MENDED FENCES

By Carla Keehn

* * *

It was early in the morning. Griff King watched the injured bird furiously beat its wings against the wooden cage. For a moment, he considered unfastening the door and setting the bird free but then thought better of it. If he was trapped in this prison called the Ponderosa why should he do a kindness and allow the bird to escape from the cage?

Released into Ben Cartwright's custody after a riot at the Nevada State Prison, the adjustment from prison life to life on the largest ranch in the Nevada territory was slow for Griff. He reached again for the cage, then stopped. A fiery pain moved up his arm, a souvenir of his encounter yesterday with several of the ranch hands. Their relentless harassment hadn’t made it any easier to make a place for himself in the family life of the Ponderosa. He gingerly messaged his left forearm and glanced around. Forced to care from himself at an early age, no one had ever before offered Griff anything without a price. And although Ben Cartwright had asked nothing of him in return, Griff was still wary and unsure about his new home.

The barn door creaked and a thin ray of sunlight crept in.

Sixteen year old Jamie Cartwright paused, carefully eyeing the man who stood in front of him. His face fell; he hadn’t taken much of a liking to this person who had returned to the ranch several months ago with his father and brother. I wish that Pa hadn’t said that the Ponderosa was supposed to be Griff’s home too . . . he thought with a sigh.

Jamie tried to ignore the angry expression on the man’s face.

“You do this?” Griff said, pointing to the cage.

Not again . . . Jamie thought miserably, debating whether or not he should just leave and go back into the house. The only thing Griff seemed to enjoy was taking out his dislike of his new home on everyone around him. Jamie frowned. Dadburnit, Griff makes it so hard to be friendly . . .

“I - I didn’t make the cage, Hoss did.” The youth paused. Even though it had been seven months since his brother had died, it was still hard for Jamie to talk about him. “I bandaged the bird’s leg . . .”

He made a wry face. “You Cartwrights are all alike . . .” The pain in his arm stabbed at Griff, making his tongue sharp. “But then I guess you gotta try as hard as you can to be just like’em if you want to keep on the old man’s good side.”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, kid; you can’t be that slow. Haven’t you figured out yet that taking in strays is what makes Ben Cartwright look good?”

“No, you’re wrong!” Jamie protested, shaking his head. “Pa’s not like that at all!”

“You’re the one who’s got it wrong - -” Griff continued his tirade, not hearing the youth’s words. “Why else would the old man bother with a kid like you? Just what did you have to do to get the old man to agree to adopt you anyway? Don’t tell me you believe that story about him feeling something for you; men like Cartwright don’t care about anyone but themselves and their money - -”

That’s it - - the youth thought, flushed with anger. Every other time he had held his tongue as he listened to Griff’s demoralizing words about his family. Not anymore . . . Jamie thought, balling his fists. I’m not gonna listen to him say bad things about my Pa . . .

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Jamie realized that someone was standing beside him. He felt a gentle squeeze on his arm. “I’ve been looking for you, little brother,” the calm voice said.

Jamie let out a breath and glanced up, relief evident in his face. “Joe . . .”

“Yeah . . .” Joe said, giving his brother an encouraging pat on the back. He looked daggers at the man standing next to the workbench. “Well go on, Griff, don’t let my being here stop you. I’m kind of interested in hearing what you were going to say next.”

Griff glanced at the pained expression on Jamie’s face, then at Joe defiantly. “I’m finished - - I think I made myself clear . . .”

“You got one part right - - you are finished,” Joe snapped. “And I think we’ve heard enough of your opinions about Pa and everyone else around here!”

Griff shrugged. “I don’t care what you or anyone else in your family thinks - -”

The man’s arrogance and the pain it had so plainly caused his brother made Joe’s blood boil. He took a threatening step forward, then stopped. No, he thought, even though nothing would make me happier right now than to teach Griff some manners, that’s not the way to handle it . . .

Jamie swallowed hard and glanced nervously back and forth at the two, certain they would come to blows.

“I’m warning you, Griff,” Joe continued harshly, “don’t push me too far - - or you just might wake up one day and find yourself on your way back to that prison - -” He took a deep breath, then nodded towards the front yard. “The men have finished loading the supplies - start heading out to the East pasture. I want that wagon unloaded by the time I get there.”

Griff protested. “I ain’t had any breakfast yet.”

“So?” Joe gave the man a contemptuous look. “Jamie and me have heard enough out of you for one day - - we’re not gonna listen to you at the breakfast table too. I’ll make your excuses to Pa for you - now get going!”

Griff turned on his heels and left, giving the two brothers a withering look as he passed by.

Joe fought to regain his composure. The wagon groaned in protest as it rushed past the barn and out of the yard at a breakneck speed. He turned back and saw Jamie shudder.

“Let it go, little brother - - he’s not worth it . . .” Joe said, messaging the youth’s shoulder. “Griff doesn’t understand how Pa is and he probably never will.”

“Why did Pa have to bring him here, Joe? Why?” Jamie shook his head in despair. “Things were just starting to be okay again.”

“Yeah, I know.” He frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me Griff was doing this to you, Jamie? This isn’t the first time, is it.”

Jamie gave a vague shrug. “He did it three, maybe four times before. . . You’ve been so busy, I didn’t want to bother you so I thought I’d try and handle it by myself.”

Jamie had been so quiet the past few weeks, he should have known that something was wrong. Hoss would have seen there was a problem right

away . . . Joe thought sadly.

“I’m glad you’re looking out for me, little brother, but I’m supposed to be watching out for you too, remember?” He affectionately tousled the boy’s hair. “I can’t do that, if you don’t give me the chance.”

Jamie managed a weak smile. “I get what you’re sayin’, Joe. Next time I’ll come tell you when something’s wrong.”

Joe looked past Jamie towards the house, a worried expression on his face. “I think maybe it’s time that I talked to talk to Pa about Griff.”

“But Pa said . . .”

“I remember what he said about wanting Griff to feel comfortable here. But I think that this time Griff has gone too far . . .”

