung by the door. I soon found some oats and dry fodder for the donkey, and a solitary milk cow in one stall. Looking at her udders, she was full and needed to be milked. Now that was good fortune! With the donkey fed and the broken fence rails wedged in place, I explored further. A pig snuffled around in a small pen behind the barn. I did think of killing it, but reconsidered. That pig might be life or death to the Davises come wintertime. A chicken coup stood side by side with the barn, and a quick feel gave me a prize of a handful of eggs. I hoped to get Sam to eat something decent this evening.

Hoss’s effort paid off. We soon had a good blaze going in the fireplace, and the range was warming, ready to cook.

A quick search of the store pantry produced some bacon, coffee, flour, and the eggs I had gathered. We did get some food into Sam, although not enough. He was so weak and malnourished that his stomach couldn’t take it. Hoss and I ate our fill, and then Hoss was kind enough to make the coffee so it was drinkable. Sam had a bottle of brandy tucked in a cupboard that he encouraged us to have a dash or two with the coffee. It was a most welcome addition to warm us for the night. Darkness had fallen by the time we had finished. Our horses were bedded down in the barn. We set our bedrolls out between the fire and range and settled in to sleep. Sam had another bad coughing fit, and to be honest, I didn’t think it would stop, but he did settle and managed to fall asleep. Hoss grunted his goodnight and soon began his window-rattling snores. I pulled my blanket up over my ears, turned to face the flickering and dancing flames and surrendered myself to dreams,

  Chapter Six

We were up with the dawn. I prodded the range and the fire back to life while Hoss fed the horses and stock. We fixed soft eggs for Sam while we had a bit of bacon and eggs to get us going. Making sure the worried father had water on hand should he need it, we set off in the hope of finding his boy sooner rather than later.

Leaving the cabin, we backtracked to the trail, then turned off in the direction of Auburn. Travel was slower now. We watched for signs that the boy had passed through. Good fortune was still with us; there hadn’t been any rainfall to wash the tracks clear or winds to blow them to who knows where. Rocks littered the way forward, loose shale slipped underfoot, but onward we went, taking it in turns to walk, our eyes fixed on the ground.

More deserted diggings appeared along the river edge. Troughs left to rot in the elements, lean-to and cabins empty and desolate, falling drunk-like victim to winter winds.

“Hoss, I’ve found a track.” I called back to my brother, “It’s small enough to be a kid’s.” Now at last we had something to go on.

Morning merged to afternoon, the sun high in the clear azure sky. The boy seemed to have a destination in mind. He followed the trail, never veering off to the left or right, just carried straight on. Had he heard of a working mine further on, or was he just taking a chance until he found a place he could work? We would find out, sooner rather than later.

We rounded another curve following the river’s flow. The water tumbled and gurgled over rocks and pebbles, and the sun caused it to flash and dance as it made its way down to Coloma and beyond. For the first time, we encountered men working at the water’s edge and sieving water from the small wooden flumes. At first glance, there appeared to be about twenty all told. All clad in the prospectors’ uniform of battered hat, checkered shirt, neckerchief, well-worn pants, and boots. They were all big men. Hoss-sized men. They didn’t pay us much notice as we walked into their camp. A couple of shelters stood alongside some cabins. Compared to others we’d seen earlier, these were like palaces. Well looked after and kept tidy.

A large, bushy-bearded man stood guard over what appeared to be the camp kitchen fire. He had a grubby, food-stained, grey apron tied around his considerable girth. Like Hoss, he liked his food!

Hoss handed me Chubb’s rein and moved across to the cook.

“Howdy,” he greeted, hand outstretched in friendship. “Names Cartwright, Hoss Cartwright. This here’s my brother, Joe.”

Another big paw took Hoss’s, “Jed Anderson. What can we do for you?”

“We’re looking for a boy. Been missing from home for ‘bout a week now. His pa reckons he come up this way looking for gold. Any chance you might have seen him?” Hoss asked.

“He’s about fourteen, kind of skinny and not so tall.” I added, “ his pa is real worried for him.”

The big man shouted across to his friends, who came over to join us. Jed explained our questions while we waited for their news.

“Yes, there was a kid come by, back end of last week if I remember rightly,” another man answered, “The name’s Pat Murphy.”

“That’s right. He didn’t stick around, though. Said he needed to find gold and quick, something about his pa’s ill.” Another offered.

“I told him he was being foolish and to go on home,” Jed continued, “fool kid wouldn’t listen though. I think he went up to the old mine workings. It’s been shut down for years. Played out  about five years back. We ain’t seen him since. Just thought he carried on up the road.”

“How far is the mine?” I asked, thinking, would the kid have tried to get in there?

“Just up there a ways, quarter mile, maybe. If you’re going up there, best leave the horses here. It gets slippery with the loose rocks and all.” Jed finished. “I hope you find him.”

“So do we, fellas, so do we. Thanks for your help. We’ll get the horses on the way back if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Jed laughed, “ we won’t eat them.”

 Chapter Seven

The prospectors had been right; the trail was dangerous. Every step caused a slip of stones and rubble. We had a hard enough time staying on our feet; the horses would have struggled the whole way. At least staying in the camp, they would be safe from injury. I hoped he was joking about eating them.

There it was!

A dark maw of a hole blasted out of the mountainside. We edged our way closer; the entry was boarded up to keep people out of the mine. Hammered across the top was a bold sign painted with a skull and crossbones, and the words:

 MINE CLOSED KEEP OUT DANGEROUS

Hoss gave one tug on the boards, and the whole structure gave way. The opening exposed and offered easy access to whatever lay beyond.

Big Brother stepped into the darkness. I drew my revolver, unsure of what we might encounter. I wanted to be ready for anything.

“Hold up, Joe.” Hoss stopped, felt around the wall until he found what he was looking for. “Here we are,” he announced, “just what we need.” In the dark gloom, I could see that he held an oil lamp in one hand. I hoped there was sufficient oil for our search.

Now, within a halo of yellow light, we worked our way into the first corridor. The air was stale but breathable. It was also damp. The smell of men long since departed still lingered. The walls were wet, and rivulets trickled from roof to floor to form puddles in the uneven ground.

We slipped and slithered, crouched and squeezed, through the narrow corridor into another. It was darker and colder. The air was just fresh enough to keep going. I followed Hoss as close as I dared. I don’t like the dark, I don’t like mines, and I don’t like enclosed spaces. And yet here I was, in the dark, in a mine and in a very enclosed space. All I could think of was the hundreds of tons of rock balanced above my head. Just the thought of it made my breathing increase, and my heart go at double its normal rate. Hoss must have sensed my growing fears; he stopped and turned to face me, “You okay, Little Brother?”

“Umm, guess so. We okay for oil in that  lamp?”

“Yeah, we’ll turn round in a bit. I can’t see any prints, but with all this water it’s not easy. I reckon he might have walked past the mine and gone on to Auburn.”

“Give it another five minutes, then turn back.” I was anxious to get out of the place.

“I’ll give a shout!” Hoss stopped, “Hello, anyone here?” His voice echoed back from the depths.

We stood in silence. Was that a faint cry we heard, or was it wishful thinking?

“Hello!” Hoss bellowed again. They all say our Pa can be heard in San Francisco when he lets rip, but I reckon brother Hoss could give him stiff competition. “Nate, are you here?” The sound echoed through the passages.

“I heard something, Hoss. Shout again.”

There it was again, very weak, and still a distance away. But it was a voice, and we hoped it was the one we sought.

Down a slope, then up an incline, across a small tunnel, we followed the corridor. Hoss shouted every minute or so as we waited for the answering reply. It was Nate. He replied to his name. He was scared, terrified and wanted out.

“Damn!” Hoss cursed, and the lamp showed the corridor blocked. It was a rockfall. The ceiling had collapsed, trapping the boy behind it.

“We’re here, Nate.” Hoss called through, “I’m Hoss. Me, and my brother, we’ll get you out. You doing okay?”

“I’m stuck.” The voice was weepy and weak.

“Don’t worry, we’ll manage. Are you near the rock face?”

“Yes. There’s a beam on my legs. I can’t move it.” I could hear the panic in his voice.

“Hey, Nate, I’m Joe, Hoss’s brother. Listen, can you move at all, wriggle away from the wall?”

“No. I can’t move my legs. The beam’s too heavy. I want to go home.”

“Just hang on there, Nate. We’re working on it. Just try to relax for a bit. We’ll have to move some of the rocks to get to you, okay?”

Hoss had begun to move the rocks, one by one. We were in a narrow, tight space with little room to move or stack the boulders. The air was stuffy, nowhere near as fresh as earlier. The temperature was rising.

“We need help, Hoss. We can’t do this on our own. If you carry on moving this lot I’ll go roust those men, they’re experts at this. We could cause another fall.”

“We’ve only the one lamp, Joe. How you going to find your way in the dark?”

“Let me worry about that. I’ll be as quick as I can. Be careful what you move.” With a swift hug that said more than words ever could, I plunged back into the darkness to make my way back to daylight and the living world. My eyes soon adjusted to the lack of light, and I found I could see just enough of the tunnel to hurry forward. I remembered we had stayed on the same corridor the whole time, so I made sure I didn’t wander off into a side chamber.

I was breathing hard by the time I emerged into the brilliant sunshine, sweat drenching my back and my hair clinging to my neck and forehead. I had to squint as I looked up into the sky. Never had I been so happy to see the sun and sky before.

I turned to make a quick visual check on the mountainside. Was it stable enough for me to fire off a warning shot? I took a chance, drew my revolver, and fired off three rapid shots. I prayed the men working below me understood the meaning and prayed even harder that my action hadn’t put Hoss and the boy in further danger.

By the time I had covered a hundred yards or so, I was met by the prospectors all bounding up the track in my direction. After a quick explanation of the situation, most of them followed me back to the mine. Those who didn’t went back to the camp, to prepare for the injured boy and to build a stretcher to get him down to safety.

The men had come armed with lamps, picks, and shovels. Experience told them they would be needed.

These men soon put their backs into the rescue. Hoss was standing to one side, ‘to get his breath back’, as one put it. Another said to let the experts get on with it. But he kept up a constant chat with the boy; it was anything to stop the boy panicking. The men toiled. Rock by rock, they cleared a space. There was a constant chatter as they worked. A song was sung to keep the rhythm. Their shirts discarded; neckerchiefs wrapped as bandanas around their foreheads. Thick gloves moved rock after rock. The air was thick and sticky. And the heat was rising from the number of bodies and the lamps.

“We’re through!” A cheer echoed in the chamber, “It’s almost big enough for a man to get through.”

All eyes fell on me. I was the smallest and the slimmest of us all. I was the obvious man for the job.

 Chapter Eight

Minutes later, the crowd stepped back. Hoss took my jacket; I was too warm and too bulky to continue wearing it. With caution, I pushed my arms through the still small opening. By grabbing at an exposed timber, I was able to wriggle my torso through the hole. My legs and feet soon joined me, and I stood surveying the situation.

“Hi, Nate. I’m Joe. I was talking to you before. How are you feeling?”

“I hurt…” Then the tears began to flow.

“Hey, come on. You’ve got a whole team of men out there just waiting to rescue you. It won’t be long, and we’ll have you home.”

I could hear the buzz of conversation as the men discussed how wide the hole needed to be.

“Let’s have a look at this beam, shall we?” The light from the hole cast deep shadows in our chamber. I could see it was a large, heavy piece of timber, probably a roof brace that dropped with the fall. Given the limited space, I needed at least two others to help lift it.

“How’s the hole coming?” I poked my head through.

“Not long,” Jud answered, “how’s the kid?”

“Holding on.” It was the best I could say. Twenty minutes crawled by as they continued to expand the hole. I sat by Nate, trying to reassure him and keep him calm. Hoss would chat with us through the wall. An arm appeared,  followed by a dark, dusty head wearing a thick, bushy beard. The body grunted and groaned a little as it squeezed into our refuge. Jud’s bulk seemed to fill our confined space.

“Hello, Nate. Now, what have we here?” Another of the men managed to wriggle through, a huge grin covering his face.

“Well, you’re in a bit of a pickle, son, aren’t you?”

Between them, they checked if the chamber was safe enough to release Nate. The fall had dropped on either side of the boy, sealing the tunnel on both sides. We were trapped in a small chamber, not too much bigger than the outhouse at home.

“Reckon we can lift that beam in one,” Jud mused. “Joe, you pull Nate when I say go, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Mose, you reckon you can get behind the other end and lift with me?” Jed addressed the other man. The toothless grin he received in return was enough of an answer. We manoeuvred ourselves around the space. The two men-mountains, wedged into position facing me, while I stooped down and grabbed Nate under his arms.

“It’s going to hurt, Nate,” I warned, “you want to yell, you go ahead and yell, okay?” He nodded, his face now pinched and white, his jaw tight as he clenched his teeth in anticipation. Sweat beaded across his forehead.

“It’ll be over soon,” I whispered as I leaned close to his shoulders. My hands gripped him tight.

“On the count of three, you pull, Joe.”

“Ready…Three!” Jud shouted, Mose heaved, and I tugged the boy clear.

” Clear!” I shouted, and with a grunt from both men, the beam returned to the floor. Nate had not made a sound. Pulling him clear must have hurt; we could see both legs were broken, and exposed bones showed through the torn pants.

“Well done, Nate.” I crouched at his side, “We’ll have you out in no time now.”

“I—I— just wanted to help my pa, find some gold for a doctor…” The brave youth now became a child as he sobbed against my chest. With a gentleness I had only ever seen with my brother, Jud lifted the boy away from me. Hoss’s arms reached through the hole and took him to safety.

“Go on, Joe, you next, let’s get out of here.” Jud pushed me to our escape route. Hoss was already making his way back to daylight. The other prospectors were all back in the open. There was only Jud, Mose and me left below ground. Lamps were left burning, giving us a clear way out. I was anxious to reach daylight; the pressure of the enclosed space was beginning to get to me.

We heard a deep rumble. For a short moment, the ground shook. Dust tumbled from hidden cracks and surfaces.

“What!” I exclaimed.

“Run—” both Jud and Mose screamed.

We ran. If we had wings, we could not have run any faster. The rumble grew louder, and there was more movement of the mine floor; rocks fell around us.

“Keep going, keep going.” Jud’s voice was urgent in its tone. Daylight, only yards away. Another spurt of speed, a crashing of noise, a roar of destruction, a blast of dust, dirt, rocks, boulders, and debris.

We raced into daylight, behind us the sound of the mountain collapsing in on itself, burying every trace of human existence within. The force of the blast sent us three tumbling like dice, head over heels down the slope. We came to an abrupt stop at the feet of the others.

“You only just made it, Little Brother,” Hoss remarked as though it was a common occurrence for me to avoid being buried in a rock slide. Come to think of it, it’s not the first time it’s happened!

“I’d like to see you explain it away to Pa,” I sneered in response to his jibe.

There were a few cuts and bruises, the odd graze from our rapid departure and landing, but we were in one piece. And alive to tell the tale.

 Nate was carried to the camp on a makeshift stretcher. The rest of us followed in single file. For all his joking, Hoss had given me the once over and pronounced me well enough to walk under my own steam.

As if I would let him help me in front of all these big men!

Jed soon had a hot meal set in front of us all. Whatever the meat was, it tasted good. I didn’t recognise it but decided not to ask any questions. Hoss went back for seconds! Nate was fed and watered, then made as comfortable as possible. Mose checked Nate’s legs, immobilised them and gave him a shot of whiskey. He’d had medical training with the military some years before and now put it to good use. The boy soon fell into a fitful sleep. As we sat around the fire eating, they shared their stories and how they ended up working together on this sometimes fruitless task. They had heard of the rumours surrounding their camp but paid it little attention. If anything, they encouraged the gossip; it kept other prospectors away.

Night was not too far away; we decided to stay overnight at the camp, then make our way back to Sam Davis’s in the morning. Night travel could be dangerous at the best of times, and with a badly injured boy, we didn’t want to take chances. Hoss and I shared a tent near where Nate still slept. The men fixed up an old wagon they used for supplies, and we made that ready to move the youth.

Breakfast was a quick affair. Jud had hot, strong coffee, bacon and biscuits ready when we crawled from our bedrolls. We were soon ready to make our way down to Sam’s house. One of the younger men rode off to Coloma in the hope of finding a doctor. I filled him in on Sam’s condition and requested any drugs he thought might help. Sam may have been short of money, but we would cover the doctor’s bills. Mose had some skill, but not enough to set Nate’s broken legs.

Our progress to the cabin was slow. Mose tried to miss the worst of the ruts, but the wagon still tossed and rocked. The boy in the back was well-padded with bed rolls and blankets, but we could still hear his cries as he was bounced about.

Chapter Nine

The weak smoke rising from the chimney showed we had reached our destination. Getting the wagon as close as possible, Hoss lifted the boy into his arms.

“We’re home, Nate. Let’s go see your pa.”

 I pushed into the still and quiet room, and once again the fire was almost out; just a pale flame flickered in the hearth.

 “Sam, Sam, we’ve got your boy.” I stood at his bedside. He turned to face me, then the door, looking for his son.

“You found him? You found my boy?” Tears filled his tired eyes.

“Yes, we found him. Hoss is bringing him in. Sam, he’s hurt. We’ve sent for the doctor. And we’ve brought some help.”

The rest of our small party moved into the room. Nate’s bed was moved across to Sam’s, and Hoss laid the boy within arm’s reach of his father. I set the fire to warm the room and relit the range.

Jud took my place beside Sam.

“I’m Jed Anderson, this is Mose Jones. We helped get your boy to safety with Joe and Hoss here. Joe tells me things ain’t going so good for you just now?”

Sam nodded, “Since I took ill. Nate tries, but it’s too much.”

“Well, we’ve been thinking about things. And if it’s okay with you, Mose and me would like to help out. With Nate and the farm, you know, just to keep things running smooth for you?”

I stood to one side, my arms folded as I listened to their plan. Loners, they may have been. Rough mountain prospectors certainly, but they knew their help was needed, and it was offered with grace and friendship.

“We’ve taken a shine to young Nate here,” Mose spoke up, “with your permission, we’ll turn him into a farmer, or a miner, who knows. Maybe he’ll find gold for you yet.”

Sam’s cough took hold again, racking his weak body until he could barely breathe. “I thank you both.”

Jud and I shared a resigned look. I doubted Tom would last another week; I could see the same thought reflected in Jud’s eyes.

“Sam, me, and Hoss’ll stay here tonight, then make tracks for the Ponderosa tomorrow morning. You’ll be fine with Jud and Mose,  they’re going to stay as long as the doctor thinks fit, and then you can work something out between you.”

“Yeah, ” Hoss rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “you couldn’t be in better hands than these two.”

  Epilogue

Ben Cartwright sat pondering at his desk. The accounts book was still open on the same page as it had been for over an hour. The column of numbers would not add up, no matter how many times he had tried. He looked around the empty room, without his boys, it seemed bleaker, colder. Even Hop Sing had deserted him and gone off to Virginia City for supplies and a quick family visit.

“Quit worrying.” He muttered to no one in particular. “They’re fine, they’ll be home soon. Silly old man, they’re grown men, not children.”

A rapid rapping at the front door drew him from his thoughts. “It’s open, come in.”

“Morning, Mr Cartwright,” Petey Green, a youth from town, stood with an envelope in hand. “Telegram for you. Thought you’d want it straight away.”

Ben took the paper. “Thank you, Petey, if you would wait for a reply.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Ben held the paper, a smile breaking through his serious expression.

Telegram received, Virginia City Station – June 17, 1865

TO: Cartwright, Ponderosa Ranch, Nevada Territory

MESSAGE: Mission accomplished. Boys coming home. J&H

“No reply, Petey. Thank you.” Ben handed the young man a dollar and closed the front door.”

“Safe journey, boys.” He whispered, then returned to his desk and accounts. In three or four days, his boys would be home.

The End

By Marcella Petillo

PROLOGUE

It was truly a scorching summer!
Extremely high temperatures and drought were putting men and animals to the test.
It hadn’t rained for weeks; the streams in the valley had almost dried up, and the mountain torrents were reduced to trickles of water barely sufficient for the herds and wildlife to drink.
Even the magnificent Lake Tahoe had dropped in level, leaving a strip of white sand exposed, glistening under the fierce sun.

Three brothers were immersed in the deep water of the lake, seeking relief from the scorching heat of that late morning.
After finishing their errands in Virginia City—Adam at the bank on behalf of Pa; Joe picking up the mail and ordering oats and wheat for the horses, while Hoss was in charge of the supplies that Hop Sing was waiting for at home—the Cartwrights stopped at the lake after putting their horses and supply wagon in the shade of the large pine trees.
Sweat dripped from their overheated bodies.
They felt dirty, sticky, and miserable, and when Joe suggested stopping at the lake, there were no objections!

The cool water of the lake cradled their naked bodies, refreshing them.
They swam a little, with lazy, slow strokes, letting the water wash away the sweat and dust, then lay quietly in the water, chatting among themselves, the two older ones teasing the youngest, as usual.
Joe took it philosophically; he didn’t even get angry anymore.
He knew that was the price he had to pay for being the youngest in the family. He had stopped trying to prove his worth at all costs. He had grown up and matured, and at twenty-two, he no longer felt the need to elbow his way to assert his place in the family.

After a while, the brothers headed home, having slipped their clothes on over their still-wet bodies, enjoying the coolness they had achieved as much as possible. Joe flew onto Cochise with an agile, effortless leap and galloped off, shouting.
Adam stayed near the wagon with Hoss, and when they arrived home, well ahead of Joe, they immediately noticed the strange atmosphere.

Ben was sitting at his desk, deep in thought, and Joe was standing next to him, holding a telegram he had picked up that morning at the post office.
The serious expressions on both their faces worried Adam and Hoss.

“What’s wrong, Pa?” they asked in unison.

CHAPTER 1

Joe handed the telegram to his brothers, and Adam read it aloud

To: Ben Cartwright, Virginia City, Nevada. Received at: Virginia City, June 1st, 1865 Desperate straits. Can you spare a son immediately? Forever grateful. S. Davis

“What could have happened to him? It sounds serious!” Adam turned the telegram over and over in his hands, as if those few laconic words could reveal more.
Ben looked at his sons in turn. It wasn’t easy to decide which of them to send to his friend Davis.
He wouldn’t back down from that request for help, but he had no idea what the “desperate situation” was and therefore didn’t know which of his sons would be most useful in that circumstance.

Ben sighed and looked again at his sons, who were staring at him seriously and attentively. “All right, let’s take stock of the situation. You, Adam, have that appointment in Sacramento to finalize the terms of the timber supply contract. I could send Joe, but he has a whole corral of horses to break in, and we’re on a tight schedule with the army.
Hoss was supposed to move the herd to the mountains, where there is fresher grass and water. Our men can do it on their own if necessary, so you, Hoss, will go! The Davis Ranch is a day and a half away on horseback from here, so if you can get everything ready, you can leave tomorrow morning! As soon as you arrive, send a telegram and let us know what’s going on!”
“Yes, sir!” Hoss went up to his room to pack his saddlebags for the trip, but not before telling Hop Sing to prepare plenty of provisions for the journey.

The day passed with the Carwrights busy with their daily chores, and they found themselves at dinner, washed and changed, after hours of working under the hellish sun.

Joe had asked Hop Sing to prepare water for him to bathe in, and he gratefully immersed himself, feeling his tense, aching muscles relax in the warm water.
That afternoon, he had taken a couple of nasty falls from two particularly stubborn broncos. Nothing broken or serious, thankfully, but dark bruises had blossomed on his body and were painful.
These were the hazards of the trade, Joe knew and accepted that, but he was grateful that he wasn’t the one who would be leaving the next morning for the long journey on horseback to S. Davis’ ranch.

At dinner, they had talked and speculated about what the problem might be, but in the end, they had retired early to their rooms to rest.
Hoss would leave at first light to travel at least a few hours in the cool, while Ben had allowed Joe to get up later—given the obvious stiffness with which he moved after his falls—so Hoss and Joe said goodbye before going to bed.
They joked, laughed, and Joe made them promise to keep them informed after he arrived at the ranch.

CHAPTER 2

More than a week had passed since Hoss’s departure. Apart from a telegram with a few words announcing his arrival, nothing else had been received at home. No news, no explanation of the desperate situation for which S. Davis had asked for help.

Joe was starting to get nervous.

Adam had left for Sacramento reluctantly.

Ben was worried.

It wasn’t like Hoss to not give any news, especially in such circumstances.

What was preventing him from communicating with his family?

Joe had worked his ass off all day breaking in horses for the army. Working hard helped him not to think. He had to concentrate on what he was doing so as not to risk his life, and that evening, he was tired, much more than tired; he was totally exhausted.

He had barely eaten dinner after taking a long, hot bath to loosen his tense muscles and relieve the pain. At the table, Ben had looked at him with understanding, watching him move the food around on his plate, eating only a few bites. He had noticed his apathy; his eyes were occasionally closed, and his head was bowed over his chest.

“Joseph…” No reaction.

“Joe! You’re exhausted. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Sorry, Pa, I didn’t hear you…”

“Exactly, you’re so tired! Go to bed and get a good night’s sleep!”

“You’re right, I can’t take it anymore… I’d better go. Good night, Pa. See you tomorrow.”

In the middle of the night, a distressed scream pierced the silence of the large house.
Ben woke up with a start, turned on the lamp, and hurried to Joe’s room. The young man was sitting on the bed, covered in sweat, his eyes wide open but seeing nothing, amid a terrifying nightmare.

“Joe! Joseph! Wake up, son! It’s just a dream, a bad dream!”

He took him by his bare shoulders, shook him gently, and finally, a glimmer of recognition came into his son’s eyes.

“Pa…oh, Pa!…”

“You had a nightmare, Joe. Would it help to talk about it?” Ben sat down on the edge of the bed, ready to listen, but Joe shook his head slowly and looked his father in the eyes.

“I wish I could, believe me, I wish I could, but I don’t remember anything, just a terrifying sense of anguish, a weight, a feeling of oppression, something to do with Hoss, but I don’t remember anything else!”

Ben tried to smile at his son to calm him down.

“You’re worried about your brother because we haven’t heard from him. I understand, but we don’t know what emergency he encountered at Davis! Maybe he just hasn’t had the chance or the time to send us news yet. Let’s give him a few more days, you’ll see, he’ll be in touch soon. Now try to get some more sleep!”

Ben squeezed his son’s shoulder, smiled, ran his fingers through his messy, sweat-dampened curls, and made a joke to lighten the mood, “If you don’t get that mane cut, you’ll soon look like a…” and Joe finished the sentence for him, “…gambler on a Mississippi riverboat!”

They both laughed, said goodbye, and calm returned to the big house, but that night, father and son struggled to get back to sleep.

Three days had passed since that night.
Three more days without any news from Hoss.
Adam returned from Sacramento with the signed timber contracts and immediately sensed Joe’s nervousness and his father’s concern.
Ben tried to remain positive, but the prolonged absence of news from Hoss was seriously worrying him.
Joe was irritable, gloomy, quick-tempered, and ready to explode.

That day, Adam joined Joe in the barn as he was saddling Cochise to go to work at the corral. The horses for the army had all been broken in, and Joe was completing the training. Just a few more hours and he would be done with his assignment.

Adam looked at his younger brother. He saw his face drawn with fatigue, the dark circles under his eyes of someone who hadn’t rested enough and hadn’t slept well for days.
He felt sorry for him. He knew that Joe was physically exhausting himself in an attempt to keep his anxiety under control.
Adam was also apprehensive about Hoss. Too many days had passed without any news from him. Having no idea what emergency he was facing, they didn’t even know what to think.
They had sent a telegram to Davis, but had not yet received a reply.

“Joe, would you like me to come with you to the corral? You look tired. I could help you with the last few horses.”
The young man turned, surprised by his brother’s proposal.
“Well… I wouldn’t mind having you around! It doesn’t happen often lately! The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go cool off at the lake with a nice swim!”
Joe tried to keep his tone light, but Adam knew him too well and could see something in his eyes that Joe was usually immune to: fear.

The next few hours passed quickly. The work with the horses kept them focused, and they exchanged only a few words, but soon everything was finished, and the two brothers found themselves riding side by side toward the lake.
They were tired and bruised and couldn’t wait to dive into the cool water for some relief.
It was only after their refreshing bath and long swim—when they were lying on blankets drying off—that they started talking to each other again.

Joe sighed and tried to tell Adam about the feeling of anxiety that had been with him for days. His voice trembled as he spoke of Hoss, of his fear that something bad had happened to him. He confided in his brother, not wanting to worry his father any more than he already was.
Adam shared his feelings, and they decided to talk to Pa to decide how to proceed.
That evening, they were unable to do so.
Ben had a terrible headache and went straight to bed to rest.

Deep into the night, when the shadows are longest and deepest, Joe’s terrified scream woke everyone up, “Hoss!!!! Oh, my God, Hoss!”
Adam was the quickest to rush over and found his brother with his head in his hands and his eyes shiny with tears—just awakened from a nightmare—clearly desperate.
Ben followed close behind, and Joe grabbed his hands, overcome with uncontrollable anguish, “It’s Hoss, something’s happened to him, I know it, I can feel it! Pa, I want to go see what’s happening! I can’t just stay here and wait! Hoss needs help, I’m sure of it!”

Adam agreed, and Ben certainly didn’t have to insist much. It was time to find out what had happened, what Davis’s emergency was, and why they hadn’t heard from Hoss, despite his promises to keep them informed.

So they decided right then and there, in Joe’s room, that he would leave first thing in the morning, and Ben and Adam would follow as soon as they had organized things at the ranch for their absence.
Joe collapsed exhausted onto his pillow, knowing he would not sleep again, but relieved by the decision they had made.
He took the opportunity to pack his saddlebags with the necessities for the trip.
By dawn, he had already left.

CHAPTER 3

Ten days earlier.

A tired and dusty Hoss stopped in front of the saloon in the small town. Davis Ranch was a few miles outside of that cluster of houses.
He had just sent a telegram home to let them know he had arrived safely.
A couple of cold beers to wet his whistle, a bath to wash off the dust and sweat, a few hours of sleep, and then he would be on his way to the ranch.
In the meantime, he wanted to get an idea of what was happening in the area.

Listening to the men in the saloon, without letting on, he realized that the drought was putting a strain on the town and the surrounding ranches.
Many animals had died from lack of water and the relentless sun. It was hot in that sun-baked plain, the ground was dry and cracked, and many pastures had dried up. The ranchers had to resort to the hay they had set aside for the winter to feed the animals that could no longer find fresh grass.
Hoss already missed the great pine forests of home and realized that the situation in those parts was truly dire.

Four men were sitting at a table, drinking beer and complaining about the heat.
A tall, thin man with straw-like hair lowered his voice a little.
“I can’t wait to get out of here; this heat is killing me! I hope Sam arrives soon with the other men, so we can at least do what we have to do and leave!”
The others gave him dirty looks and silenced him.
“Shut up, you idiot! You’re talking nonsense!”

Hoss couldn’t help but notice and filed the information away in his mind.
After resting and getting directions to his destination, he set off again under the blinding sun.
When he later arrived at S. Davis’ ranch, he found him with two of his men digging a well.

There were greetings and thanks, and Davis said he was particularly pleased with Hoss’s arrival! His obvious physical strength would be useful. He was short of men; some had left to look for work elsewhere, driven by the prolonged drought.

The drought had hit the ranch hard. The water in the existing well was running out, and the horses he bred were getting sick.
The cattle were also in great difficulty, and Davis was in danger of losing everything! Everything he had worked hard for over many years.

Davis had spotted a small spring among the trees behind the barn and decided to enlarge it and build a new emergency well.
If the drought continued, at least they would have a chance.
Hoss immediately set to work, digging and shoring up the walls of the well as they descended deeper and deeper.
The small vein of water looked promising, its flow steady, a blessing!

They had been digging for three whole days. It was hard, slow, and dangerous work due to the uneven ground, full of stones and rocks.
They had had to break up the larger stones and rocks and carry them laboriously back to the surface, but on the fourth day, finally, the water had made its way through, and the well was full.
Now all that remained was to build the outer stone walls, position the bucket and pulley, and the well would be operational.

Hoss felt a little guilty for not being able to return to town to send a telegram to his family, as promised, but the work had been so much and so urgent that he had put it off.
Now he was already looking forward to a cold beer, and the telegram he would send would announce his return home.
He would tell them what had happened in person.
His friend Davis could manage the finishing touches on the well by himself.
There was plenty of water, and the emergency, at least for now, was under control.

Hoss couldn’t stand the hellish heat of that area anymore! He couldn’t wait to breathe in the scent of Ponderosa pine resin again and dive into the lake for a refreshing swim.
It was hot at home, too, of course, but not like in that damn place!
So it was with gratitude that he prepared to say goodbye to S. Davis and return to Ponderosa.
He didn’t have time.

A dozen armed men burst in, threatening the ranch hands with their weapons.
They were pushing a herd of horses in front of them, and Hoss’s trained eye could see that they were not wild horses.
Horse thieves!
The worst kind!
They knew they were taking a big risk and were ready for anything!

According to the Code of Honor of the West, horse thieves were hanged!
When people often lived many miles from towns, on farms or ranches, stealing their horses could mean death for those people!

Hoss realized they were in danger.
What were their intentions?
He shouted at the ranch hands not to resist and was the first to unbuckle his belt, letting it fall to the ground.

Among the men in the gang, one stood out. Tall, big, with a determined look.
Surely their leader.
Hoss turned to him, pretending not to know, not to understand.
“What do you want? Water? You can have it! We just finished digging a well. You can have water to drink for your horses! No need to shoot!”