Later, Joe's eyes flashed angrily at his father as he leaned forward in the chair next to the desk "I just don't think it's right to keep him on! He's made it clear that he doesn't like it here and I don't think he ever will - -"

The silver haired man frowned and set aside the deed he had been concentrating on. "Don't you think you're being a little unfair to Griff, Joe?” He paused, studying his son intently for a moment. “He's only been here a couple of months."

"Unfair?" Joe rose from his seat. "C'mon, Pa, is it fair for the rest of us to put up with how rude he is? And what about those things he’s been saying to Jamie, is that fair?"

"No,” Ben said with a grim expression on his face. “I wish Jamie had said something to one of us before this; I’m going to talk to him about that today when he gets home from school.” Ben sighed heavily and shook his head. “But as for the rest of it . . . Joseph, please - this has been a difficult time for us all. You have every right to feel the way you do, but I'm asking you to be patient. I need your help, son."

"I'm sorry, Pa - -I'm sorry for losing my temper like that.” His anger spent, Joe slumped back down into the chair. “I just don't think it's a good idea for Griff to be here, not so soon after . . ."

"So soon after Hoss’s death?" Ben finished softly.

Joe swallowed hard and looked away. "Yes . . ."

"I take it that Jamie feels the same way you do?"

"I think so. He’s been so quiet lately, I’m not real sure what’s on his mind these days."

He looked at his son sympathetically. "Being the older brother isn't always easy, is it, son."

"No, Pa.” Joe shook his head forlornly. “Hoss always knew the right thing to do or say, no matter what was going on. I wish I could say the same thing."

The pain he heard in his son’s voice made Ben’s heart heavy. "It sounds to me like you're doing a fine job, Joe." He got up from behind the desk and walked back and forth for a minute. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it is too soon.”

Taken hostage during the prison riot, Ben Cartwright had quietly observed Griff King and sensed that beneath the tough exterior was a good man, who had been dealt some bitter cards in his life. Griff had endured the squalid conditions of the poorly run State Prison for four years. After the new warden had asked what four more years of prison life would do to the young man, Ben had agreed to the warden’s suggestion that Griff be released into his custody.

I expected there to be problems, but nothing like this, Ben thought. The tension had been slowly building between his oldest son and the newest resident of the Ponderosa for weeks. At first, Ben had hesitated to interfere, trusting that Joe would find a way to work out the differences between the two of them. But Joe was still struggling to cope with Hoss’s death and the new responsibilities it had brought upon him; Ben could see that he hadn’t made things any easier for his son by not stepping in sooner.

“Perhaps it would be easier for Griff to make some decisions about his future if he's not at the Ponderosa. Maybe he’d be happier staying with some of our friends in San Francisco. Let me give the idea a bit more thought."

“I think that will be best for all of us, Pa.” Joe glanced at the grandfather clock by the door. "I didn't realize it was so late - I was supposed to meet Candy and Griff at the East pasture a half hour ago."

Ben shook his head. "Just a minute, Joe. I said that I would think about what you said, but in the meantime, I want you to promise me that you’ll do something.”

"Sure, Pa, just name it."

"I want your word that you will make a genuine effort to settle your differences with Griff.” He looked at his son sympathetically. “I understand how you and Jamie feel and I want to make things as easy as possible on the both of you. But you have to remember that the burden is not only on Griff to make this arrangement work, but on us as well. Do you think it would be fair for him to leave, knowing that we didn’t do all that we could to make Griff feel that this was his home?"

"No -” He mumbled, sighing heavily. “I guess not. I’ll do the best I can, Pa.”

"I know you will, son,” Ben said encouragingly. “You'd better get going - And keep an eye out for those prospectors you ran into a couple of days ago. Candy said this morning that they looked to him like they were going to be trouble."

Joe frowned; he had left that information out deliberately when he had made mention about the men that had been caught trespassing on Ponderosa land, wanting to spare his father any additional worry.

“I don’t think they’ll be back, Pa,” Joe said, pausing at the door. “See you at supper.”

* * * *

Later, the two grizzled prospectors watched from the brush as the lone rider on the paint horse galloped past at a fast gait.

“There he is,” the man commented with a hostile look. “Goin’ to meet up with those other two, I reckon.”

“We gonna take’em now?” The other asked excitedly.

“Naw, I reckon we wait. Little bit later on, they’s gonna be tired, gonna let their guard down some.”

“You sure this is gonna work? Suppose Cartwright tries to run us off again?”

The man gave his partner an annoyed look. “He ain’t gonna do that, not this time.” He stroked the hilt of the rifle laying on the ground in between them. “Last time, he caught us whiles we was pannin’ in the stream; we weren’t ready for no callers.”

“I don’t like it . . .” The other said fretfully. “We get caught trespassin’, that means we’s gonna get mixed up with the law. I ain’t lookin’ to spend any more time in jail.”

“Law? The Good Book says that the things of this here earth was made for all men, don’t it? That means that Cartwright feller ain’t got no right to tell us where we can and can’t do our prospectin’.” The man lifted the rifle and smiled. “No, this time we’re gonna let this here rifle do all our talkin’ for us . . .”

* * * *

Meanwhile, Griff closed his eyes as another wave of pain shot through him. He ran the back of his hand across his sweaty face.

Candy looked up from his work and noticed that Griff’s attention was elsewhere. He picked up a water canteen from the back of the wagon and tossed it towards the man. “Hey! You want to give me a hand here?”

Too late, Griff spotted the object hurling towards him out of the corner of his eye. He tried to stifle a grunt of pain as the canteen hit him in his sore arm. “What did you do that for?”

“You’re hurt . . .” Candy said, concerned. “Take the jacket off and let me see.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, pulling away.

“Look, Griff, that might work on the others, but not me. We’ve known each other too long to play those games - - now take off the jacket.”

Griff recalled how he and Candy had worked together ten years earlier in Billings at a small ranch. The two drifters had each seen a kindred soul in the other and struck up a friendship that had been rekindled when Griff came to the Ponderosa. But Candy’s not the same man that he was back then, he’s more settled now . . . Griff thought, being here has changed him . . . He knew that he couldn’t have stuck things out for the past couple of months without Candy’s encouragement.

Reluctantly, Griff peeled off the tan jacket and tossed it to the ground. He rolled up his shirtsleeve and saw Candy grimace as he eyed the red, blistered skin on Griff’s forearm.

“That’s a bad burn . . . how did it happen?”

“Dunno . . . guess I had an accident while I was doing some blacksmithing yesterday.”

“Strange place to accidentally burn yourself - - unless you had some help.” Candy looked at him suspiciously. “Tell me the truth, Griff. The hands are still giving you a rough time, aren’t they.”

“Drop it, Candy - it’s nothing that I can’t handle.”

A few minutes later, Joe arrived. He dismounted from the paint horse and led Cochise into the shade, looping the horse’s reins around one of the low hanging branches.

“What happened?” Joe asked, looking at Candy.

“Griff was just sayin’ that he had an accident,” Candy said.

Joe stared at the seared skin on Griff’s arm and winced. “Some of Hop Sing’s ointment’ll probably fix that right up.”

“I’ll get the first aid stuff from the wagon,” Candy volunteered.

“You know, I can’t figure you out,” Griff said insolently. “One minute you’re threatening to send me back to that prison then the next you’re trying to help me.”

“You’re hurt,” Joe said, “and you need help. How I feel about things doesn’t change that. Besides, I don’t want you using that arm as an excuse for tryin’ to get out of doing a day’s work.”

“I’ll do my share - -” Griff shoved Joe away. “Without any help from you!”

Candy grabbed the leather satchel from the back of the wagon. He saw Griff shove Joe and shook his head. Two stubborn mules . . . he thought, as he walked towards them. There’s got to be a way to get those two to work things out before one of them kills the other . . .

“Want me to finish, Joe?” Candy asked.

“Yeah, Candy, thanks,” Joe muttered, turning away. “I’ll take care of unloading the wagon . . .”

Candy opened the satchel. “Hold your arm still, this’ll hurt some,” he said, uncorking a small brown bottle. He felt Griff’s arm stiffen for a minute as the murky colored liquid oozed out of the bottle onto the wound. “Joe really was trying to help you, you know that don’t you?”

“Don’t start in on me, Candy - - I don’t need help from the Cartwrights or anyone else!” Annoyed, he glared at his friend. “And I don’t take charity . . .”

“I’ve told you over and over that the Cartwright’s aren’t offering you charity! You’re gonna have to work, hard, to make a place for yourself here.” His expression softened. “Griff, what happened in the past is behind you. The Cartwrights are good people; you can trust them.”

“As far as I’m concerned, this place isn’t any better than that prison was.”

“Griff, when are you goin’ to stop feeling sorry for yourself and admit that coming here is the best thing that could have happened to you?” He wrapped the bandage around Griff’s arm. “Look, I know how you feel because I felt the same way when I came here.” He grinned. “When I first met the Cartwrights and saw what a close family they were, I didn’t plan on staying more than a couple of months.”

“Then why did you stay?”

“Because I realized that I finally found a place where people didn’t expect me to be any different from who I am.” Candy’s face grew serious. “There’s a place here for you too, Griff, if you want it. But it means you’re gonna have to trust people and let them see how you feel; and they’ve gotta feel like they can trust you too.”

“Joe and I will never be able to do that, Candy.”

He frowned. “I’m worried, Griff, that if you keep on the way you are, then you and Joe won’t ever settle things.” Candy tied the bandage then scooped the jacket off the ground and held it out. “There, that should do it. You know, Griff, Joe’s hurting really bad. Not only because of losing Hoss but also because of all the extra work he’s had to take on. He thinks he’s hiding it, but it’s easy to see.” He looked at his friend in concern. “All I’m asking you to do is try. I’ve never been sorry that I decided to put down roots here and I don’t think you will be either.”

Meanwhile, Joe had finished unloading the wagon and was looking at the trickle of water that seeped through the wall of rocks. He shook his head at the sight of the blocked stream bed. “Looks like it’s going to take a couple of days to get this cleared out.”

Candy nodded. “Would have been worse if you hadn’t caught those prospectors when you did and run them off. Think they’ll come back?”

“I don’t know. Guess that depends on how convinced they are that there’s something here worth coming back for.” He took off his green jacket and tossed it into the back of the wagon. “We’ve lost enough time, let’s get started. I didn’t think I’d be tied up with Pa for as long as I was.”

"Don't worry about it, Joe," Candy said, good naturedly. "You didn't think we were gonna go ahead and start before you got here, did you?"

The light hearted bantering did little to penetrate the bad feelings between Joe and Griff.

The three men labored for hours to move the heavy stones until finally it was time to take a well deserved break. The lunch basket Hop Sing had prepared was well stocked with fried chicken and other delicious foods; the hungry men devoured its contents quickly.

Afterwards, Joe settled back against a tree and gave Candy a nudge. “Griff seems pretty quiet . . .”

Candy nodded, watching as Griff bent down beside the stream and splashed some of the cool water on his face. “Yeah, he’s got a lot on his mind right now.” Candy wiped his forehead with a red kerchief. “I know you and Griff got off to a bad start, but maybe you should give him another chance, Joe. I remember how it feels to come to a place like this, after being on the outside for so long and then have to make a new life for yourself.”

“It doesn’t seem to me that he’s making much of an effort.”

“He is trying, Joe, the best way he can right now.” Candy looked at his friend with concern. “Look, I know how hard things have been lately and it doesn’t help to have Griff throw everything that you and your Pa are doing for him back in your face.”

I don’t know, Candy. I wanted to strangle him this morning, after hearing those things he said about Pa . . .”

“What he did wasn’t right, Joe. And deep down, Griff knows that too. That’s why I think he needs a little more time. You did the same thing for me even though your Pa and I argued all the time at first.”

“That was different . . .”

“No, it isn’t any different!” Candy interrupted. “It just seems that way now because we’re friends.”

Joe weighed Candy’s words carefully for a moment. “I’ll think about it. . .” His muscles protested painfully as he got to his feet. He didn’t want to tell Candy that in a couple of weeks Griff probably wouldn’t be with them.