The man laughed, tilting his head and looking at Hoss with curiosity.
“Are you the boss here? Is this ranch yours?”
Davis stepped forward decisively, intent on taking control of the situation.
“The ranch is mine. Hoss Cartwright was my guest. He helped me with the well. He was just on his way home. Come this way if you want water…”

“Cartwright of the Ponderosa? Near Virginia City?”
Hoss bit his lip, and Davis realized he had just made a fatal mistake…
Hoss understood that he had become a potential bargaining chip.
If things went badly for them, having a Cartwright in their hands could make all the difference.

The man barked orders, and his men drove the horses into the ranch corral, mixing them with Davis’s.
They locked the few ranch hands in the dormitory and brought Davis and Hoss into the house at gunpoint.
Then they called their boss, “Sam, we’re ready!”

Hoss remembered hearing about a certain Sam in the saloon, and among those men, he had recognized the tall, thin guy with straw-colored hair.
“…I hope Sam gets here soon with the other men, at least we can do what we have to do and get out of here!”
Hoss remembered his words exactly and wondered what the real intentions of the gang of thieves were.

One of the most likely things was that they intended to change the brand on the stolen horses.
It would then be easier to take them to their destination without being disturbed.
Pretending to be ranchers traveling with their herd.
Davis’s somewhat isolated ranch was the right place to do everything without expecting any nasty surprises.

CHAPTER 4

Present

Joe had left with four canteens full of fresh water and a spare horse so as not to tire Cochise too much. By alternating the two horses, he would be able to travel faster.
He didn’t mind getting tired; he would endure it, he just wanted to reach Hoss as soon as possible!
The sense of anguish from his nightmares had not left him. In his heart, he knew that Hoss needed help, and he wanted to reach him quickly.

He had ridden all day without stopping or eating, changing horses often, grinding out mile after mile, but when sunset came, he realized he had reached his limit.
He was completely exhausted; his contracted muscles begged for rest. If he didn’t stop, he would get saddle sores, he wouldn’t be able to ride anymore, and he couldn’t afford that.
Groaning, he dismounted. His legs almost gave way, but he recovered by clinging to the saddle pommel. He massaged his butt with a pained grimace, hissing air through his teeth… Damn, it hurt!

He took care of the two horses first, then lit a fire to make coffee.
He realized he was hungry and ate most of the provisions Hop Sing had prepared for him.
He was so tired that his eyes were closing.
He spread the blanket on the ground and relaxed with his back against the upturned saddle. It was still so hot that he didn’t feel the need to cover himself.

He looked up at the sky, and his gaze was swallowed up by the millions of stars shining there.
His thoughts flew home, he imagined Pa and Adam sitting at dinner, worried about him and Hoss, then he turned his mind to his brother as he fell asleep, “I’m coming, Hoss, hang in there, please wait for me!”

At the first light of dawn, he set off on the last part of his journey.
Half a day more, and he would reach his destination.
Joe was nervous, not knowing what to expect. He was sure that Hoss was in trouble, most likely in danger.
Something had happened; Hoss would not have failed to send word for so long, knowing that they were anxiously awaiting it at home.

There was a deep understanding between them, a bond that went beyond normal brotherhood, and it wasn’t the first time that one or the other had sensed danger that turned out to be real.
Joe had learned to listen to his feelings about his family, with a particular sensitivity toward Pa and Hoss.

He tried to come up with a plan, at least in broad terms, because he didn’t know what to expect at Davis’ ranch.
He didn’t want to get into trouble and become a burden instead of a help.
With these thoughts in mind, he finally arrived in the town not far from the ranch and stopped at the saloon for a cold beer and to hear any news.

His anxiety kept him alert, his senses sharp, ready to pick up on the slightest clue.
He ordered a steak and potatoes and sat down at a table in the middle of the room while he finished his beer.
A beautiful brunette, dressed in red, approached him, attracted by the handsome stranger.
She was a pleasant novelty in the usual routine of that sunny, hot town, bent by drought.

Joe was tired, dirty, and sweaty, and he wasn’t in the mood to entertain a young woman, but he realized she could be a source of news, so he smiled as only he knew how, and she gladly took the bait.
She brought him his lunch plate and a fresh beer, smiled at him, and sat down in the chair next to him.
“Hi, cowboy! What are you doing around here? I’ve never seen you before, I know, because I would remember!” She winked at him, but without vulgarity.

She was actually a very pretty young girl. Her face, beneath the heavy makeup, was fresh. Her eyes sparkled with pleasure and interest as she looked at Joe.
He smiled again, “I’m Joe, and I’m just passing through, and the first thing I’ll do after I eat is take a hot bath to clean myself up and feel human again! How hot is it here? How’s the drought? Where I come from, it’s a disaster!”

The girl held out her hand, “My name is Laura, I was born here, but we haven’t had heat like this in years! The drought is causing a lot of damage, people are nervous, water is scarce, and those with livestock are in big trouble. If it doesn’t rain soon, I don’t know how it will end!”

Joe’s attention was caught by a conversation between two men at the bar.

“A lot of horses have disappeared, sheriff! I heard from my brother Jeff that a gang of thieves stole horses in his area and then disappeared! Where could they have gone? If they come around here, we need to catch them and hang them!”

The sheriff turned his back to the bar, where he leaned, while his gaze wandered around the room and caught Joe’s.
“I heard that too. We’ll keep our eyes open. Horse thieves…” He spat out the tobacco he was chewing with contempt, then continued, “…the worst scum in the world! If they show up here, I swear I’ll hang them all!”

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and neck with a handkerchief that had seen better days.

He walked slowly toward Joe’s table, motioned to Laura, who stood up with an annoyed grimace and moved away from the table.
The sheriff looked at Joe as he stuffed a large piece of steak into his mouth and smiled at him,
“You must have been hungry, and I can see you’re enjoying it! Our Bill knows how to cook a steak; he’s the best cook in town! You’re new around here, cowboy. What brings you to this area?”

Joe looked at the sheriff and remained vague, “I’m just passing through, looking for work. I’m a great bronco buster, try me! I like to travel around this great land, and while I’m young, I want to travel and see as much as possible! Do you know if any ranches in the area could give me work for a while?”
The most innocent smile appeared on his face, and the sheriff was convinced that the man in front of him was a good guy.

“Well, Davis is the closest. I know he’s in trouble; the drought is bringing the ranchers to their knees. About two weeks ago, a big, tall guy passed through here. He was also headed to Davis, but I think he was more of a friend or acquaintance. He certainly didn’t have the physique of a bronco buster like you!” The sheriff laughed at his joke; Joe remained serious as his heart leapt in his chest.
Hoss!

“About fifteen days ago,” Joe reasoned quickly. Hoss had arrived, sent the telegram home, reached the ranch—or so Joe hoped—and then nothing!
It seemed clear that he hadn’t been seen in town since. Hoss must still be at the ranch.
Laura provided him with an involuntary answer when, looking thoughtful, she recalled that no one from the ranch had been seen in town recently…

Joe rose from the table, sated, said goodbye, and asked for a hot bath.
Too nervous to sleep, as soon as he had cleaned up, freshened up, and changed, Joe went back downstairs, ready to leave.
Laura silently admired the smooth, tanned chest visible under his unbuttoned shirt and smiled at him, “If you’re staying with Davis for a while, show yourself around town, cowboy!” and winked at him again.

Joe smiled at her, took her chin between his fingers, lifting her head and bringing it closer to his face. “Count on it!” he whispered, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.
She trembled, but the kiss she had almost expected did not come!

Joe stocked up on fresh water, nimbly jumped onto Cochise, and tipped his hat in greeting.
He turned his horses around and galloped toward the Davis ranch.

A day behind Joe, Ben and Adam had also left Ponderosa, but Ben was certainly unable to keep up with the fierce pace Joe had set, so their journey was slower.

CHAPTER 5

A few days earlier

The situation at the ranch was becoming tense.
Hoss was worried. They had seen the horse thieves’ faces, and he strongly doubted that the gang would let them go unharmed.
Furthermore, if they took their horses and those of the ranch, their lives would still be in danger.
They were quite far from the nearest town; on foot, and in that heat, it would be almost impossible to reach it!

Sam’s men had begun their work of counterfeiting the brands of the stolen horses.
The hot air echoed with the neighing of the poor animals; the smell of burnt hair added to the discomfort of those scorching days and lingered on their clothes.
Hoss and Davis were confined to the house; the ranch hands were forced to help the gang.

Hoss tried hard to find a solution, but there wasn’t really much he could do.

He thought of home and knew that everyone was worried about him, and he also knew that Joe would be the most anxious.
“Joe… little brother… I’m sorry…”

*****

Present

Joe had ridden fast. He was tense as a violin string.
When he reached the vicinity of the ranch, he stopped on a small hill, tied the horses to the trees a little further back, and crawled toward the ridge from which he could see the ranch below.

He could hear the shouts and screams of the men busy branding the horses.
In the corral, the animals whinnied in fear as they were taken out one by one, branded, and put back in the corral.
The dust kicked up by their hooves created a thick cloud in which the men coughed and cursed.

Joe could distinguish the ten men of the gang and their leader from the few ranch hands forced to work for the gang.
Hoss was nowhere to be seen, nor was Davis.
Joe thought frantically: Break in? Alone, he would be dead in five minutes!

The ten members of the gang were organized, tough, and accustomed to dangerous situations. These were people who always lived on the edge. Ready for anything.
Joe didn’t know if he could count on the few men on the ranch.
Their reaction against the gang was by no means a foregone conclusion.

He trusted all the men at Ponderosa; he knew he could count on them for anything. They were devoted, loyal men who loved their work on the ranch and respected the Cartwrights.
These men were strangers to him, and he didn’t know how they would react.

As he thought about all the possibilities and the chances of success, three men entered the stable and came out with the ranch’s personal horses, determined to take those too.
Joe gasped when he recognized Hoss’s big Morgan among the horses! Chub! No!

He didn’t have time to think about anything when a screaming fury ran out of the house.
The large body threw itself at the men holding his horse, punching and shoving, sending all three of them flying!
Hoss was furious!
He would not allow them to take Chub, and without thinking of the consequences, he gave Chub a hard slap on the rear and urged him to run, screaming like a madman!

Chub took off at full speed, leaving the ranch and galloping toward the nearby hill, where his sensitive nose soon recognized the familiar scent of his stablemate.
Joe didn’t move so as not to reveal his presence, but he didn’t need to. Chub had spontaneously gone to Cochise, neighing softly, snorting through his nostrils, and rubbing his muzzle against his neck.
He wasn’t going to move from there!

Joe turned his attention back to what was happening on the ranch below.
The men had gotten the better of Hoss and were holding him tightly between them. His nose was bleeding, and one eye was turning black, but his imposing size still commanded respect.

Sam, the boss, approached him, furious.
“What do you think you’ve done, you big idiot? Do you think we can’t catch him? Or that he won’t come back to the ranch on his own as soon as he gets hungry? You’ve only postponed the inevitable and made me angry! Very angry!
Do you think being a Cartwright will help you? Will it spare you the lesson I’m going to teach you?”
Then, turning to his men, he ordered them to take Hoss to the barn and tie him up securely.
At the end of the branding, he would make him regret being born!

Joe breathed a sigh of relief that Hoss was safe and sound, for the moment, and then quickly calculated how much time he had to intervene.
He decided to rush back to town, alert the sheriff, and return with more men
to capture the band of thieves and rescue Hoss.
He knew his brother was strong and could take a beating.
Even if they started beating him, Hoss would hold out for a long time, and he would be back before they could really hurt him!

CHAPTER 6

The one who galloped into town, shouting, “Sheriff! Sheriff, quick!” was a frantic and panting Joe.
Behind him galloped his spare horse and a large black horse with a lasso around its neck.
It didn’t take Joe long to explain what was happening at the Davis ranch, reveal who he really was, and lay out his plan.

The sheriff was a man of action, quick-witted and quick on his feet.
In no time at all, he had organized a team of about twenty armed men to go and capture the band of horse thieves.
Joe had left his spare horse in the stable, taken Cochise, and put a halter and long bridle on Chub to take him with him.
He knew that Hoss’ saddle was in the ranch stable, where he could retrieve it.

As they left town and headed back to the ranch, the sky suddenly began to darken, and they heard thunder rumbling in the distance.
Perhaps the drought was coming to an end!
But it was a real storm that caught them near the ranch with furious rain and violent gusts of wind.

The sky was pitch black, streaked with sudden lightning, and the rumblings of thunder shook them to their core.
They gritted their teeth, determined to keep going, soaked to the bone, risking slipping off their wet saddles, struggling to control their horses, but taking advantage of the bad weather to get as close as possible.

Chaos reigned at the ranch.
The horses—terrified by thunder and lightning—kicked like mad in the corral.
Their instinct told them to run away, to flee, but they were crammed into that corral shoulder to shoulder, and the most nervous ones were infecting everyone else with their fear.
The men tried to keep them calm, but the storm raging above their heads made things difficult and dangerous.

Under the pouring rain, the dust from weeks of drought had quickly turned into sticky mud that splattered everywhere.
The ground in front of the house and in the corral was now reduced to a dark, slippery sludge.
The men were covered in it from head to toe, and the horses, dancing on their hooves and kicking in terror, were sending it flying everywhere.

There were countless screams and curses, and the men had also become nervous, insulting and pushing each other, slipping, falling in the mud, and getting up furiously to fight.
Sam came out of the barn yelling at his men to stop immediately and instead take care of the frightened horses.

Through the half-open door, Hoss could be seen tied to a ceiling beam, his arms painfully stretched upward, his face swollen and bleeding from the blows he had received, but still alert and not submissive.

The sheriff and his men attacked suddenly, firing shots into the air and shouting for them to surrender.
After an initial moment of surprise and confusion, the thieves reacted and tried to reach some rifles left near the fence.
They weren’t going to be caught easily!

The men had taken their guns off their hips while branding the horses,
a dirty and smelly job, and hung them near the barn where they could stay clean and safe.
Then the rain had distracted them, and the mud had overwhelmed them.

Joe knew he couldn’t shoot unarmed men, even if they were thieves liable to hanging, so he threw himself into the fray, fighting furiously against men who now had nothing to lose, dangerous, cruel men for whom human life had no value, until he managed to stop them, hold them at gunpoint, and hand them over to the sheriff and his men.

He was covered in mud, panting, soaking wet, exhausted, battered, and very, very angry, but above all, he was impatient to find Hoss.
As the battle drew to a close—and the thieves were captured, one by one—a flash of lightning lit up the battlefield, the corral full of terrified horses, the barn, and Joe finally saw what he was looking for.

With a scream, he rushed inside and ran toward his brother, hanging there, his eyes closed and breathing heavily.
“Hoss, Hoss!! How are you? How do you feel? Oh, Lord, I’ll free you right now! Wait, Hoss!”
He took his knife from his boot and reached out to cut the rope holding his brother.

Hoss’s arms fell to his sides, and the big man slumped to the ground.
Joe tried to hold him up, but fell with him.
The adrenaline still flowing through his veins made him jump to his feet, grab Hoss under the armpits, and drag him to a spot covered with clean, fragrant straw.

Hoss opened his eyes, or rather, he opened one eye because the other was black and closed. He smiled at Joe, who was watching him attentively and worriedly, shivering with cold and tension.
He raised a hand in greeting and croaked,
“Hello, little brother, I knew you would come…”

Joe bent over, panting heavily, his head spinning, feeling the adrenaline rush leave him and leave him weak and trembling.
He slid to his knees next to Hoss, closed his eyes, and perhaps lost consciousness for a moment, because immediately afterwards he found himself lying next to his brother, unable to move a single muscle.

CHAPTER 7

The sheriff found them like that, side by side, both battered and exhausted, Joe’s face beginning to look like a mask of hardened mud.

Yet a slight smile lingered on the lips of the two brothers!
He checked on their condition and helped them to their feet with the assistance of Davis, who had rushed over after being freed from the room where he had been locked up.

Outside, the storm had passed, and now it was raining normally.
A slow, gentle rain that would deeply irrigate the drought-stricken land.

Joe refused to enter the house covered in mud and asked for buckets of water to clean himself up behind the house, and a blanket to wear while his clothes were washed and hung out to dry.
Hop Sing’s Chinese curses at the Ponderosa in similar circumstances rang in his ears, and as he poured the first bucket of water over his head, he began to laugh almost hysterically.
He was so tired that he could have fallen asleep on the spot!

The sheriff and his men had returned to town in the rain, but they were happy with how things had turned out.

With them were the thieves, who had been tied up and rendered helpless. None of them would escape their just punishment.
There would be a fair trial, the outcome of which was not a foregone conclusion.
Would the thieves be sentenced to hang or sent to prison for many years?

That would be decided by a jury and the federal judge who would preside over the trial.
The stolen horses would be returned to their owners. Until then, they would live at the Davis ranch, which would receive financial assistance to maintain them.

Hoss had been put to bed, his cuts and bruises medicated, his ribs bandaged after being beaten.
He had fallen asleep before Joe had even finished washing and entered the house, wrapped in a blanket.
Davis checked and treated him, too.
He offered him a hot meal, but Joe was so exhausted that he preferred to go straight to sleep in the same room as Hoss, where there were two beds.