By late afternoon, thick billows of angry thunder clouds began marching slowly across the sky until they totally blotted out the clear blue skies and warming rays of the sun.

Candy looked at Joe and frowned. “What do you think?”

“I was hopin’ we could finish today, but I don’t like the looks of that sky. We’d better head back to the ranch.”

A shot rang out. Joe looked up as the bullet bounced off of one of the rocks and saw the two men emerge from the brush.

“Drop them gunbelts, nice and slow, boys,” The prospector said, rifle in hand. “That last shot was just a warnin’; next time I use this, I ain’t gonna miss . . .”

* * * *

Meanwhile, at the house, a downcast Jamie Cartwright slipped into the kitchen through the back door. The air was heavy with the smell of freshly baked cookies. He threw his school books on the table and slumped down in one of the chairs.

The Ponderosa’s cook, Hop Sing, finished putting another tray of cookies in the oven and looked up. "You home late today."

Jamie nodded slowly. "I took the long way home. I had some thinkin’ to do."

"For young boy, you think too much.” The Chinese man put a glass of milk and a plate of cookies on the table in front of the youth. “You eat some of Hop Sing's cookies - make you feel better."

Jamie scowled; at sixteen years of age, he didn’t consider himself to be a young boy. "I don't want any.” He looked at the food and made a face. “Thanks anyway, Hop Sing."

Sitting at his desk, Ben Cartwright looked up as the sound of the voices in the kitchen caught his attention. He quietly rose from his chair and walked across the room. From the doorway, he watched the two converse for a few moments. Ben saw Hop Sing brush a hand across his youngest son's forehead.

"You no eat - you sick!"

"I ain't sick, Hop Sing!” Jamie forcefully pushed Hop Sing's hand away. “I'm not very hungry today, is all."

Ben saw that Hop Sing was losing his patience. "Would you excuse us for a minute, Hop Sing?"

Hop Sing put his hands on his hips and gave his employer a look of annoyance. "Mr. Cartwright - - Jamie no like Hop Sing's cooking no more!"

"Now, Hop Sing - you know there's nothing wrong with your cooking,” Ben said calmly, putting his arm around the irate man and steering him towards the door. “If you would please leave us alone for a few minutes, there’s something I need to talk to Jamie about."

He glared at the youth. "Hop Sing go live with cousin, cook for family that appreciate him!" He opened the back door and went outside, loudly muttering in Chinese. The door closed behind him with a loud slam.

"I think Hop Sing’s feelings are hurt.”

Jamie glanced at the back door and let out a breath. "I didn't do it on purpose, Pa."

"I know you didn't." He studied the boy for a moment. In the intervening months since Hoss’s death, his youngest son had grown from an adolescent teenager into a strong young man. "You've been kind of quiet the past couple of days, Jamie. Something on your mind?"

"No, sir.” Jamie nervously picked at the leather strap tied around the books. “I don't think so."

"I know that something is bothering you, son. It might help if you talk about it."

"It's nothing, Pa." He rose from his seat. "I've got a lot of homework to do . . ."

Ben shook his head. "The homework can wait. Come here, Jamie."

Jamie reluctantly walked over and stood in front of his father.

"Sometimes the words a man uses can cause more harm than a rifle or any other firearm he may carry.” Ben saw Jamie look up at him in surprise. “Joe told me about the run-in you had with Griff this morning.”

"I guess I should have come and told you what was happening.” He looked anxiously at his father. “I was goin’ to, but then I remembered you sayin’ how important it was for Griff to feel like this was his home."

“Well, I did say that, son, but that doesn’t excuse what he did.” He looked at Jamie with concern. “Those things that Griff said to you . . . Jamie, there was never any question about how I felt . . . ”

Jamie shook his head. “No - - that’s not what’s wrong, Pa! I know all that stuff he said about you not really caring about me isn’t true.” He gave his father an anguished look. “It’s just that he's always saying things like that, not just about you, but about Joe too." He swallowed hard. "It's hard enough tryin’ to get used to Hoss not being here. But Griff acts like he’s the only one that’s havin’ a bad time."

“I think the problem is that Griff’s been dealing with things alone for so long that hurting others is his way of protecting himself."

"But that don't make it right for him to do and say the things he does, does it?"

Ben shook his head. "No, it doesn't. But it does mean that we might have to overlook some of the things he says for a while until he gets used to the idea that he’s not on his own anymore."

"I guess you’re right. Somedays I don’t feel like I'll ever get used to the way things are now. Griff must feel kinda the same way."

"I know it's hard, son,” Ben said, putting his hand on the youth’s shoulder comfortingly. “We’re all struggling to get used to . . . the changes. But I'm afraid, Jamie, that this is only going to be one of many difficult times in your life."

“I just miss Hoss so much, Pa . . .” Jamie said tearfully.

“We all do . . .” Ben swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. He closed his eyes as he hugged Jamie tightly and took a deep breath. Worse than the pain of losing Hoss was having to watch his other two sons wrestle each day with the burden of grief they carried.

I have to be strong . . . he thought, trying to calm his emotions, that’s the only way I can help them . . . “Together we’ll find a way to get through this, Jamie. It might take some time, son, but things won’t always be the way they are now.”

Jamie nodded. “I know you’re right, Pa.” He wiped the tears from his face. “It’s just hard to remember that sometimes . . .”

Suddenly a loud crack of thunder filled the air. Ben glanced out the window at the overcast sky. “I hope the boys make it back before this storm breaks.”

“Do you think we should go look for them?”

“No, I expect they’ll be along soon.” He patted his son encouragingly. “You’d best get busy with that homework. I’ll take a look at it after supper.”

“Yes, sir,” Jamie said, grabbing the books off the table before leaving the room.

With a heavy heart, Ben turned his attention back to the threatening skies outside . . .

* * * *

At the same time, Joe glanced at Candy as the two held the gunbelts in their hands, dangling down at their side. “I told you before that you’re trespassing on private property.”

The man laughed as he jabbed is partner in the side. “Hear that, Carson? Rich boy says we ain’t welcome here. Guess he don’t cotton to us tryin’ to make a livin’.”