He was exhausted from the long journey, from the furious, non-stop rides, which had left their mark on his body; and even from the hard work he had imposed on himself at Ponderosa, from the lack of sleep and nightmares, from the anxiety about Hoss that had consumed him, from having fought long and hard with dangerous bandits who were ready for anything.

He slipped naked under the covers, feeling his whole body ache with every movement.

He hissed through his teeth in pain.
He groaned, loudly voice, and heard Hoss’s voice calling him,
“Joe! Are you hurt?”
“Yes, damn it! It really hurts!”
“Your head?”
“My butt!”
He heard Hoss chuckle, but a minute later, he was asleep.

Rain had fallen for two days and brought relief from the scorching heat.
The earth had drunk the water and had already begun to yield tender, bright green grass.
The pastures were greening up, and soon the animals would have enough food.
The drought was over.

CHAPTER 8

On the morning of the second day, Ben and Adam had reached the small town closest to the Davis ranch.
As soon as they arrived and introduced themselves, they heard about the capture of the horse thieves, and the sheriff proudly told them the whole story.
In detail.

Hoss was alive, battered, but he would be fine.
Joe had become the local hero.
He was a little battered, too, but he was fine.

It was the talk of the small town! Without Joe, they would never have known about the thieves at the ranch, and who knows how it would have ended.
Davis definitely owed him his life!

Over a few cold beers, sitting at a table in the saloon, the sheriff told Ben and Adam:
About the drought that was killing the town.
Joe’s arrival as a stranger, a cowboy passing through.
The horse thieves are hiding at the Davis ranch.
Joe’s long, breathless ride to warn the sheriff, organize the capture, and return to save Hoss.
The terrible storm.
The tough fight, the mud, the rain, the difficult capture of all the thieves.
The successful rescue of Hoss and Davis.

Ben and Adam listened to the story with bated breath, along with all the saloon patrons who had heard it countless times before but never tired of it, and a young, pretty brunette, dressed in red, whose eyes sparkled when she heard Joe’s name.

Later, the two Cartwrights reached Davis’ ranch and were eager to meet Hoss and Joe.
Davis came to meet them with a broad smile on his face.
He and Ben embraced, and Davis expressed his gratitude for the valuable help he had received from his sons!
He owed Hoss the salvation of his ranch for digging the well.
He owed Joe his life.

Hoss appeared at the door.
His black eye was beginning to fade, but it was still swollen and half-closed.
He walked slowly, protecting his bandaged ribs, but his big, toothless smile was bright and cheerful.
He greeted his father and older brother cheerfully, then said that Joe was still sleeping and that he was convinced his little brother could sleep for weeks!

While Hoss and Davis chatted with Adam and took him to see the new well, Ben quietly entered the room where Joe was sleeping.

He knew everything Joe had to deal with, physically and mentally, and smiled as he watched him sleep soundly, lying face down on the bed, his bare shoulders exposed.
He saw the marks of the blows and the bruises on the visible part of his face and back.
Wanting to see those bruises better, he gently pulled back the covers and uncovered Joe’s naked body.
What he saw made him frown.

He carefully covered his son, sat on the edge of the bed, and called him softly,
“Joseph… Joe, wake up, son, it’s Pa, it’s me…”
He placed a hand on his son’s back and massaged it gently in relaxing concentric circles.

Joe moved his arm and brought it above his head, mumbled something, and moaned as he tried to wake up,
“Hmmmmmmm…Pa…?”
“I’m here, Joe. Open your eyes. How are you feeling? The truth, Joseph!”
The young man shook himself and turned over in bed with a grimace that he didn’t even try to hide. The bruises on his face were now fully visible.
“I’m fine, Pa… except… except back there, you know… my butt, I mean! I think I rode too hard for too long and… it hurts! I don’t have saddle sores, but I think I came close!”

Ben smiled, touched a bruise on his cheekbone, and joked, “We’ll have to get you a soft cushion to get you back in the saddle. What do you say? You’re all bruised down there!”

Joe barely smiled, “Pa, don’t joke around, just the thought of sitting in the saddle makes me feel sick!”

Ben assessed Hoss and Joe’s condition, thinking about the long ride that separated them from home.
He also spoke to Adam about it, discreetly telling him about Joe’s condition and how physically demanding the long, hard journey had been for him.
Hoss, too, was unable to ride for long with his cracked ribs, so they decided to proceed in stages.

Davis was happy to lend them a wagon, which was fitted with a mattress on the floor so that Hoss and Joe could both lie down.
They would return to town in the wagon and take rooms at a hotel.

Ben and Adam would leave for the Ponderosa and leave Hoss and Joe in town, entrusted to the local doctor, who would get them ready to travel home using appropriate medicines and ointments.
Ben thought it would take at least a week.

They arrived in town in the evening with the wagon, without meeting anyone, and immediately went up to their rooms.
Joe had been adamant: he didn’t want anyone to know why he couldn’t ride!
Adam had smiled, admitting that his heroic aura would be irreparably tarnished.

Joking aside, Adam was aware of the discomfort and pain Joe had to endure. He was proud of his brother, of his courage, his stubborn determination, his endurance, and his ability to sacrifice himself for the greater good.
He had been right from the start.
He had listened to his emotions and feelings.
He had saved Hoss.

EPILOGUE

The town had rallied around Hoss and Joe Cartwright.
Their sleepy routine had been disrupted, and for a town where nothing ever happened, they had had quite a few thrills in the last few days!

The sheriff was holding the gang of horse thieves under lock and key, awaiting trial.
The whole town knew what had happened at Davis’ ranch.
Many had seen Joe galloping up, shouting for the sheriff. They had heard him say who he was, what was happening at the ranch, and why he was there.

The sheriff himself and his men had witnessed what had happened.
Davis would tell his side of the story.
Joe and Hoss had written a report about their involvement in the story, so their presence at the trial was not necessary. They could leave as soon as they were able.

Rest and medical care were paying off.
Both brothers were feeling better.
Their bruises were fading, and Hoss’s ribs were healing.
Joe could walk with a more relaxed and springy step, and he could finally sit down without feeling any pain…which was a great help when Laura curled up on his lap in the saloon!

By the end of the week, they were ready to go home.
They had said their goodbyes, thanked everyone, and given out hugs and handshakes.
They had made friends in this town that had practically adopted them.

They retrieved Chub, Cochise, and Joe’s spare horse from the stable.
They walked to the saloon to pick up supplies for the long journey home.
They had said their final goodbyes and given their last pats on the back.
Nothing was holding them back anymore.

Hoss walked ahead carrying the supplies.
Laura accompanied Joe outside, holding his hand.
She tried to smile, but her eyes were sad. Joe had gotten under her skin, and it hurt to see him go.

Joe smiled at her, took her chin between his fingers, lifted her head, and brought it closer to his face. “Thanks for… everything,” he whispered, his green eyes sparkling mischievously.
Laura had a feeling of déjà vu!
But this time Joe’s lips bent over hers, and he kissed her.
A long goodbye.

Hoss coughed a little awkwardly, waved goodbye to the girl, and set Chub and the spare horse in motion.
Joe jumped onto Cochise, touched the brim of his hat, and smiled at Laura as only he knew how.

He spurred his horse and caught up with Hoss.
Together they rode home, side by side, as they always had in life.

The End.

by littlejoefan

Ben’s Story

Chapter One

“Desperate straits. Can you spare a son immediately? Forever grateful.

S. Davis”

I scrunched the paper in my hand. Saul Davis! It must be more than twenty years since we had anything to do with each other and we did not part on friendly terms. And now he had the nerve to ask me for help! I was not inclined to indulge him.

As I rode home it all came back to me, the violence, the pain. We were both younger then, of course, and Marie was so beautiful. But she was my wife, not his. 

He thought himself in love with her. She rejected him way before she accepted my proposal, but he never lost hope. He challenged me to a duel but I had only just fought one and merely laughed at him. He never forgot the insult. He even slapped me with a glove which simply led to a fist fight. I was tired. Moreover I was in love and wanted to take my new wife home. He followed us all the way from New Orleans and I was astonished to see him in Virginia City. 

He was determined to have his way. He dogged me and persisted in aggravating me. I still refused to fight him. To my dismay he bought a piece of land nearby and started to build a house. He was determined to cause as much trouble for me as he possibly could. As Marie was expecting a baby, I was needed at home now more than ever.

First of all it was missing cattle. Then he lured some of my best workers away with promises of higher wages. He even tried to take Hop Sing! I’m proud to say my old friend rejected him in no uncertain terms, despite his sweet words. 

When he tried to burn my hay stacks it was the last straw. We had another terrible fight which wound up with a busted jaw for me and a broken arm for him. Saul’s jealousy and hatred knew no bounds.

This was over twenty years ago. After that last battle with him he sulkily accepted the situation. But here he was, asking for help, from me, of all people! I could not help laughing at his bare-faced cheek. I resolved to talk it over with my sons that very evening and get it sorted out the next day.

*

Joe’s Story

Chapter Two

He leant back and I glanced at Hoss.

“Well, I say no, Pa. He gave you and Ma a lot of grief. Let him fend for himself.”

“Aren’t you intrigued, though, even a little bit?”

Pa laughed. “To be honest, Joe, I am a bit.”

“You’ll see him in the morning, Pa?”

“I’ll go over there first thing.”

So I had to wait. It fascinated me about this stranger who had been in love with my beautiful mother, had wanted to fight my father in a duel, and had engaged in such dirty tactics. A fight that had ended in a busted jaw and a broken arm! I could not help but laugh. And he had been telling me from early childhood to control my temper and not to fight!

*

I had started out early but was still on the Ponderosa even though it was nearing nine o’clock by my pocket watch. I sometimes forgot just how big the ranch was. And how beautiful. I had left the pastoral lands behind me and was looking out onto a field of corn. Come fall we would have to harvest it for fodder. The sweet smell assaulted my nostrils and I paused, taking in the attractive scene before me as the green plants waved in the breeze. After another half-hour I came to the woods which marked the boundary of our ranch and the beginning of open land.

I knew my journey was almost over.  I cantered through the arid, rocky terrain until I saw Mr Davis’s fields in the distance.

He was not doing well for himself. I skirted his arable lands and was shocked at the neglect. Even from a distance i could see that many of the plants were stunted and blighted by disease. Others rotted where they stood, the weeds high in the field. His cattle were thin and lifeless and as i eventually drew up at the house I saw that it was in such a state of dilapidation it was almost falling down. 

I dismounted Cochise, tied him to the rail and knocked on the door. After a few moments it opened a crack and I saw the end of a double-barreled shotgun pointing straight at me.

“What do you want? Who are you?”

“Mr Davis?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Joe. Joseph Cartwright.”

There was a pause. “Ben Cartwright’s boy?”

“That’s right.”

The gun lowered, the door opened fully. Saul Davis was as slovenly as everything else. Unwashed, unshaven, with stains down his clothes, he stood in front of me, a small, seemingly quarrelsome man.

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“You didn’t give me much of a chance, sir!”

“Hm, so I didn’t. Well, come in, come in, don’t just stand there!”

He settled me down in his filthy parlor and insisted on fetching some coffee although i demurred.

“Nonsense, boy! You’ve come a long way.”

“I have. Do you know it took me almost four hours to get here?”

“Hmph. Considering you own half of Nevada, it’s not surprising!”

He was determined to be disagreeable. I held my tongue and heard him crashing about with cups and saucers in the small kitchen off to one side. I was expecting the drink to be as disgusting as everything else here but I was pleasantly surprised. I sipped, then sipped again, then finally drained the cup.

He saw the look on my face and smiled for the first time. “The one thing I do know how to do, boy, is make coffee. Another?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

After I had drunk my fill, he sat back. I could barely make him out in the semi-darkness for the curtains were closed and the windows so filthy they barely let any light in.

“Well, I’m surprised you’re here.”

“Why, sir?”

“Your father didn’t tell you anything of our past?”

“He told me a bit.”

“Ah. You know, then, why I’m surprised.”

“I suppose so.”

“Your father and I have a…history.”

“I know. About my mother.”

“Marie DeMarigny was your mother.”

“Yes, sir. Marie Cartwright.”

He seemed stupefied. “She was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen in my life. I loved her so much. But then she went off with that…that…your father.”

“Why did you come to us for help, Mr Davis?”

He was silent for a long time. “As you can see,  Joe, I have not done well here. There was not enough work and too much of the bottle. I have to be honest. I know no-one, or at least I have no friends even though I’ve lived here for over twenty years. At least your father knows me. He probably hates me, but at least he knows me.”

“I think the hate died a long time ago, Mr Davis.”

“If he pities me, that’s worse.”

“It’s the curiosity more than anything. Why did you reach out to us after all this time?”

“Because he’s the only honest man I know, damn him! There, I said it! I hated him but I always knew he was honest. He was a man of his word.” He started to laugh and I joined in. “He said he’d beat me to a pulp and he did!”

“From what he told me, you beat each other to a pulp. You busted his jaw.”

“And he broke my arm.”

“It was a fair deal.”

“I did everything I could to provoke him. Any other fellow would have killed me. And because he was so good, it made me worse. I stopped because I was tired. I knew I would never win her heart. When I heard she died it almost broke mine.”

I lowered my head. “Pa’s too.”

“Yes, your Pa’s too…I, too, have no hate left. Perhaps I should have reached out before.”

“Yes, perhaps you should.”

“But I didn’t think he could forgive me, you see.”

“Pa doesn’t hold grudges. Nor would he turn anyone away that needed help. Besides, as I say, he’s curious.”

He leant back and settled down to tell me his story.

*

“I kept up with your father. His successes, his triumphs. He became the richest man in Nevada. And there was me, not forty miles away, struggling to make ends meet. For a long time, my hate deepened. But that all changed when your mother died. Something died in me as well. I suffered. It was years before I could admit how much your father must have suffered too. He already had two sons and then he had you. I knew you all grew up to be fine, upstanding men.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I hated him even more.” He paused. “But hate destroys. It hurts the hater far more than the hated. Through suffering I learned to accept.”

“And you, Mr Davis?”

“I got most of my solace through this.” He reached out to the dresser by his chair and picked up a half-empty bottle of whiskey. “Never start, Joe. It’s a hard lover.”

“I won’t, sir.”

“I met someone, thought I had better settle down and marry. I never loved her, not like I loved your mother.  We had a son. Joshua, his name is. I love him so much. But he grew up in chaos, and just as you three grew up straight and true, he…well, he didn’t.”

“What happened?”

“We fell out. It was when his mother died. He blamed me. He was only fifteen and he screamed at me that it was all my fault. I’m afraid I…hit him.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Five years. I haven’t seen him since. Of course I’ve heard about him. Unfortunately he followed my example. Started drinking, whoring, up to no good. I knew he didn’t have a decent job but I didn’t know where he was getting his money from. Now I do. Now he’s gone off.”

“And you want me to find him?” He inclined his head. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Neither do I.”

“And what do I tell him if I do find him? I can’t make him come back.”

“Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I…love him. If he can forgive me, I want him to come home. Please try, Joe. I beg you.”

They used to tell Hoss he was the patron saint of lost causes but sometimes I thought I should have that moniker. The man’s misery enveloped me. 

“He left you because you drank. You’re still drinking.”

“I know.”

“You know he won’t come back. Or at least he won’t stay if you’re still doing it.”

“I want to stop.”

“That’s a start.”

“But I don’t know how.”

“One step at a time. With help maybe you’ll have a chance.”

*

Mr Davis showed me the telegram, dating from a week back.

“Josh gone. Joined up with Paulson gang. Sheriff following.

Gloria.”

“Gloria?”

“His woman. When I got this telegram I wept. I’ve failed him completely.”

“Do you know her? Where she is?”

“She’s a saloon girl over at Lake’s Crossing.”

“I’ll find her.”

“Thank you, Joe. You out of anyone owe me no favors.”

I laughed. “That’s me. Patron saint of lost causes.”

I nudged him so he would know I was joking and to give the man his due, he laughed.

*

I started early the next morning, making my way directly north to my destination. By midday I could see the little settlement in front of me. Not so little any more – it was growing fast. Railway tracks had already been laid, I could see the depot, newly built. There was a grist mill, hotel, livery stables, a couple of saloons, even a sheriff’s office and jail. I was pretty impressed, it really had mushroomed since I was last here. I dismounted outside one of the saloons. Despite the early hour it was already under full swing. A tinny piano was playing, a swell of voices, and when I entered a gale of alcohol and cigar smoke assaulted my nostrils.

“Beer, please.”

“Coming right up.”

“Looking for a girl.”

“You’ve come to the right place, mister!” The barkeep nodded to the interior of the room where a few women in revealing sequined dresses were nonchalantly doing the rounds.

“A particular woman. Gloria.”

“Gloria Taylor?”

“I don’t know her surname.”

“She don’t work here no more. We had to let her go. Little problem, you know…” He touched his stomach and then moved his hand out a few inches.

The girl was going to have a baby. This was worse than I thought.

“Where does she live?”

”We don’t follow up on our staff once they’ve been dismissed.”

His attitude was dampened by my level stare.

“Really,” I responded coolly.

“Really. Ask across the street. They might know. She went to work over there after us until it got too obvious to ignore.”

I finished my drink and crossed the dirt track. The saloon was quieter although I could see a few miners in the corner playing cards.

“I’m looking for Gloria Taylor.”

“Don’t work here no more.”

I was getting tired of it. “I know that. I want to know where I can find her.”

“What do you want with her?”

“That’s none of your business. Just tell me where I can find her, would you?”

“Alright, mister, keep your shirt on. She hooked up with a fella called Davis.”

“Josh Davis?”

“That’s right. Know him?”

“By name.”

“Davis is no good. Leading her a merry dance, he is. There she is, ready to pop and he goes off. Dean Paulson, if you please, of all people. I suppose you know him too?”

“Heard of him.”

“You’re in luck. The sheriff’s going to call a posse. There was a stage robbery yesterday, a man was shot.”

“Dead?”

“Injured. Let’s hope he lives for their sakes. It could mean the difference between jail and the rope.” The man leaned forward on the counter and poured a whiskey.

“I didn’t ask for a drink.”

“On the house.”

His face was so genuine I gave a smile. “Do you make a habit of handing out free whiskey?”

“Not usually. Truth is, I feel a bit sorry for her. She was a good worker but I couldn’t keep her on, you understand. She’s staying over at the hotel for now. I don’t know what she’s going to do. In her condition, her man running from the law. Anyway, the sheriff’ll be out shortly so if you want to see him you ain’t got much time.”

“I need to see Gloria first. Thanks.”

*

She was older than I had expected. She stood in front of me in a demure gray dress, a cape drawn over her extended figure. She blushed as she saw me and I found her shy manner appealing. She did not go on like a saloon girl.

“Yes?”

“I’m here about…Josh.”

“Are you a friend of his?”

“Not exactly. I’m a friend of his father’s.”

“That no-good – “ She caught herself. “I’m sorry. Josh didn’t have anything very good to say about his father.”

“And yet you contacted him.”

“Well, yes. I thought he had the right to know.” She sighed and gestured me in before sinking onto the bed wearily. “I’m tired, Mr…?”

“Cartwright. Joe Cartwright.”

“Mr Cartwright. I’m so – “

“Just call me Joe.”

“Joe. I’m so bone weary I can’t tell you. Josh has done it now. Someone was shot last night and now he’ll have a price on his head…He said…he said to me that he was going on one last job and then he’d go straight. We’d have enough money to move away, we could get married, I could have the baby in peace and happy ever after.”

“And you believed him?”

“Deep down? Not really. But you see, I wanted to believe him because I love him. He keeps telling me he’s going to change his ways. No more drinking, no more women, no more crime. And I always believe him. I’m an idiot, huh, Joe?” She gave a bitter laugh.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is. It’s my fault for believing him.” She put her head in her hands and gave a shudder. “Oh, what am I going to do? If that man dies he could hang.”

“He’s not dead yet,” I said firmly. “Josh’s father sent me to find him.  He has a message for him. He says he’s sorry. He loves him and won’t he please come home.”

“Too little, too late. Josh was always going on about his father, about how worthless he was, how he never loved him. The trouble is, he wants his love. Badly. It’s just he never felt it. It’s why I contacted him because he had the right to know.”

“The only way I can find him is to go with the posse. I may be able to stop him from getting hurt. I want to talk to him, tell him about his father. He’s in a bad way, Gloria, and he needs help. It sounds as if Josh does, too. And you.”

“The best Josh can hope for is jail.”

“Better that than a bullet or a rope, surely. If I can get him to give himself up it would go better for him.”

“The Sheriff’s due back shortly.” She went over to the window and looked out. “Look,” she said, showing me a group of men hanging around the jailhouse, “the vultures are already there.”

“Where’s he gone?”

“He went out to see the driver of the stage. He’s the one who got shot. Ah, here he comes.”

I quickly said good-bye to her. 

“Joe?” she said, taking my wrist as I turned to go. “Please…tell him to give himself up. Tell him I love him and need him. Please don’t let him get himself killed.”

I touched the tears on her cheeks. “I’ll try,” I whispered.

I looked up to her window as I hurried across the street and saw her forlorn face behind the drapes. I felt quite sorry for her and decided then I would help her whatever happened. Pa was right. I was the patron saint of lost causes. And I was a sucker for a woman’s face, pretty or otherwise, when she was in distress. 

Chapter Three

I sighed, drinking copious amounts of liquid from my canteen and wearily dismounted. We had been searching for seven hours and tracked them down to a disused trading post on the California Trail. After yelled interjections back and forth, it was obvious they were not going to come out.

We had surrounded the building. The sheriff, four others and I were ensconced behind the tree-line opposite.

“No-one leaves,” said the Sheriff. “They have got to come out sometime, if only to use the well.”

“We can’t just wait them out,” I said. “It could take forever.”

The sun was already setting to the west, lowering behind the mountains. The air was cooling and it would soon be dark. I could smell the pine from the woods and shivered, although not with cold. We decided to form a plan. We would enter into a parley with the robbers while a man would approach from the back and try to gain access. Before anyone could interject, I quickly volunteered. The sheriff and two others would approach via the front, helped by the darkness and bushes. We would wait an hour and pray for clouds to cover the moon.

I rode out in a large circle around the outpost so they would not see me and met up with the men around the back to tell them of the plan.

“Alright, we’ll watch you,” said one grizzled old-timer. “If we see any movements we’ll start shootin’!”

His friend laughed and whacked him on the back. “You like the action, don’t you?”

“They’re outlaws. May as well have them dead as alive.”

“Yeah, well, be careful,” I said. “It’s me out there and I don’t want to be shot in the back by one of my so-called friends. Even if you hear gunshots from the other side, do not start shooting until they start coming your way and I’ve well and truly ducked!”

I could hear the shouts around the other side and knew the sheriff would be making his move. There was about fifty yards of open space between our lookout and the building. I stooped and started running at an even pace. I saw the door in the white stucco wall and I waited behind it, my heart hammering in my chest.

“You’ve got no chance! If you come out, no-one’ll get hurt!”

“Who are you kidding? The man’s dead. The only thing you want is to see us swinging on the end of a rope!”

“He’s not dead! I saw him earlier. He’s very much alive!”

“You say!”

“It’s true!”

I heard movements inside and my hand crept to the handle. I started to push and found myself in a little passage behind the main room. At least I had the element of surprise. I hastily viewed the whole room.

“Hands up!” I cried. There were two men by the window with rifles, their weapons too large and unwieldy to use quickly. A third was peeking around the open front door.  A fourth was crouched by the shadows of the wall. “DON’T!! Don’t make me use this!”

“Dean! It’s a trick!”

The man by the door crouched and aimed, then shrieked as my bullet pierced his hand. The revolver fell from his nerveless fingers.

“Drop ‘em! All of you!” I raised my voice to a yell. “It’s Joe! Hurry! You’re all covered!”

The man in the shadows threw out his gun while the two others placed the rifles on the floor.

“We’re done for!” the bleeding man gasped, rolling in pain.

“No-one’s done for. They were telling the truth. The man’s alive. You’re going down for robbery, not murder.”

The men came in the front and tied up the prisoners and I gestured to my companions still behind the hut.

*

“Which one of you is Josh Davis?”

“Who wants to know?”  The man, who was obviously Paulson, already had his hand wrapped in a handkerchief and his wrists bound lightly in front of him. 

“Are you Josh?”

“Like I said, who wants to know?”

“My name’s Joe Cartwright. I have a message from Josh’s father.”

There was a pause.

“My father?” 

The question was a whimper. The young man by the wall leaned forward. He was gaunt, unshaven and in the candlelight I swore I could see a greenish tint to his skin. He was younger than me but he looked older. His eyes had a haunted, harried look.

“Yes, your father. He’s not doing well, Josh.”

Josh gave a bitter laugh. “Well, tell me something I don’t know!”

“Sheriff, I really need to speak to him. Could you take the others? We’ll follow in a minute.”

“OK, Joe,” the Sheriff said, patting me on the back. “You did well back there, fella. You were very brave.”

“Thanks.” I waited until they had gone and sat Josh at the table, taking a chair next to him.

“Listen, Josh. I’m not gonna lie to you. I don’t know you but you have heard of me, haven’t you? At least, my family.”

He shrugged. “Sure I have. Who hasn’t? The high and mighty Cartwrights who own most of Nevada.”

“There’s history between my father and yours. I won’t bore you with it, maybe you already know. Your father gave me a message.”

“Yeah? I’m waiting.”

“He loves you. He’s sorry and he begs you to forgive him.”

“Is he still drinking?”

“No more than you, I shouldn’t think.” I viewed the whiskey bottles on the table, having already noticed the alcohol on his breath.

“Touché!”

“Josh, I don’t know what’s gone on between your father and you. But he reached out to my father, a man he counted as an enemy for many years. And you know why?  Despite the anger, despite the hatred, he trusted Pa. Called him an honest man. And also…your Pa is begging you to come home.”

For a moment I thought I had hit the mark. Josh gave a deep groan and looked down. “It’s too late, Cartwright. You’re right, you don’t know the half of it.”

“And then there’s Gloria.”

His head snapped up. “Gloria?! What about her?”

“I talked to her.”

“Is she alright?”

“Yes. For now. But she had a message for you too.”

“Which is?”

“She told me to tell you that she loves you and needs you. She begged me to try and get you to give yourself up.” I gestured to the rope around his wrists. “Not that that matters any more. All that mattered to her was that you didn’t get yourself killed. She’s a nice girl, Josh. She and the baby need you more than anything.”

Another groan. “How can I help her? I’m no good, Cartwright. She should get someone better than me.”

“It’s you she loves, Josh. You’ll have to serve time, of course. I dunno, five years? We can help. We can make sure Gloria and your father are alright. But Gloria needs you.”

“You’d…you’d really help us?”

“Sure.”

“But why?”

“Because you need it.”

“I don’t see why you should care, out of all people. Seeing how our fathers feel about each other.”

“That’s our fathers, Josh, that’s not us.  Will you? Will you go back to Gloria? Your father? They both need you so much.”

He did not answer but as I took him out to his horse, he smiled at me and nodded his head.

*The End*

by smp4ever

Chapter One

Dumb calf, stupid mud, and moronic me. I guess I’m as foolish as that little heifer who got stuck in the bog.  Drooping eyelids and a pounding headache aided my carelessness. I shouldn’t have stayed at the Silver Dollar for that one more drink and poker game. I’ve been doing that quite a bit lately. So here I am, half dead, shirtless, trying to reach the calf. It’s no surprise that I slipped. Next thing I knew, I was eyeball to eyeball with the animal. After pushing, pulling, and cursing, we both made it out of the bog.  The calf ran toward the herd. I emerged looking like a giant mud pie. With the hot sun beating down, my mud-caked skin felt like it was wrapped in scorching burlap. The pungent smell of the mud and the hot sun were making my stomach churn.  

Pa had said to be on time for supper. He had invited the new banker and his wife to join us. My father was a wise man. He knew how important it was to be on the favorable side of the man who granted loans. 

Sometimes, things happen beyond our control. I was sent out to round up strays today. How was I to know I’d wind up in the muddy bog? I couldn’t go home looking like a mud monster, so I stripped down and jumped into the lake. It took forever to get the mud out of every orifice and out of my hair. Next, were the pants. I felt like the Indian squaws washing clothes in the rivers and lakes. My trousers were now mud free. I was so glad I had removed my shirt before the mud bath! As my pants lay on a rock drying, I closed my eyes to try to improve my mood and restore my alertness. I didn’t intend to fall asleep. It was just to be a short nap. Now the sun’s position told me it was almost suppertime. I grabbed my pants, hoisted them up, and hurled myself onto Cochise who sensed my urgency. As the ranch came into sight, so did the buggy!

Damn, they’re here!

I hitched Cooch to the post and darted to the front door. Taking a deep breath and mustering my best smile, I stepped inside. 

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Welcome to the Ponderosa. I apologize for being late. A calf and I had an unexpected encounter. I’ll be down as soon as I change into dinner attire. Please proceed with supper.”

Pa gave me a menacing look, Hoss smirked, and the Potters smiled politely.  I excused myself, changed, and was seated at the table just as the meat was being passed around. I missed the appetizers, but I didn’t mind.  As always, Hop Sing outdid himself.

The late night, hangover effects, my adventure with the calf, and the humdrum voice of Mrs. Potter came together like a perfect storm. I guess I fell asleep just as the gravy boat was passed to me. In my hypnagogic state, I thought I heard a booming voice yell, “Joseph!”  That caused the gravy to sail into the air and land on the bosomy Mrs. Potter. She jumped and pulled the tablecloth with her as she toppled off her chair and onto the floor. Covered in tonight’s dinner and dishes, all she could do was moan,  “Oh, oh, oh” which came out of her mouth like a repetitious chant. “I’m so sorry” kept getting churned like butter out of my mouth as I ran to pick up Mrs. Potter. The buxom, overweight lady was dead weight. As I attempted to hoist her up, I went back down with her. Hoss and Pa flew to either side and lifted the mortified woman off me. Nobody seemed to care that I got crushed. Mr. Potter never moved. His expression never changed. He finally came out of his stupor, gathered his crying wife, and rushed out the door. Pa chased after them.

By the look on Pa’s face when he came back inside, I figured his apology fell upon deaf ears. I dared not ask or even open my mouth. Everyone was furious with me: Hop Sing, because I ruined his delicious dinner; Hoss, because his stomach wasn’t satisfied; and Pa, because of the catastrophe I caused.  Was it my imagination or was smoke coming out of the nostrils and ears of all three of them?

Pa called me into his office.  He narrowed his eyes and spoke in a deadly low voice. The twisted and distorted face, within inches of mine, messaged how infuriated he was with me. For a moment, I was reduced to the fourteen-year-old who knew he was going to be marched out to the barn for a very necessary talk.  Pa picked up a telegram from his desk and handed it to me. I read it. The words “desperate straits” jumped out at me. 

Before I could comment, Pa said, “Go upstairs and pack your bags. You’re leaving first thing in the morning!”

“For how long?” 

“Maybe for forever, Joseph!”

With widened eyes and a dropped jaw, I found my words. “Pa, you’re not serious!”

My father’s steely face and lack of response gave me his answer.  

I gulped, “But, Pa, in four months I’m gonna be twenty-three. Being with my friends at The Silver Dollar, playing poker, and having beers is important.  I need outlets and….”

My pa cut me off. “No, Joseph, you need discipline and lessons in responsibility! Don’t add whining to your list of infractions. Now go! Remember, up and out by sunrise.”

I think I would rather have been taken out to the barn. 

In the morning I apologized to Hop Sing and Hoss, and said goodbye. 

Pa walked me out to the barn and talked to me as I saddled Cochise. 

“Joseph, do whatever is necessary to help out!”

Pa handed me an envelope with two hundred dollars for supplies or whatever else might be needed.

“Make sure you telegraph me after you assess the situation. I’ll wire more money, if necessary.”

We honestly didn’t know what the desperate straits were, but Pa figured money had to be involved to some extent.

“Pa, I really am sorry for the way I’ve been acting lately, and I’m especially sorry about last night. I hope Mr. Potter doesn’t vent his anger on you and the banking relationship you’re trying to establish.”

My father told me he heard the sincerity in my voice and saw the remorse in my expressive eyes.

“Don’t worry, son! I’m sure Mr. Potter’s business sense will outweigh any personal feelings. As I lay in bed last night, after I stopped seething, the image of that poor woman covered in mashed potatoes and gravy made me laugh out loud!  Now Joseph, be on your way!”

“Pa, I didn’t pack for forever!”

My father smiled, remembering what he had told me last night. 

“Joe, play it by ear. We don’t even know what the problem is yet!  Whatever the situation, I’m sure you’ll help resolve it in less than a year!”

“A year? Pa, you are joking, aren’t you? Pa?”

My father placed his hands on my shoulders. “As much as I’d like to ship you off on occasion for an unspecified period of time, I have to admit, I would miss you.”

With that said, Pa pulled me into an embrace. He heard me expel a sharp whoosh of breath. My father had to smile and said, “My youngest son is so dramatic!”

“Joe, let us know what dire straits are being faced as soon as you can.  If the problem turns out to be more serious, Hoss and I are here when and if you need us.”

“Thanks, Pa.  I’ll keep in touch!”

As I began to mount Cochise, Pa landed a solid whack on my backside and said, “Now get going! That was for last night and your past transgressions, if you were wondering!”

I flashed my brilliant smile and trotted past the barn and out of sight. 

“Keep him safe,” Ben whispered. 

Chapter Two

After riding for six days, the Davis ranch came into view. It appeared quiet. 

Can’t believe it’s been five years since…

Sam came flying out the door to greet the eagerly awaited Help. Joe barely got off Cochise when Sam grabbed him and enveloped him in an emotionally powerful hug. 