“Seems that way, don’t it, Murdock.”

“We ain’t interested in hearin’ more of your talk, Cartwright. Now throw them gunbelts down, nice and easy, like I told you.”

“All right . . .” Joe replied with a curt nod. Instantaneously, he and Candy threw the gunbelts at the rifle, startling the two prospectors.

The rifle went off with the faintest of sounds, it’s roar swallowed up by the booms of thunder that danced overhead. The three charged forward. Out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw Griff’s face contort with pain as one of the prospectors rammed his fist into Griff’s midsection. Candy hauled the man off of Griff. Carson, a slightly built man, was no match for him and was easily overpowered. Meanwhile, Joe wrestled fiercely for the rifle that hovered dangerously between him and the other man.

Panting for breath, Candy got up and kicked at the man viciously. “On your feet!”

Another shot rang out, distracting Candy’s attention. He looked over and saw Joe’s body stiffen. Suddenly the two prospectors were up and running towards the wagon. Candy scooped up the rifle and fired as the wagon started with a jerk, then moved quickly away.

The bullet found it’s mark; hit in the back, Carson fell off and hit the ground. The body rolled a few yards then became still. The wagon continued on at a furious pace.

Candy knelt down beside Joe. Griff struggled to his feet and was soon beside him.

“You okay?” Candy asked.

“Yeah . . .” He nodded his head. “What about the other one, we should go after him.”

Candy looked down at Joe and shook his head grimly. “No . . .” The blood was already seeping through Joe’s shirt from the wound in his side. “I can’t tell how bad Joe’s hurt but with the way he’s bleeding, I think he needs to be tended to fast.”

“Out here? That storm’s gonna be down on us any minute.”

Candy shook his head. “There’s a line shack not to far from here. We can ride out the worst of it there. Once the storm eases up, I’ll head back to the ranch to get some help.”

“I’ll go.” Griff said. The last thing he wanted at that moment was to have to play nursemaid for the man he had been at odds with for the past two months. “He’d be more comfortable if you stayed with him.”

Candy looked at Joe anxiously Both he and Griff were his friends. Maybe this is the only way. . . Candy thought, glancing at Griff warily. Alone together, they’ll have to work things out . . .

“No, I know the Ponderosa better than you do. I’ll go. I’m counting on you to look after Joe while I’m gone.” A large drop of rain hit him in the back. Candy pointed towards the horses that were neighing nervously. “Get them up here - - we’ve got to get out of here . . .”

* * * *

Several hours later, a worried Ben Cartwright opened the front door and stepped out onto the front porch. They would have been back by now . . . if they were coming back at all, he thought ruefully. The loud sound of the clatter of dishes drifted out towards him as Hop Sing made the final preparations for the evening meal. He tried to dismiss from his mind the troubling thoughts that stabbed at him.

“Pa?”

Ben turned; he hadn’t heard Jamie come up beside him.

“Pa, Hop Sing wants to know how many places he should set for supper.”

He put his arm around Jamie’s shoulder and sighed. “I think it’s just going to be the two of us tonight.”

Ben thought he detected a note of fear in his son’s voice. “Something bad’s happened to them, hasn’t it, Pa.”

All afternoon, He had felt an unsettled feeling around him that he had not been able to shrug off. He suddenly realized that Jamie must have sensed the same thing and shook his head. “No,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as his son. “They probably decided that they wouldn’t make it back before the storm broke and took shelter until it eases up some.” He patted the boy on the back. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, son. You go tell Hop Sing; I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

Ben looked at the torrential rain which poured down from the sky as he tried to convince himself that he had no reason for worry. This isn’t the first time that Joe and Candy have been caught by a change in the weather, he thought, and Griff is with them . . . But the pain from Hoss’s sudden death had left its mark. I’ve already buried one son, he thought in agony, I - I don’t want to lose anyone else . . .

He closed his eyes in silent appeal. Dear God - - please - -watch over them - - bring them back home safely - -

The sound of the crashing thunder was his only reply . . .

* * * * * *

Meanwhile, in the darkness of Joe’s mind, he forced his eyes to half open. He took faltering steps, his surroundings spinning dizzily in and out of focus around him. Joe stumbled, then felt himself falling. His hand groped wildly for support before coming to rest against something hard. Through the slits of his eyes, Joe tried to make out what had broken his fall. He paused to catch his breath, running his face across the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the beads of perspiration from his eyes. Glancing around slowly, a flicker of recognition came over him. Th-the doorway to my room . . . this is the Ponderosa . . . he thought, relief flooding through him, I’m home . . . If it weren’t for the stabbing pain he felt boring into his side, he could almost make himself believe that everything he remembered happening was a bad dream.

A familiar face was watching him. Weary and sick, Joe choked back a sob and reached out to his older brother for comfort.

“Joe!” Hoss Cartwright looked up and took a sharp breath, shocked at his brother’s deteriorated condition. Then he rushed to the door, to his ailing brother’s side.

The last of Joe’s ebbing strength gave way. “Hoss . . .help . . . me . . .” He clutched at Hoss’s arm, leaving a bloody handprint on the sleeve. “I’ve been shot . . .”

“I’m right here, little brother . . .”

Little brother . . . Those words brought bittersweet memories to the surface in Joe’s mind of a time when life was so much simpler for all of them.

“Lean on me, Joe,” Hoss said, wrapping his arm around Joe’s waist. “I got you - - I ain’t gonna let you fall - -”

Joe closed his eyes and nodded weakly, slumping against his older brother. I don’t have to be strong anymore . . . he thought. Hoss is here, he’ll make sure things are okay . . .

The months he had spent not allowing himself to feel or think about anything besides taking care of his father and younger brother were finally behind him.

“I’m scared, Hoss,” Joe said in a trembling voice.

“I know you are,” Hoss soothed, taking Joe’s hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s get you over to the bed so you can rest some while we talk.” Slowly, Hoss steered Joe over to the bed then eased him against the soft pillows.

“ . . . feels better . . .” Joe murmured, settling back contentedly.