“Well, I’m happy to see you, too, Sam”

Joe released himself. 

“You nearly squeezed the breath out of me.” 

 “Come on, Lily-liver, let’s go inside .”

“Who ya callin Lily-liver?” 

Sam just snickered.

As Joe walked up the path he noticed the house was in disrepair. Sam opened the door.  Steve Davis’s face lit up seeing the youngest Cartwright. Ben had sent a telegram notifying Davis of his son’s arrival. 

“Hey, Joe, it’s so good to see you. Come on in and meet my cat, Mouser. He’s a skilled hunter who keeps our rodent population in check.”  

Mouser purred in agreement.

Steve remained seated in his chair petting the cat. Joe’s eyes scanned the room and spotted crutches leaning against the wall.

“Steve, what happened to you?”

“First, get yourself settled and washed up. Sam made stew, biscuits, and coffee. There’s even dry apple pie on the menu. I’m sure after being on the trail, you’re ready for a good, home-cooked meal.  Sam, show Joe to his room.”

“Ok, Pa.” 

“Joe, I’ll stable Cochise and get your saddlebags. You’re in the first room on the right.”

Joe washed the dirt off his hands, face, neck, and chest. The cool water was refreshing. He stood only in his cotton, knee-length drawers awaiting Sam’s return with his saddlebags so he could change for dinner. While waiting, Joe’s mind drifted back to ten years ago, when the Davises lived on the Ponderosa. After working for Ben for two years as foreman, Steve got bitten by the gold digging bug. He settled his family in Owens Valley, California and worked in the mines.  Steve made enough money to buy a modest-sized spread to begin raising horses and cattle. Five years ago the Davis family visited the Cartwright clan. It was Joe’s eighteenth birthday. Ben wanted to surprise Joe, and boy, he did! 

Joe was shaken from his reverie when Sam charged into the room with the saddlebags in hand. 

“Don’t you knock?”

“Oh, Joe, sorry! I-I-I didn’t realize you were almost naked!”

“Well hand me my stuff and head out to the kitchen. I’m hungry!”

Sam was so flustered. 

Boy, has Joe filled out! He’s matured in all the right places since we saw him for his birthday party five years ago.

The well-defined muscles and trim body Sam ogled, took her breath away. 

Sam ran upstairs to change into more fitting attire for dinner since the boy she had had a crush on years ago was dining with them. 

Joe was seated at the table when Sam reappeared. His eyes lit up.

“Samantha, you look lovely!”

Her father almost spit out his water! Sam was a work duds tomboy who wore her hair in a top knot! Now, before his eyes was a transformed young lady. 

Steve thought, “Joe still has an effect on my daughter like no one else.”

Joe’s eyes focused on the once little bumps that were now full, rounded breasts. They filled the simple dress in an enticing way. Sam’s wavy, honey blonde hair cascaded down past her shoulders. Joe was dumbfounded by the beautiful nineteen-year-old who stood before him. 

It’s a good thing no one can see under the table. 

The twitching in his pants was a dead giveaway about how Sam’s appearance was affecting him.

A loud ahem came from Steve Davis’s throat. “Sam, I mean Samantha, are you going to serve the food tonight?” 

A soft, pink blush crept up her cheeks. 

“Yes, Pa. Hold your impatient horses,” Sam said, her eyes twinkling with a smile.

Conversation flowed while they enjoyed supper. The three friends reminisced about Steve working as the foreman for Ben ten years ago. Sam was nine, her brother, Lonnie and Joe were twelve, although Joe had insisted he was closer to thirteen.  The relationship was more like a sister and brothers. Joe and Lonnie were especially close.  During those years, there was a lot of teasing, dares, and fun.  

“Remember when I caught you and Lonnie spying on the older girls swimming in the lake? You had taken their clothes and were waiting for them to get out of the water so you could see them naked.”

Joe jumped in! “That’s enough, Sam! I just remember doing your chores for a month so you wouldn’t tell your pa or mine.”

Steve looked amused. Then a look of sadness crossed his face. “I miss Lonnie,” is all he said. 

Between 1862 and 1863, the Army and some settlers fought in the Owens Valley Indian Wars with the Paiute. At barely twenty, Lonnie had volunteered to fight.  Eight months after the war had begun, Steve learned that his son, along with some soldiers, had been captured and their bodies burned beyond recognition. 

“You know, Joe,  we only had ashes to bury. We don’t even know if they were Lonnie’s.”

To lighten the morose mood, Joe shared his story about the last sit-down dinner he had had with his family. Steve and Samantha almost fell off their chairs after hearing about Mrs. Potter’s unfortunate mishap. 

Then Joe turned serious.

“Okay,  I want you two to tell me why you told Pa you needed me or one of my brothers to come here,  that you were in desperate straits? What’s going on? Does it have anything to do with your injuries, Steve?” 

Sam spoke up, “I sent the telegram to your father. That’s why I signed it, S. Davis. I thought he may not take it seriously if he realized it was from the little girl who once lived on your ranch.  My father didn’t want to involve any of you, Joe, but the situation is getting worse!”

“Steve, like I asked, do your injuries have anything to do with your desperate straits?” 

“Pa doesn’t want to admit it, Joe, but too many bad things have happened. At first we thought it was coincidence or carelessness, but now we know something more sinister is happening.” 

“Explain!”

“About a month ago the horses got out of the corral. Pa thought I had left the gate open, but I knew I hadn’t. It took me all the next day to round up those animals. A few days later, the chickens were released from their coop- silly, small incidents, but enough to make you start thinking. Then things started escalating. While we were eating supper one night, we saw flames through the window. The shed had been set on fire. Pa and I extinguished it before the fire spread. The last straw was when Pa was climbing the ladder to the loft and fell. One rung toward the top of the ladder had been sawed down the middle. Looking at it, you couldn’t tell, but when Pa stepped on that rung, he was taken by surprise and…”

“I came crashing down, wrenching my back and breaking my right ankle.”

“Realizing that someone tampered with the ladder, I told Pa we needed help. That’s when I sent the telegram. I figured if I said “desperate straits,” your Pa would send one of you immediately.”

“Did you talk to the sheriff?”

“Joe, what would I say? I have no real proof. I would sound like a fool if I didn’t even have a suspect to report.  Anyway, you haven’t met our sheriff. He’s a buffoon!”

Joe had to snicker. Sam never minced words.

“Can you make a connection between these incidents and anything else that’s happened within the same time frame?” 

“The only thing I can think of is that a family with teenage twin boys moved into the old Jackson house a little over a month ago. We got that information from what we had heard in town. We’re not sure if there’s a ma, but there is a pa. This craziness started happening soon after they arrived.  Again, there’s no proof.”

“Another possibility is that after the Owens Indian War ended in 1863,  skirmishes continued to break out by small groups of Indians.  However, the problems we’re experiencing don’t sound like something Indians would do.”

Steve piped in,  “You see Joe, there are a couple of possibilities but we don’t know if there’s a connection to either one or neither one.”

With furrowed eyebrows Joe asked, “So what do you want me to do?”

“Honestly, Joe, I was hoping your father would have sent either Hoss or Adam. Hoss’s formidable size would scare anyone away, and Adam would do the same by his intimidating look.”

“Thanks a lot!”

“Why didn’t your father send one of them?”

“Adam moved away two months ago to pursue his dream of traveling, and Hoss has been taking up most of the slack. So you’re stuck with Little Lily-liver!”

Joe didn’t want to say that he was chosen more as a punishment. 

“Honestly, Joe, after seeing more of you than I should have, I know you can handle our problem.”

Joe gave Sam a sideways look.

Steve jumped in, “Well, we’re not going to solve anything tonight. Joe, you must be dead tired. Given your latest history of falling asleep at the table, I suggest you go to bed. We don’t want to lose any of our dishes or the food still sitting on the table!”

“Very funny, Steve. Yeah, I am pretty beat!”

 “Sam, you need help cleaning up?”

“You can assist tomorrow, Joe. Go to bed now, like Pa said.”

“Good night!”

Chapter Three

Joe couldn’t sleep.  His mind was too active. He kept rehashing the conversation from supper.

I agree with Sam. All the incidents they’ve experienced are not the Indian way. They wouldn’t have just released the horses and chickens.  They would have taken them! It’s possible they could have set the shed on fire, but sawing a rung on a ladder? Nah, I have to rule out Paiutes for now.

Teenage boys and pranks, although some were harmful, makes more sense to me.  We’ll definitely drop in on the new neighbors!

Enough thinking, Joe. Get some sleep!

In the morning, Joe shared his thoughts with Steve and Sam.  Steve thought pranks were the most logical possibility.  He agreed visiting the new neighbors was a good place to start.  However, Joe told Steve he wanted to wait a few days before he and Sam became the hospitality committee, welcoming the new neighbors to the Owens Valley area.

“I have some other priorities. First, Sam and I are going into town.  I want to send a telegram to my father to let him know I’m fine and everything is under control.

Joe laughed to himself.  Under control? Every instinct is screaming for me to beg my pa for the help he offered.

“Next, we’re going to talk to the sheriff to tell him what’s been happening here and see if we can get more information about the new family.  Finally, we’re picking up supplies. While you’re laid up, Steve, I want to help around the house.”  

Joe decided it was a better idea to stay close to the ranch so he could make repairs and keep an eye on any unusual activity. 

Joe and Sam said goodbye to Steve and headed outside to the barn. As they were saddling their horses, Joe turned to Sam,  “Don’t you have any ranch hands?”

“Yeah, Joe, Pa hired two Paiute men about a year ago and another one almost six months ago to work on the ranch. Their names are George, John, and Jim. They don’t use their Indian names. It was their choice, and we didn’t feel it was our place to question them. You haven’t seen them because they’ve been on a roundup for over a month. If they were here, I wouldn’t have needed you.”

“Unless they’re the culprits,” Joe whispered under his breath.

“What’d you say?”

“Well, you said the trouble began about a month ago and the three Indians left for a roundup around the same time. Don’t you find that a bit curious?”

“Joe, they’ve been with us for quite a while.  We have no reason to be suspicious of them.  They’re good men and hard workers.”

“Okay, Sam, but I’ll keep a close eye out for them. Let’s stick to our plan, and go into Bishop so I can send the telegram. You know how my father worries, although he’d never admit it.  Pa thought you might be having money problems.  Is that part of the dire straits?  I saw the condition of the outside of your house yesterday when we were walking up the path.  You can tell me to mind my own business, but is money also an issue?”

“Things are a little tight right now.  There are ranches that won’t do business with Pa anymore since he employed the Paiutes as ranch hands after the war.  If anyone should be holding a grudge, it should be me and Pa because of Lonnie,  but that’s not the type of people we are.  There are other settlers who hired the Paiutes as domestics, laborers, and ranch hands like we did.  Around 900 Indians were forcibly relocated to the Sebastian Indian Reservation near Fort Tejon when the war ended.  Harsh conditions and lack of supplies made many of them return to Owens Valley for survival reasons. That’s when some settlers started hiring them.  I think other ranchers would have a better attitude if there still weren’t minor skirmishes occurring near Independence and at Rock Spring. Things will normalize again, Joe, and we’ll be right back where we were financially.  I’ll introduce you to our three Paiute ranch hands when they get back from the roundup.”   

“Do you really trust them?”

“Joe, like I told you, they’ve been working for us for a while and have never done anything to make us mistrust them.”

“Maybe they’re still bitter. You don’t know, Sam. Think about it!  I’m just saying it’s a possibility. I’ll be keeping an eye out for them, like I said, and you should, too.”

Sam rolled her eyes and said, “Let’s get going, Mr. Suspicious.”

The telegram got sent off.  Then Joe and Sam headed to the sheriff’s office. Joe explained the incidents that had been occurring. Sam had described Sheriff Brown perfectly. He only listened to them half-heartedly. He was more focused on scratching, yawning, and picking his teeth. Uninterested was an understatement. 

“Listen, Sheriff, we came to you for some help. Is there anything you can tell us about new or suspicious people in the area?” 

Finally, Brown shared that a father and his twin teenage boys moved in a little over a month ago. They were the only new people to the sheriff’s knowledge.

“The only thing I heard is that they lived in the Independence area for a while, and have moved around a lot. Word is the father said they wanted to get a new start. “

Joe’s ears had perked up at the words, “new start.” New start from what? he thought. His suspicious mind was working overtime. 

“That’s all I know about them. Until they cause a problem here, I will leave them alone, and I’d advise you to do the same.  Understood?”

“Absolutely, Sheriff Brown.  We’re law-abiding citizens!  Thank you, Sir! We appreciate the information.” 

Brown went back to picking his teeth as Sam and Joe headed to the mercantile to pick up supplies. They felt they could breathe a little easier believing more and more that the incidents were probably nothing more than boys’ pranks.

After a few days working on the Davis ranch, Joe and Sam had repairs made and a fresh coat of paint on the house.  It looked much better. More importantly, no more incidents had occurred.

Joe decided it was time to welcome the new neighbors. He and Sam headed out to the old Jackson place the next day.  As they advanced toward the ranch, they saw one rather large-sized boy chopping wood and another boy of equal size whitewashing the barn.  The boys both looked up when they heard the horses approach. 

Sam spoke up first, “Hello! My name is Samantha Davis.  My Pa and I live on the Big D ranch about 10 miles from here.  We knew the Jackson family who lived here.  They moved several years ago, and the house has sat abandoned. Then we heard a new family moved in.  I’ve been meaning to welcome you to the Owens Valley area, but our ranch has kept me pretty busy.  By the way, this is my friend Joe Cartwright from Virginia City.  He’s visiting with me and Pa. Is your Pa here?”

“Nah, he’s in town gettin’ some supplies.  He won’t be back for a while and we have to get our chores done. So why don’t you get going.”

Joe spoke up,  “You’re not being very neighborly.  You haven’t even told us your names.”

“None of your business, Mister! Now, get off our property!”

Joe got off Coochise instead.

The boy who had been chopping the wood walked closer to Joe.  The oversized kid raised his axe, ready to swing it at Joe.  Joe’s quick draw and deadly aim shot the axe right out of the boy’s hand. The boy’s twin came storming over while his brother was cradling his burned hand. Joe abruptly ended that charge with a left hook to the boy’s jaw.

“Now, let’s try this again.  What’re names and why are you being so unsociable?  Do you have something to hide?”

“Listen, Mister, our pa don’t like strangers on our property.  He’s real strict about that and about us getting our work done.  He’ll have our hides if our chores ain’t done.”

“Okay, I get it.  We just want to know your names.”

The boy with the sore jaw answered, “I’m Larry and that’s my twin brother, Harry. We’re the Marshalls.” 

“Now, that wasn’t difficult!  Where’d you live before moving here?”

“Different places!”

“Was there a reason you moved so much? Maybe you used to get into trouble?” 

Harry shushed Larry. That conversation came to an abrupt end.

Sam spoke again,  “I guess you realize we just didn’t come up here to welcome you to the area.  Have you two been down to my ranch?” 

Like I said, that’s Sam.  She doesn’t beat around the bush!

“What are you talking about, Lady?”

“Listen, we told you to git off our property. Now go!”

“The lady asked you a question. You’d better speak up or we’ll haul your asses to the sheriff!”

“What are you going to charge us with, not speaking up?”

Harry and Larry were bent over with laughter.

Sam looked at Joe and gestured to him to leave. They weren’t getting anywhere with those two idiots.

Joe’s steely glare was unflinching.  “We’ll be watching your every move. If we see you anywhere near the Big D, you’ll regret it.”

With that, Sam and Joe headed out.

When they were far enough away, they dismounted.  Sam said, “What do you think, Joe?  Could they be the culprits?” 

“It’s possible, Sam. There’s something they’re hiding.  I’m going back to keep an eye on them and their place.  I want to wait until the father comes back. I gotta get a look at the guy who fathered these buffoons.”

That last statement brought on an attack of giggles.  Sam swatted Joe on his arm.

“Okay, okay.  Sam, go back home to make sure your father is okay. I don’t think he should be left alone too long. Anyway, weren’t your Indians due back today?”

Sam started to open her mouth, but Joe held up his open palm. “I know what you’re going to say.  They’ve worked for you for a while;  you trust them, and they’re good men.”

Sam smiled and just shook her head.  She was about to leave when Joe pulled her back and placed an unbridled, passionate kiss on her lips. 

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first night I saw ‘Samantha’ appear before my eyes. You looked beautiful!” 

Sam was breathless. She pressed her breasts against Joe’s chest and said, “I’m answering your kiss!”

“As much as I’d like to continue this conversation, it’s better if you head back to the ranch. I won’t be long. I promise we’ll pick up where we left off!”

Samantha gave Joe’s bulge a gentle squeeze. A low moan escaped from his throat. 

Joe, in turn, placed both hands on Sam’s rounded breasts and gently thrust his tongue into her mouth. Both were panting and wanting more, but Joe knew they each had an important job to do right now.

“Hurry back, Joe. You’ve awakened a feeling in me I’ve never experienced before!”

The throbbing Joe felt in his pants made him agree with Samantha. “You’ve certainly set me on fire!”

The setting sun caught Samantha’s radiant smile.  Then she mounted her horse and galloped away.

Joe got his arousal under control, tied Cochise to a tree, and walked back to the house.  He stayed at a safe distance so he wouldn’t be spotted. He positioned himself to have a good view through the window. Just like Joe thought, about thirty minutes later,  another person  arrived. It was a man. His hat was pulled down real low and his collar pulled up real high.  The man’s back was to Joe.

Is that the father? His stature and size look like that of a younger man, too young and small to be their pa.

Joe didn’t want to get any closer for fear of being detected.  

I wish the guy would turn around.

A rapid, powerful pounding shook Joe out of his thoughts.  He could feel the ground vibrate as a horse galloped into the yard.  It was an older and bigger man.

It certainly is busy here!  

Now that guy looks like he could be the twin’s father, but who’s that other man in the house?

Voices grew louder after the older guy entered the house. The only words Joe could make out the assumed father was saying were, “Gold, you owe me, and don’t come here again!” More words were exchanged but Joe couldn’t hear them.  Then the younger man bolted out the door, and went around the back. Joe could hear the thundering hooves as the stranger charged down the road.

The father slapped both boys around and was cursing. The boys stood frozen as their father dressed them down.  Joe wished he could make out what was being said. He stayed a while longer, but nothing more happened. Joe figured since he wasn’t getting any new information to share with Steve and Sam,  he would head back to the house. A beautiful young lady was awaiting his arrival. The sun had set, and the full moon was rising.

A perfect night for me and Sam to continue our conversation!

Chapter Four

As Joe rode into the Davis ranch, he noticed the house looked dark and quiet.  A sickly feeling seized Joe. His pounding heartbeat thundered in his ears.  Joe swung down from Cochise.  He drew his gun, tracking every shadow as he advanced toward the house.  What caught his eye caused him to freeze in place.  The moonlight shone on the wellhead where Mouser was hanging dead! 

Joe charged toward the front door and found it slightly ajar. He kicked it open!  Once inside, he lit a match and scanned the room.  The scene, with its overturned furniture screamed of a struggle.  Steve’s crutches lay on the floor in the middle of the debris. 

Joe found a lamp and lit it.  His mind was consumed by panic, but his body kept moving.

 “Sam, Steve, are you here?  Can you hear me?”  

Then Joe heard hoofbeats.  He extinguished the lamp.  Peering through the window, he could make out three riders.  As they drew closer to the house, Joe waited for the right moment, then sprang out.  “Throw your guns down and put your hands in the air!” 

“Who you?  Where Mr. Steve and Miss Sam?”

“That’s what I wanna know! Who are you?”

“Me George. He John.  He Jim. We work for Mr. Steve.”

“You’re the Paiutes Steve hired.  He said you were coming back earlier today.”

George spoke up, “Took longer than want.  Had to get calf out of muddy bog!”  

Joe had to stifle a giggle that was bubbling up from his throat remembering his own mishap.

Then Jim spoke, “Can put hands down?”

“No! I don’t know you, so I don’t trust you!” 

I need to think.

“How do I know you didn’t hurt Steve and Sam, that you didn’t take them somewhere?”

“Davis family kind to us.  Treat us good.  Like them,” John said.

Against my better judgement…

 “Okay, put your hands down, but make any sudden moves and I’ll shoot you!”

Joe still had his gun drawn as he led them into the house.  He had George light the lamp again. 

“Pick up the chairs and sit down! Remember, my gun is itching for action!”

Three sets of eyes peered at Joe. 

“We just get back from roundup. Gone for more than a month.”

“Now that’s interesting. The Davises started having problems around the time you say you left! How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

George’s voice boomed, “Paiutes no lie!”

Joe remembered his Pa telling him and his brothers that the Indians’ word was sacred. Joe desperately wanted to put his faith in these three men, but at this point, he didn’t know who to trust. 

“What trouble Mr. Steve and Miss Sam have?”

Suddenly, the floor vibrated with a strong, loud thumping. 

Jim jumped up, “Come from cellar!”

“Sit down before you visit your Great Spirit sooner than planned!”

“Move rug!” John piped in. 

Without any option, Joe said, “John, go do it!”

John did as he was told. A trap door was beneath the rug. John pulled the door open. Barely hanging on the ladder was Steve. 

“Need help!” 

“George, help him!”

They pulled Steve up and laid him on the floor. He was bleeding from the head and had been badly beaten.  Steve started to open his mouth to say something, but drifted into unconsciousness. 

Joe knew he had no choice but to trust the Indians. He finally holstered his gun. 

“Jim, please get some water and cloths. “

Joe went over to Steve. “Steve, where’s Sam?” 

There was no response.

John and George cleared off the couch and carefully lifted Steve onto it. 

Jim began cleaning off the blood from Steve’s head. With another cloth he proceeded to wipe his face and neck. 

Steve opened his eyes which were clouded with tears. “Oh Sam, my sweet daughter, please find her!”

“What happened?”

“Some big guy busted in and pummeled me. I kept asking what he wanted. He just said,  “Shut up!” “I couldn’t even fight back. He dragged me to the trap door.  That animal must have hit me on the head and dropped me down. I was knocked out but came to when I heard voices. It was Sam. She was yelling at him and I could hear her struggling. Mouser was growling and hissing. I started to move but must have passed out again.  I came to when I heard more voices. I recognized all of you. I pulled myself up and started pounding. And here I am.”

“Steve, did you recognize the guy?”

“No, his face was covered but I could see he was a big, heavyset man.”

“How’d the guy know you had a trap door under the rug to drop you down?”

All that talking weakened Steve.  He started to lose consciousness.

Joe was suspicious of the Indians once again. 

Were they working with this man and told him about the hidden door? 

Joe had to put that thought aside and focus on the guy who had beaten Steve so badly.  He needed to get more information before he could find Sam .

“Steve, Steve,  was the guy wearing overalls?”

Coming to again, Steve answered, “Yea, how’d you know?” 

“If it’s the man I’m thinking of, I saw him earlier tonight, probably after he left here!”

“Did he have Sam with him?”

With slumped shoulders and downward eyes,  Joe answered, “No, Steve.”

Joe straightened his posture,  “But I promise I’m going to find her and bring her back. Rest now.” 

Joe turned to Jim and told him to stay with Steve.

“Wait Joe, have you seen Mouser?”

Joe paused, and with a catch in his voice said,  “I’m sorry, Steve!” 

Joe turned abruptly.

“George, John…”  Then with hesitation said, “Get your guns!”

“We find Miss Sam. George make promise, too!”

Joe really wanted to trust the Indians, but he knew he couldn’t let his guard down.  He also wished his father and Hoss were there to help him. He never felt as alone and afraid as he did right now, but Joe knew what had to be done.

He took a breath, “Okay, you two, let’s go!”

Chapter  Five

Once again the Marshall ranch came into view. The three men dismounted and tied their horses to the trees. On foot, they crept closer to the house. Joe could only pray they’d find Sam somewhere on the property. His mind was being plagued by doubt.  Earlier when he was spying on the house, Sam was not with the man Joe believed to be the twin’s father.  There were more questions than answers, but for now Joe had to go by instinct. Having shared his plan with the Paiutes, it was time for action!

Peering through the window, Joe could see the father succumbing to his whiskey. 

He motioned to George and John to go around back to get into the house and apprehend the twins. 

After counting to ten, Joe came crashing through the front door. The father bolted up and tried to grab for his gun, but the whiskey’s effects slowed his reflexes. Joe was on him like a wild beast. He delivered a powerful punch into the man’s belly. Joe heard a loud whoosh of air expelled from the man’s lungs as he went down. Joe hauled the guy back up to his feet and unleashed his best left hook to the father’s jaw that slammed him back into his chair.

George and John herded the two tied up boys into the same room with their father. 

“I believe I have your attention now, Mr. Marshall, if that’s what your name is!  Start talking!”

“I don’t know what you’re jawin’ about!”

With narrowed, piercing eyes, Joe spoke in a menacing, low voice, “Try again, you bastard! I saw you come back here earlier today after you left the Davis place. Steve described you.”

Marshall’s eyes widened.

“Yes, he came to just long enough to give us the details we needed to come after you.”

“I got nothin’ to say!”

With that George took out his knife and pulled Larry’s tongue out. 

“Your sons will have nothing to say if you no answer!”

You could smell the boys’ panic. 

Harry screamed, “Please, Pa, don’t let him do this to us, please!”

Blood began dripping from Larry’s tongue.  His terror-filled eyes and bloodcurdling, guttural sounds, had Harry retching and their father finally shouting, “STOP!”

George had only nicked Larry’s tongue, but the dramatic bleeding delivered the desired results.

“Alright, Marshall, George isn’t in a good mood. Start talking or he’ll pay you the next visit! Where’s the girl?”

“I don’t know, and that’s the truth!  My job was to get rid of the father, but not kill him. Then I had to wait to get the girl alone and bring her to a spot about a mile outside of Bishop where some guy would be waiting. I didn’t see him.  He stayed in the shadows. I handed over the girl and was ordered to leave!”

Joe couldn’t wrap his head around what was just said. 

Joe pulled his gun and pressed it into Marshall’s temple.  “I’m losing patience!  Who told you to do it? Who was your contact person?  How did you know when to go to the house and when Sam would be alone.  Oh yea, and how’d you know there was a trap door? I have a lot of questions and little patience, so you’d better give me something, and quick!”

With sweat dripping and breathing labored,  Marshall blurted out, “I was Corporal Jack Marshall before getting dishonorably discharged. My last assignment was at Camp Independence during the Owens Valley Indian Wars.  I was caught stealing rations and selling them to some of the miners. The army strung me up by my thumbs with my feet barely touching the ground. They also whipped me, and bucked and gagged me. Then I got thrown into the brig. When I finished my time, I got thrown out of the army with two kids and nothing but the shirt on my back.  I hated the army for doing that to me.”  

Joe rolled his eyes. Yeah, doing that to him!

“Go on!”

“I met this Indian who was an Eastern Mono war leader.  Even though the war officially ended in 1863, he refused to participate in treaties or go off with his people.  He continued to take part in hostilities.  Me and my boys would steal food and supplies wherever we could to help him out. It was my way of gettin’ even with the army.  We moved around so we wouldn’t get caught.”

“Who was the Indian?” 

“I can’t tell.”

“George,  bring your knife over here.  If he’s not gonna talk, he doesn’t need his tongue!”

“Joaquin Jim. That’s who it was.  He stopped fighting in 1864, but never surrendered and was never captured.”   

“Give me more!”

“He found me a couple of months back and said he had cut his hair and got a job in the Bishop area a few months before he contacted me.  He wanted me to settle here, too.”

“Why?”

“He just said he needed me and my boys to help him get revenge on some settlers. Turns out it was the people you know.  I had my boys do some things on the ranch for the past month. You know, to shake up the family. Didn’t expect you to come.  I’ve been watching the house for days and today I saw you and the girl leave.  I waited until it was safe. Then I broke into the house and took care of the old man.  I beat him up and dumped him in the cellar.  Figured when you and the girl came back, I’d shoot you and take the girl.”

With his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched, Joe lunged for Jack but pulled back quickly. 

Joe’s eyes grew wide!

“Steve! Dear God. We left Jim with him!” 

In a lethal tone Joe said, “You’d better hope he’s alive!”

“John, stay with these animals. “

“George, come with me!”

The horses were pushed beyond their limits. Joe and George leapt from their mounts and smashed through the front door! They were stunned by the sight! Jim was feeding Steve some broth. Well, that was until Joe and George burst through the door. Both men jumped, and the broth went sailing! Airborne food was becoming a trend, thanks to Joe!

“Joe! George! What’s wrong?”

“Steve, are you okay? Jim hasn’t tried to kill you?”

“Kill me? Jim hasn’t stopped caring for me!”

Jim looked astonished. 

“You’re not Joaquin Jim?” 

‘No, Paiute name,  Bheem. Mean strength, courage. I change to Jim.”

“Joe, where’s Sam? Who told you Jim was this Joaquin Jim?”

“The guy who beat you up and took Sam! He spins a real believable tall tale! Wait until I finish with that bastard. He’s gonna wish he had never been born!”

“Find Sam, Joe!”

Joe nodded.  Then he and George bolted out of the house. 

Their horses’ hooves were pounding the ground once again. Joe and George got back to the Marshall place, or whatever their name was, in record time. 

The place looked deserted.  Both men dismounted and started toward the house. Joe and George both jerked to a halt when they heard the rustling of leaves. Out of the shadows came one man. 

Joe drew his gun as he flipped around. 

“Sheriff, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!”

“Sorry, Joe. I got curious after your visit a few days ago and decided to come up and check things for myself. Looks like we’re too late.”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you after we get inside.”

Even though the house seemed abandoned, they didn’t take any chances and kept their guns drawn. Inside, ropes were on the floor. They had been clean cut with a knife. The only knives sharp enough belonged to the Indians, not that Marshall scum.

Was another Paiute involved? Was the Indian John the contact person? Could they be part of one of the skirmish groups?

Jack, Larry, Harry, and Indian John were gone.  It would be dark in a couple of hours but Joe knew they had to track these men while the trail was still fresh. Joe filled the sheriff in on what had happened. 

George and Joe were excellent trackers. For a split second, time stood still as their brains realized where the Marshall’s and Paiute John were heading. Flying at lightning speed, they returned to the Davis ranch. Both Steve and Jim were no longer there. 

Once again, Joe’s mind worked furiously. 

What is going on? Is this a skirmish group seeking revenge?  Who is the mastermind behind the plan? 

Joe’s head was ready to explode.

There are too many twists and turns. It’s getting so complicated. I only have the questions and no answers.

George looked at the tracks heading away from the house. He knew their plan.  

“They go to granite rocks and caves. This their destination.”

The sheriff decided he’d go back to town to form a posse.

“We can’t wait for you to do that.  George and I are heading out to the rock formations and caves located about 13 miles north of Bishop.”

“Be careful.  I’ll get there as soon as I can.”  

Then the sheriff took off.

“George, I have to ask, are you working with these kidnappers?”

“No, I am man of peace.  John and Jim good men, can be trusted.”

“You sounded just like Sam.  Let’s go!”

Chapter Six

The moonlight was a welcome friend as George led Joe to the caves where settlers had utilized them as temporary shelters. Joe was thankful George was with him, even though he still wasn’t sure he could trust him one hundred percent. Right now, Joe didn’t have a choice.  

They finally reached the granite rock formations and caves. The first two caves Joe and George checked were deserted.  As they reached the third cave, voices could be heard.  Joe and George inched their way in. This cave was rather shallow so the pair didn’t have to go too deep into it. As they got to a better vantage point,  Joe and George could see the hostages.  Steve appeared to be in bad shape.  Sam was next to him trying to keep him comfortable. Jim and John were tied up. Finally, Joe believed the Indians weren’t part of the scheme.  Larry and Harry were seated on the floor with their guns leveled at the hostages.  Jack Marshall was impatiently pacing around.

“I asked you before, “What are you going to do with us?  Why are we here?”

“Shut up, Bitch!  I told you before, all in good time!  I’m waiting for my partners.”

“After watching you for the past couple of hours, I know who you are now!  You’re John Barry! You came to our ranch four years ago looking for a job. Pa hired you and you stole from us!  He didn’t press charges because you had the boys. Pa kicked you off the ranch and told you to never return.”

“You got it! I finally settled the score with your old man for doing that to me. Beat him up pretty good, too, didn’t I? Gave me some satisfaction.  Because of him I had to join the army so I could get food and shelter for me and my boys. Got into trouble there too. But now things are gonna get better.  Gettin’ gold for kidnapping you.  It don’t matter me tellin’ you ‘cause you’re never gonna get a chance to tell nobody what we done!”

“Why didn’t you kill my father instead of just beating him?”

“Cause my partner wants the satisfaction of doin’ it!”

Horses’ hooves could be heard approaching.  Joe and George didn’t know if it was the sheriff and posse or Barry’s partners.  George motioned to Joe and they hid behind a formation of rocks. Joe was grateful he was with a man who knew this area so well. 

Two more riders could be seen through a cloud of dust.  

It’s not the sheriff and his posse! Must be the partners. One of them is the young guy I saw at Marshall’s, I mean Barry’s house.  His hat was pulled down real low, collar pulled up high, and still is.

They dismounted and entered the cave.  Joe and George listened attentively. 

“Did you get the gold you promised me?”  Barry asked. 

Joe and George had to strain their ears to hear the response.  The man spoke in a low, raspy, whisper.

“You’ll get your gold!  The job’s not finished yet!”

Then the man speaking turned to face the hostages. 

“Hello, Pa.  Hello, little sister. Bet you’re surprised to see me!”

“Lonnie?”

“In the flesh, or what’s left of it!”

Steve gasped. His chest was heaving.  Sam tried to calm him down, but her own heart hammered against her ribs.  Shock was etched on their faces!