“Joe, listen to me.” Hoss sat at the edge of the bed, his brother’s cold hand clutched tightly in his warm one. “Candy’s gone for help, you gotta hang on ‘til he gets back.”

Joe slowly shook his head, gritting his teeth as another pain tore through him. “C-can’t, Hoss . . . hurt . . .too bad . . .”

“No - - don’t say that, Joe!” Hoss whispered intensely. “I’m countin’ on you; countin’ on you an awful lot. You gotta look after Pa and Jamie, keep things going at the ranch.”

“That’s all . . . I’ve been doing since you left . . . keeping things going . . .” Months of pent up emotion began pouring out. “Nothing’s right, H-Hoss. Pa’s worried . . . Jamie’s keeping everything inside . . . can’t . .. can’t do it . . .” He twisted back and forth, frustrated. “. . . having Griff around is . . . making things worse - -”

“Joe, you been pushin’ yourself too hard, expectin’ too much too soon. Things’ll sort themselves out, you just gotta give it more time . . .”

“No . . . can’t . . . manage, Hoss . . . not as good as you did . . .”

“Dadburnit, Joe, you ain’t listenin’ to me!” Hoss set his jaw, a determined look on his face.. “Little brother, you ain’t in this alone. Things’ll be okay with Pa and Jamie just as long as you keep lookin’ out for each other. But Griff - well, bein’ alone is all he’s ever known.”

He swallowed hard, wishing there was something more he could do to ease Joe’s pain. “You gotta remember, Joe, that we’ve always been mighty lucky, ‘cause no matter what, we always got Pa and this place to come back to.”

“ . . .Not making any sense,” Joe whispered. “Hoss, there’s a bullet in me - - if you don’t help me - - I’m going to die.” He glanced around in confusion. “Where’s Pa? Why isn’t he here too? Doesn’t he know that I’m hurt?”

“I am tryin’ to help you, Joe. I know it don’t seem like it, but I am.” Hoss looked at his brother wistfully. “I wish I could stay here and take care of you ‘till Candy gets back but I can’t. . .” His voice broke. Hoss gave Joe’s hand one last squeeze before letting go of it. “I gotta go now, Joe,” he said, standing up. “Everything’ll be better soon; just stop expectin’ so much from yourself. And keep thinkin ‘bout how lucky we’ve been; it’ll help you understand more how Griff’s feelin’.”

He began walking towards the door.

Joe shouted in a painful voice. “Hoss, no! Don’t leave me! I don’t want you to go!”

Hoss paused and looked back one more time, his eyes brimming with tears. “I’m proud of you, little brother, mighty proud . . .”

The world around Joe began to change. Hoss disappeared as a veil of darkness descended around him.

“No, Hoss, don’t go . . .”

On the makeshift bed in the line shack, Joe twisted back and forth in his delirium.

“Just take it easy,” Griff murmured as he dipped the cloth in the basin of rain water and squeezed it tightly before placing the cloth across Joe’s forehead. A mixture of confusion and longing tugged at his insides as listened to the injured man call out to his family for help. Griff sighed heavily; he had stayed awake so many nights wondering what it would be like to have someone - - anyone - - look out for him the way the Cartwrights looked out for each other. He had long ago given up hope that something like that was possible for him.

The driving force of the wind slapped the rain against the window, interrupting his thoughts. Griff shivered; the dampness in the room wouldn’t go away despite the waves of heat that radiated from the fireplace in the middle of the room. I wish Candy would hurry . . . he thought as he lifted the corner of the thin blanket covering Joe. The bleeding was slowing down. But the ugly red streaks and swelling that were developing around the wound could only mean one thing; infection was setting in . . .

* * * *

The weak ray of light from the lantern at his side made little difference as Candy rode through the stormy night. The driving rain hammered against him as if trying to force him to give up. Candy felt the rain dribble down his back and pulled the collar of his jacket tighter around his neck, wishing that he was standing in front of the warm hearth back at the ranch house. Although he had tended to Joe’s injuries the best he could, he knew that time was against him. And then there was Griff, who had seemed so out of his depth at having to care for Joe. He was sorry now that he had left his two friends in such an uncomfortable spot.

As Candy came up over a slight hill, he saw a flickering glow in the clearing up ahead. Not too far from the campsite he saw the stolen wagon. Still hitched to the wagon, the team of horses had been left to endure the downpour without protection.

“Whoa, girl . . .” Candy murmured softly, patting his horse’s neck affectionately. He wrapped the reins loosely around a low hanging tree branch then crouched down. Cautiously, he crept through the dense thicket. The sight of the prospector dozing peacefully by the fire under the crudely fashioned tent raised Candy’s hackles. Then, suddenly, the man began to stir.

Candy watched as the prospector groggily looked around for a moment before reaching for the gun holstered at his side.

The prospector’s eyes widened in surprise. He heard a faint click, then felt the nuzzle of gun against his temple.

“All right, friend, I’ll take that rifle,” Candy hissed, “just hand it over, nice and easy . . .”

* * * *

At the same time, the throbbing pain forced Joe to regain consciousness. He groaned softly. “Hoss?” Joe whispered.

“You need to lay still . . .”

The voice was calm and quiet; but not the one he wanted to hear. Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw Griff’s face hovering over him.

No . . . Joe thought, feeling sick at heart, none of it was real . . . I wanted it to be

real . . . He glanced around at the cramped, dirty space that the storm had forced them to take shelter in and felt as if the ground had given way from under him. The feelings of security and comfort he had felt blanket him when he was with Hoss had been brutally ripped away, leaving Joe with an aching void inside.

“It’s not much, but it’s better than bein’ out there,” Griff said, moving towards the fire. A strong gust of wind made the window panes rattle as he knelt to ladle some liquid out of the steaming kettle on the grate into a tin cup. For a moment, the arrogant mask disappeared from Griff’s face.

In the dimness of the firelight, Joe briefly saw a troubled look on the man’s face. He’s just as afraid and unsure as I am . . .

“See if you can get some of this down,” Griff said, holding the cup up to Joe’s mouth. “We may be stuck here, but at least we won’t starve. I found some food and a few other supplies in that cupboard over there.”