Trying to get her breathing under control, Sam said, “We were told you were dead, burned alive.  The army sent ashes to us.  They weren’t sure if they were yours, but Pa and I buried them, thinking it was you, or what was left of you.  Why didn’t you tell us you were alive?”

His body trembling with fury, “I’m only half alive!”

Then a sinister laugh could be heard.  

 “But soon you’re not going to be alive at all!”

“Why,  Lonnie?  Please talk to me, son?”  Steve labored to ask the questions.

“Why? You ask me why?”  Lonnie ripped off his hat and pulled down his collar.  Look at me! I’m a freak.  I’m forever disfigured.  The Indians did this to me and you hired them to work on our ranch.  You’re a traitor, and you must be punished!  Enough talk now!”

Lonnie turned to his other partner. “Marty, did you pick a good cave?” 

“Yea, Lonnie, nice and deep! Only their bones will be found one day.

Joe had to get a plan together, and fast!

“Lonnie, wait!  How’d you survive?”

“Tell her, Mr. Barry.”

“Me and my boys was hiding and saw what was going on.  After the Indians set the tied up prisoners on fire,  they left.  We saw one was a settler, recognized it was Steve Davis’s son,  so we pulled him from the fire.  Lonnie was out of his head, screaming in pain for weeks.  We took care of him knowing we could get something out of it.  He told us Steve had gold hidden somewhere in the house. Took over six months before Lonnie was healed enough to get around. We did what was needed to survive.  Then we worked on the plan for Lonnie to get revenge and eventually get the gold. ”

“I couldn’t understand, Pa, why you didn’t come looking for me.  Why weren’t you there to protect me from ridicule and name calling?  I was shunned and made to feel less than human. You abandoned me!”

“Lonnie, we believed you were dead! Don’t you understand?”

It was as if Lonnie never heard his father and just continued raving.

“I heard Indians were working on our ranch. I didn’t believe it. Then I saw it!  You were helping the enemy, the savages who did this to me!  That’s why you must be destroyed!”

Lonnie looked at his broken father. A tear trickled down Lonnie’s cheek. For a moment he seemed to regain his sanity and compassion. 

Then the irrational young man reappeared.  “No more talking.  Let’s go! Now your torture will begin!” 

As everyone got ready to move to the deeper cave, riders could be heard coming. Joe’s wish materialized.  Riding with the sheriff were his father and Hoss. 

As Marty poked his head out to check, George came from behind the rock and plunged his knife into the man’s back. 

Joe looked over, “One down!”

John Barry called out to Marty.  Silence answered him.

Joe and George rushed in with their guns drawn.

“Sorry, Marty’s taking a permanent nap. If you don’t want the same, you’d better put your guns down!”

Lonnie grabbed Sam and pressed his gun to her head. 

‘Lonnie, don’t be foolish. You’ll never get away!”

“If it isn’t my good friend, Joe Cartwright.  Wish we had more time to talk over old times, but as you can see, I’m in a bit of a hurry! Now, move out of the way or Sam gets her brains blown out.”

Joe did as he was told. Lonnie, keeping Sam in a tight hold, left. Minutes later, the sheriff, Ben, and Hoss were in the cave.  Joe’s eyes connected with his father’s. They reflected relief, fear, and sadness. Ben squeezed Joe’s shoulder. Then Joe flew out of the opening and began climbing the rocks to follow Lonnie and Sam.

Ben went over to Steve as Hoss and Sheriff Brown took care of the kidnappers. 

George released his friends from their bondage.

“Ben!” Steve gasped,  “Go after our children!”  And with those final words, Steve succumbed to both his physical injuries and his heartbreak. 

Ben closed Steve’s eyes and drew his friend’s hands together.  After saying a silent prayer, Ben got up and charged out of the cave. Looking up, he saw his son leaping from rock to rock in pursuit of Lonnie and Sam. Ben followed at a slower pace. 

Joe had almost caught up with Lonnie and Sam when for some reason, Lonnie stopped abruptly. Keeping a tight grip around Sam’s neck with one arm while holding the gun to her head with the other hand, Lonnie yelled, “Cartwright, I will find you guilty of aiding the enemy and will be forced to kill you, too. Now turn and leave!”

“Lonnie, Sam is not your enemy. She’s your sister.  Let me help you. Your injuries not only disfigured your face but they also warped your mind. Listen to me, Lonnie. I read about a doctor. His name is Dr. Gurdon Buck and he works out of New York Hospital as a plastic surgeon.  He has treated burn and facial wounds men received during the Civil War. He’s had a lot of success.  Pa and I will get you the help you need.”

All the while talking, Joe moved closer and closer. Ben kept moving, too. Lonnie seemed to be listening and understanding Joe’s words. 

Then Lonnie started shaking his head violently back and forth and screamed out, “No! You’re the traitors!  You were helping the Paiutes, the ones who did this to me! Don’t take another step.”

Sam spoke between sobs, “Lonnie, please listen to Joe. Let us get you the help you need. Please, Lonnie. I love you. You’re my big brother!”

Lonnie tenderly kissed Sam on the side of her head. Then without warning, while still maintaining a hold on Sam, turned the gun on Joe and fired. Joe got off a shot and hit Lonnie in the chest. Lonnie looked into Joe’s eyes with a grateful expression. As he began to tumble off the side of the cliff, Joe grabbed Sam freeing her from Lonnie’s grasp. 

“Lonnie!” she screamed.

Sam collapsed into Joe’s arms. Her weeping echoed through the rock formations!

Ben was by Joe like a shot when he saw Joe slumping down. Blood was seeping from Joe’s side. Ben pulled Joe’s shirt up and pressed his neckerchief on the wound.

Calling below, Ben said, “Joe’s been shot!” George and John hastened to their location and carried Joe down. Ben held tightly to a trembling Samantha. He didn’t have the heart to tell her, her father was dead, too.

Back on the ground, they saw the criminals tied to their horses. 

Sam froze. A loud gasp escaped her lips as she saw her father’s body covered and laid across his saddle.  Unable to handle anymore heartache, Samantha collapsed.

Hoss ran over with the canteen and splashed water on her face. As she came to, Hoss put water to her lips. With tears streaming from her eyes she looked at Hoss the same way she did as a little girl when she was hurt. Hoss lifted her into his arms and held Sam close. He hoisted her onto Chub and then climbed on behind her. Sam looked like a rag doll. Hoss’s heart broke for her. 

George lifted a semiconscious Joe onto Buck. Ben put his arms around Joe and whispered, “Stay with me, son,” as Joe slumped back on his father.

With everyone settled, Sheriff Brown, John,and George, took John Barry, Larry, Harry, and Marty’s body back to town. The sheriff said he’d send the doctor out to the house. 

Jim took Steve’s body and followed the Cartwright’s back to the ranch. 

Chapter Seven

The doctor, having treated both Joe and Sam, said they needed fluids and rest.  He left laudanum for both of them. Ben stayed with Joe and Hoss sat with Samantha. 

Sleeping in a chair next to Joe’s bed,  a voice awoke Ben in the early morning. 

“Pa, Pa.”

“Good morning! How are you feeling?”

“Weak. I have a sharp, burning pain in my side.”

Ben stirred the laudanum in a glass of water and helped position Joe so he could drink the mixture. 

“Come on, son, swallow this.”

Ben was always entertained watching Joe shudder and scrunch up his face taking the medicine. 

After the laudanum took effect, Ben left Joe’s room to check on Samantha. She, too, was sleeping. At least for a brief time,  the medicine allowed Sam to escape her reality. 

“Hey, Pa, how’s Joe?”

“Sleeping.  Besides recuperating from his bullet wound and loss of blood, he and Sam are both physically and emotionally exhausted.”

A knock on the front door disturbed Hoss and Ben’s conversation. Ben answered the door. It was George. 

“We go back and get body of son. Father and son together now.”

“Thank you, George. When Sam is ready, we’ll bury them side by side.”

“John pick up boxes. We put bodies in them. Holes dug the way of white man. Ready when Miss Sam ready.”

“Thanks, George.”

“How Mr. Joseph and Miss Sam?”

“Please come inside.”

Both men sat in the kitchen.

“Joe’s in pain but I gave him medicine to sleep. Sam is also sleeping.”

“I go now. Will do ranch chores.” 

“George, I want you to know how grateful I am to you for fighting by Joseph’s side to rescue Sam and your friends.”

“Mr. Cartwright, I am man of peace, but will fight injustice. Your son very brave young man. You must be proud father.”

“I am, George, or should I say, Captain George.”

“How you know?”

“I had read about you in the newspaper. You were the Paiute war chief who led your people in the Owens Valley Indian Wars. And you are the same chief who spoke with Colonel Evans at Camp Independence sharing the desire of the Paiute people to have peace and friendship with the white settlers. You are credited for ending the war in 1863. You are a truly great man.”

George nodded his appreciation in his humble way.

Ben told George to get Jim and John and join him and Hoss for breakfast. 

They all enjoyed eggs, bacon, bread, coffee, and conversation. After several hours of  partaking in a much-needed relaxing breakfast, the three ranch hands got up to leave to do their chores. 

Ben said, “I’m sure Joseph will want to see you when he’s up to it.” 

George answered, “Would like that.”

“Hoss, I’m going to look in on Joe. Would you please check on Sam?  Maybe she’ll feel like eating something. If you don’t mind, son, also clean up the kitchen.”

Hoss rolled his eyes, but nodded his head in the affirmative. Ben smiled at his agreeable son. Ben’s wives may have been taken early, but they left him sons who were true blessings.

Ben poked his head into Joe’s room. “I see you’re awake. Can you handle eating a soft-boiled egg?”

“Maybe a little later.”

“How’s the pain?”

“Under control for now.  Pa, do you have time to talk?”

“Of course, Son.”

Ben walked into the room and sat down on Joe’s bed. He did a quick check for a fever. Thankfully, Joe felt cool to the touch. 

“What would you like to talk about?“

“First, I’ve been wondering what made you and Hoss come out here?”

“Joseph, one day when you’re a father, you’ll learn to read between the lines. As soon as I read your telegram, ‘Everything is under control,’ I knew something was wrong. Call it a father’s intuition. I’ve learned to read my youngest son pretty well.”

Joe smiled for a brief moment. 

Then Ben could see Joe’s chin begin to quiver. That was always a sure sign his son was fighting to control his emotions. 

“I didn’t want to kill Lonnie. We had been like brothers. He didn’t give me a choice.”

 A tear rolled down Joe’s cheek. Using his thumb, Ben wiped it away.

“Joe.” Ben said, “You didn’t have a choice. Lonnie’s scars from the fire not only physically disfigured him, but also twisted his mind. He was a tortured young man which distorted his thinking. He was no longer the Lonnie we knew. You did what you had to do.”

“You know, Pa, I think Lonnie wanted me to kill him. Right before he died, his eyes locked onto mine. They were filled with gratitude.”

This last vision that flashed before Joe’s eyes, mixed with memories of good times shared by friends who were more like brothers,  shattered Joe’s resolve.  Despite his best efforts, tears streamed down his face.

Ben gathered his broken child into his arms, “Let it out, son!”

Joe accepted his father’s comfort and then reined in his emotions.  He looked up at his pa, his eyes glistening with tears. In those same eyes, beyond the sadness, were love and gratitude. 

“Thanks Pa!”

“I’m so proud of you, Joe! You risked your life trying to save Steve, Sam, and the Paiutes. Because of you, Sam is safe and Lonnie was released from his torturous life. You’re a hero, Joseph.

Ben stroked Joe’s hair.  He knew he couldn’t take his son’s pain away, but he could offer comfort and support to soothe Joe’s trauma.  

Knowing how important it was for Joe to regain his strength, Ben said, “How about that egg now?”

“Alright!  Pa, can you help me up so I can see Sam?”

“Joe, you’re weak from loss of blood, and on top of that, you’re almost naked.”

“It’s okay, Pa. Sam’s seen me like this before.”

“Can’t wait to hear this story!”

“I don’t share everything with you!”

Ben raised his eyebrows and gave Joe a playful smirk.  It was good to see his son joking.

“Honestly, Joe, let’s wait another day. Humor your father.  Rest and build up your strength.  Plus tomorrow you’ll have clothes on!”

“Very funny, Pa!”

The next day, a private funeral was held. Ben and Hoss stood by Joe and Sam providing them with both physical and emotional support.  Ben gave a beautiful eulogy for Steve and Lonnie. Sam found comfort in his words. 

Joe gently guided Sam away from the graves before the coffins were covered with dirt. They headed for the bench under the tall pine tree. Joe’s energy was just about spent and he needed to sit.

“Joe, I’ve decided to give the ranch to George. After learning who he is and what he did to secure peace, he deserves the land. Jim and John can stay on if they wish.  Perhaps they’ll bring some of their people here as well. Hopefully, they will have happy experiences like Pa, Lonnie, and I did. 

“You know, Sam,  Pa said you can live with us or at least stay until you’re ready to decide what you want to do.”

“I’m going to live with my aunt, my mother’s sister, in San Francisco. I don’t want any reminders of what happened.”

In a shaky, hesitant voice, Sam struggled with her next words,  “That includes you, Joe. As much as I would have loved to explore where our relationship could have gone, our connection holds too much sadness and pain. Lonnie’s death would always be between us.”

“Sam, I didn’t want to kill him!”

“Oh, Joe,  I’m not blaming you at all.  You saved my life!  Lonnie didn’t give you a choice.”

“Pa said the same thing.”

“That’s because it’s the truth.  I hope you truly believe it.”

“The reason I can’t be with you or your family is because it would be a constant reminder of the horrific tragedy of losing Lonnie and my father.  I need to get as far away as possible from this nightmare.  Do you understand, Joe?”

“Yes, I do understand, Sam, but I love you!” 

Sam and Joe fought to control the tears welling up in their eyes.  

“And I you, Joe! You’ll always have a big piece of my heart!”

Silence fell upon the friends.

Then Joe perked up, “Let’s try to enjoy our time together before we all leave.”

“Joe…”

“No more words are necessary, Samantha.”

The young friends held each other tightly. Their tears spilling over symbolized the loss they were feeling for what could have been. 

“I wish with all my heart things were different.  I have loved you since I was that little, annoying nine-year-old girl on the Ponderosa.”

“You were annoying, weren’t you?” 

Sam smacked Joe on the arm, and their tears quickly turned to laughter.  

“Maybe one day, Joe…!”

A passionate kiss sealed their everlasting love.

Epilogue 

A week after the funeral, Joe was well enough to travel home to the Ponderosa. Before leaving, the Cartwrights put Samantha on the stagecoach to San Francisco. Steve indeed had gold hidden in a safe place in the house.  It had been set aside for his children. Sam would be financially secure for life now. The goodbyes were very emotional. Even though Sam had said, “Maybe one day, Joe…!”  they both knew in their hearts they would never see each other again. They shared too much sadness and pain.

During the week preceding their departures,  Joe, Sam, and George testified against John, Larry, and Harry Barry. John Barry was found guilty of murder since his actions were the direct cause of Steve dying. The elder Barry was sentenced to death and hanged the next day. Neither Sam nor the Cartwrights attended. Larry and Harry were sent to prison for fifteen years for their involvement in the plot to kill Steve, Sam, Jim, and John.  Sheriff Brown turned out to be a pretty decent man after all. 

Before the Cartwrights left, George told Joe that the story John Barry shared about Joaquin Jim was half true. He and his sons did supply him with food and other items, but there was never a plot to kill the Davis family. Joe shook his head thinking about how they believed that tall tale. The flashback of bursting into Steve’s house thinking that Jim was this Joaquin guy and picturing the broth flying through the air, put a smile on Joe’s face. 

Heartfelt goodbyes took place between the Cartwrights and the Paiutes. George and Joe had forged an especially deep bond. Sam was right, her Indian ranch hands were truly good men. 

The End

Author’s notes: 

Some history was infused into this fictional story.

During the Civil War, Dr. Gurdon Buck was a prominent figure in pioneering plastic surgery, particularly for facial reconstruction.

The Owens Valley Indian War was also known as the Owens Valley Paiute War. It arose over land and resources as more settlers moved into the region.  Settlers and the US Army fought against the Indians from 1862-1863. However, small skirmishes continued in the area until 1867.

Joaquin Jim was an Eastern Mono war chief from the Owens Valley region of California. He actively fought against the settlers and the US Army refusing to surrender or make peace. He continued fighting until 1864, and was never captured. There’s nothing definitive to say how he died, however one account suggests it was from overeating! Another says he was killed by one of his own warriors.

Captain George was the Paiute war chief leader who initiated peace talks with the US military at Camp Independence in 1863 and effectively ended the war.

Published by smp4ever

Bonanza is like comfort food for me. Watching the reruns brings me back to my childhood when Little Joe first rode into the heart of a little nine year old girl. Joining Just Joe in March of 2024 has been beneficial, enjoyable, and therapeutic for me. I began writing fanfiction last year. This is my sixth story. I also participated in the round robin with two other members. The writing experience has been both challenging and rewarding. The weekly drabbles we’ve been doing are so much easier!! However, I love when a new story comes to life. It really is like watching a brand new episode.