“Thanks . . .” Joe nodded as he greedily swallowed the warming liquid that helped dispel the coldness that had settled over him. “One of Hoss’s ideas.”

“Your brother - - you were asking for him a while ago.”

“I was? You would have liked Hoss, everyone did. He had a way about him, of making a person feel comfortable right away.” Talking about it only made the ache of his loss worse. “How long have we been here?”

“Been two or three hours, maybe, since Candy left for help. Leastways it’s been dark that long”

“Two or three hours,” he muttered, “Pa must be out of his mind with worry by now, wondering where we are.”

“I don’t think Mr. Cartwright would be too upset if I didn’t come back,” Griff said in a caustic tone.

“That’s not Pa’s way,” the injured man protested, rising to his father’s defense.

“I’ll have to take your word on that.” Griff turned away and looked at the fire. “Seein’ as how I never had a Pa or anyone else to look after me.”

“No family at all?” Joe said, trying to remember a time when he wasn’t with his father or brothers.

“Ma was always busy, running her boarding house. My pa, well, I never knew him. He was a drifter who rented a room for a couple of nights. Ma never liked to say too much about him.” He turned back and looked at Joe with a bitter expression. “Had a step-father for a while though. Till he figured that lookin’ at me reminded him too much of all the other men Ma’d been with. That’s when he decided that I’d be better off in that prison.”

As Griff spoke, Joe thought back at what Hoss had said about how lucky the Cartwrights had been . . .

* * * *

Back at the campsite, the prospector looked up and nervously moistened his lips. “Go ‘head and shoot.”

“Nothing would make me happier right about now,” Candy said, “but that would be cheating the Cartwrights out of the pleasure of deciding what to do with you.”

“You’re a fool, son.” The man grinned and shook his head. “I would if it was me standin’ in your place, I’d a shot ya dead right off,” he taunted. “That’s what any man would rightly do.”

“You’re wasting time,” Candy barked, nudging the gun closer. “Now hand over the rifle - -”

“All right. I know better than to argue with the likes of you.” The man climbed to his feet with a groan, leaning on the rifle for support.

He saw the man suddenly stagger towards him; Candy’s aim faltered for a minute

“Whoa - -” The prospector mumbled, making a face as he put a hand on his chest. “All of a sudden, I ain’t feelin’ so good . . .”

Taken by surprise, Candy gasped as the man lunged forward, ramming the butt of the rifle into his stomach. The gun fell from his hand. He reeled backwards, his breath coming in short painful gasps.

The prospector looked pleased. “Now, son, I’ll be happy to show you how a real

man would handle things . . .”

Fighting back waves of pain, Candy lunged at the man. The two fell to the wet ground, the rifle laying within reach of either one of them. Back and forth, the two grappled with each other in the slippery muck until the prospector had maneuvered himself close enough to make a try for the rifle.

Just as his hand shot out towards it, Candy summoned his last ounce of strength and drove his fist into the man’s midsection. The prospector crumpled to the ground; Candy grabbed the rifle and leveled it at the man.

“D-don’t shoot, mister,” the prospector wailed, “wouldn’t be fair, shootin’ down an unarmed man.”

“That didn’t bother you when you shot my friend, now did it,” Candy growled.

“That was different, we was just tryin to . . .”

Candy hauled the man to his feet. “Save your story for the law!” He poked the rifle deep into the man’s back. “Now start heading for that wagon - - and don’t try anything . . .”

* * * *

Meanwhile, Griff’s words weighed heavily on Joe as he thought back at how even in the worst times of his life, he had never felt that he had to face anything alone. Until now. He was wounded; he could feel his body failing. Cut off from his family and his home, he realized for the first time how Griff must have felt, not only for the past two months, but all of his life.

It’s time to mend some fences, Joe thought, before it’s too late . . .

“Look, Griff,” he began tentatively, “I - I know that I’m hurt bad enough that I might not make it - -”

Griff remained silent. He had seen other men as seriously injured as Joe Cartwright was and knew, that without good medical care, death was all but certain.

The tense silence confirmed Joe’s worst fears. “That’s why I think there’s some things we need to settle.”

“Go on,” Griff said guardedly. Except for Candy, he had never allowed anyone to get close enough to see his feelings.

“It’s my fault things haven’t worked out for you. I could have made it easier for you, but I didn’t. I’ve been so worried how I felt that I never stopped to think about how difficult things must have been for you.”

The directness of Joe’s words caught him off guard. Griff had learned long ago not to set much store in any man’s words. But the realities of Joe’s physical condition made it hard not to believe that his words were genuine.

“Don’t blame Pa for my mistake,” Joe continued. “All he’s ever wanted is for you to feel like the Ponderosa was your home.”

Griff walked over and looked out the window as he wrestled with his feelings. The adverse circumstances of his life had left him disillusioned and afraid. Afraid that letting anyone see what he was thinking and feeling would only lead to more heartache. Then he had met the Cartwrights and seen how Candy had changed. For the first time in many years Griff began to think that another way of life was possible for him.

Maybe the time has finally come to stop running from the past, he thought.

“I reckon I gave you plenty of cause to feel the way you do. What you have here goes against anything I’ve ever known.” Griff leaned his head against the wall. “I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done and said since I got here. But I was angry not only because Mr. Cartwright brought me here, but because it also galled me to watch how he treated you and your brother. I never had anyone care about me like that, ever.”

“You do now . . .” Joe whispered. “I’ve been laying here, doing a lot of thinking. Losing Hoss was one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me. But I am grateful for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That as bad as that loss feels, I never had to go through it alone.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Whether I make it or not, you won’t have to face things on your own anymore either, Griff. Knowing that makes everything look different - you’ll see.”

The two became silent, each one mired in their own thoughts; one man forced to consider the possibility of a new life; the other the possibility of death . . .

* * * *

Later, Candy let out a stifled grunt of pain as the wagon came to a bumpy halt in front of the brightly lit ranch house. He slumped for a moment, gingerly rubbing his aching chest. Must have a couple of cracked ribs . . . he thought, glaring at the prospector who sat, bound, in the back of the wagon.

He jumped down from the driver’s seat. The prospector kicked angrily at the side of the wagon as Candy headed towards the front door.

“I’ll get you for this,” he hissed. “Same as I took care of Cartwright’s son - -”

Chilled to the bone and worn out from worry and fatigue, the man’s words raised Candy’s temper past the breaking point. He reached out and hauled the prospector up by the front of his shirt. The man stared back at Candy in fear, like a trapped animal that knew there was no escape.

“Candy!”

He turned; Ben Cartwright and Jamie were watching him anxiously from the porch. Candy took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a minute. Then he opened them and slowly released his grip on the prospector.

Greatly relieved, the prospector moved as far back as the confined space of the wagon would allow to get out of Candy’s reach.

“Mr. Cartwright . . .” Candy gasped.

“What happened?” Ben said, shocked at Candy’s condition. “Where’s Joe and

Griff - - why aren’t they with you?”

“Joe and Griff are at the line shack at the edge of the East pasture. This character,” Candy said, gesturing angrily at the man huddled in the wagon, “and his buddy tried to bushwhack us. Joe’s been shot, Mr. Cartwright.”

“I’ll fetch Doc Martin,” Jamie said, darting into the house and hurriedly grabbing one of the rain slickers hanging by the door.

Ben grabbed Jamie’s arm. “Better let Clem know that we need him.” Jamie nodded. “And be careful, son.”

“I will, Pa.”

Ben watched as Jamie disappeared into the barn, then turned to Candy. “How badly is Joseph hurt?”

Candy paused, wishing that he could say anything else except the truth. “He’s hurt pretty bad.”

“And he’s alone with Griff . . .” Ben muttered to himself, knowing how uncomfortable the circumstances would make both Joe and Griff feel.

“Mr. Cartwright, I know Griff pretty well. You can trust him - - he’ll do the best he can for Joe until we get there.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Ben said, patting Candy encouragingly on the back. It was too late for him to start having second thoughts about Griff now. “All right, let’s go bring them home . . .”

* * * *

Four weeks later, Joe grimaced in pain as he eased himself up in the bed to get a better view of the checkerboard that lay between him and his brother.

Even though Doc Martin had said it would be another week or so before he could start moving around, Joe felt good. His eyes flickered around the room, I thought I was never going to see this place again . . .

Joe didn’t remember much about the past month. Except that every time he had been able to force his way through the painfilled haze caused by fever and infection, he had sensed that he wasn’t alone. He did remember crying, with relief, the first time he woke up and recognized the voice that was softly comforting him. His Pa’s voice. From that moment on, he knew that everything was going to be okay.

Despite Doc Martin’s objections, Everyone in the family had been keeping Joe company for the past week. With one exception. Joe glanced up and studied Jamie’s face intently. “You and Griff been getting along okay?”

Jamie put down the checker and gave his older brother a curious look. “I don’t know, Joe. He’s been acting kind of funny since you got back.”

“Oh?” Joe asked, concerned. “How so?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been working with Griff a lot since you got laid up and he seems different. He even said he was sorry for those things he said about Pa.”

“Hmm,” Joe said, looking thoughtful. “Pa told you he was thinking about sending Griff to San Francisco, didn’t he?”

Jamie nodded. “Yeah, but I’m starting to think that might not be right, Joe. I mean, Pa didn’t send me away, and sometimes I didn’t act any better than Griff did.”

Joe laughed and his face broke into a smile. “Well, I’ll admit that there were days that Hoss and I felt like tossing you in the water trough, but you weren’t as bad as all that.” A serious look returned. “But I think you’re right, little brother, maybe we haven’t given Griff much of a chance.” He moved his checker rapidly across the board. “Looks like I win again. That makes three times, doesn’t it?”

“I let you win,” Jamie began with a frown, “because you’ve been sick.”

From the doorway, an amused Griff watched the two for a moment. Still not totally convinced of the truth of Joe’s words, he had wavered back in forth in his convictions until Candy and Ben Cartwright had returned with the wagon on that stormy night. And even though the older man was very concerned about his son’s condition, Griff had been impressed by the genuine relief and concern Ben Cartwright had shown for him and for Candy. From that moment on, Griff started taking a good look around and began seeing things differently than before.

He cleared his throat loudly. “I hate to interrupt your game . . .”

“You’re not interrupting,” Joe said, “Jamie’s just explaining to me how I beat him in three games of checkers.”

Griff continued, looking pointedly at the boy. “But Candy sent me up here looking for one of the hands.”

Jamie looked guilty. “I was supposed to meet him in the corral right after breakfast . . .”

“Yeah,” Griff said, nodding his head in agreement. “He said to tell you that he expects all of the hands to show up for work on time.”

Jamie jumped up from his seat. “I gotta go, Joe.”

Joe laughed. “Take it easy, little brother.” He watched thoughtfully as Jamie left.

“Don’t worry,” Griff said, reading Joe’s mind. “He’s not in any trouble. Candy knew all along that he was up here with you.”

“How’s the arm feeling?”

“Better - - I think Hop Sing’s better at doctoring than Doc Martin is,” Griff said. He looked down for a minute, trying to gather courage for what he wanted to do next. Admitting that he had been wrong was difficult.

“Look, Joe, I want to thank you . . .”

“For what?” Joe said, shaking his head. “I should be the one thanking you, for taking care of me until Candy and Pa came for us.”

“No, I was wrong . . . about you and your family. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have never found that out.”

“We were both wrong about a lot of things, Griff.” He gave Griff a reassuring smile. “Jamie tells me that the two of you have been working together pretty closely for the past couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, he’s a good kid. And I’ve been talking to your Pa some too. He’s different; I can’t say that I’ve ever known a man like him before.” Griff cocked his head. “Well, I’d best get back to work, before Candy comes after me too.” He paused at the door. “You were right, Joe; it feels pretty good to have people around that care.”

As Griff walked downstairs, he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Home . . . He thought, at peace with his new surroundings, I never knew what that word meant . . . until now - - -

The End

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