debbieb024

Foiled Attempts

By Debbie B;0)

Ben, Adam and Hoss Cartwright pulled their tired horses to a stop. They had been riding all day and now night was descending upon the small group of men who
had been following after the hold up men that had attempted to rob the bank earlier that morning. Ben had sent his youngest son, Little Joe over to the bank to
deposit his prize money of $50 into his savings account when the masked men had entered the bank and tried to steal the bank’s holdings, including the boy’s
money. The robbery attempt had not netted the robbers much money due to the fact that Little Joe and his best friend, Mitch Devlin had caused some type of
distraction. Mitch had ended up getting shot in the shoulder and when the bandits left empty handed except for what little money they had taken from the customers
who were caught unaware in the bank, they had taken his son as their hostage instead.

Ben cringed when he thought about the sight that his eyes had beheld earlier this morning. As he and his two older sons had emerged from the lawyers’ office where
they had been required to sign some legal papers, they had heard the gunfire coming from the direction of the bank. Ben’s first thoughts were in regard to the welfare
and whereabouts of his fifteen-year-old son. It was then that he had witnessed the bandits riding wildly down the middle of the street on their way out of town. Sitting
in front of the lead man on his horse sat Joe Cartwright, a pistol held to his head, and a look of total terror plastered on his young face. Ben’s heart had leaped into
his throat at the sight. Immediately the sheriff, Roy Coffee, had organized a posse and soon after the group of men had headed out of town racing away at break
neck speed. The Cartwright men had joined in and now, tired and exhausted, the group had no choice but to stop and make camp for the night.

"We might as well make camp here tonight men, we can get a fresh start first thing in the morning," Sheriff Coffee instructed the posse as he dismounted from his
horse.

"Pa?" questioned Hoss, looking at his father and seeing the anxiety on his father’s face. "Do we gotta stop now? I aim to find that little brother of mine and if’n those
fellas lay one hand on him, I will rip them apart with these," Hoss told his father as he held up his large hands in the air for his father to see.

Ben dismounted his horse and looked at each of his sons. "Hoss, trust me son, I know just how you feel, I am as anxious to have my son back as you are to get your
brother back. But we have no other choice for now. It’s getting dark, we can’t possibly follow the trail til morning."

"Come on son, lets get some rest and we’ll do just what Roy said, we’ll get an early start in the morning," finished Ben in a softer voice as he began unsaddling his
mount. Ben was worried about his youngest son but knew he had to put on a good front for his middle son. He knew how much Little Joe meant to Hoss and knew
that Hoss would fight to the death to protect the boy. The emotions he saw on Hoss’ face convinced him of that, Hoss was mad and it took a lot to anger the largest
of his sons. Hoss was usually good-natured and kind to all, until it came to protecting a member of his family, especially his baby brother, then he became as
dangerous as a wounded grizzly bear.

Adam on the other hand kept his anger hidden to those who did not know him well. But Ben knew him as well if not better than anyone and he could see the angry
fire that burned in his dark eyes. He could see the twitch of his jaw, a sure sign that a storm was brewing deep within. Ben realized that he was glad it was not going
to be him on the receiving end of that anger, should it erupt.

Adam dismounted Sport and began following suit, giving his younger brother a silent nod of the head. Hoss let out a long sigh and reluctantly did as Adam and the
rest of the group of men was doing, and that was tending to their horses. That finished they turned to the task of preparing for what each man knew, would be a long
night.

The three men involved in the holdup had ridden long after nightfall, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the posse that was following after them.
Little Joe was tiring, his rear end hurt from having to ride double in the saddle with the larger man whose horse he shared. His hands hurt where the man had tied
them together. The tight rope had rubbed raw places on his wrists and they had begun to sting. He was glad when they stopped, but before he knew what was
taking place the large man, who he had heard called Gus, grabbed him roughly by the back of the neck and shoved him carelessly from the horse. Joe hit the ground
with a heavy thud, momentarily knocking the wind out of him.

"Stumpy, tie the brat up, and make sure you tie him tight. I don’t want him getting away. Oh, and make sure you gag him, stuff a sock in his mouth first, the little
bastard cost us thousands of dollars today," Gus instructed the short man called Stumpy as he climbed down from his horse.

"Get your butt on over there kid," Gus said as he kicked Joe from behind. Joe clinched his teeth to keep from crying out but when the man kicked him a second time
he let out a moan as the man’s boot connected with his lower back.

Stumpy untied Joe’s hands where they had been tied in front of him and then roughly yanked on Joe’s arms forcing them behind his back and began tying his hands
together around the trunk of a tree.

"Not like that you stupid fool. Tie his hands over that branch and then tie his ankles around the trunk," ordered Gus as he took a sip from a whiskey bottle that had
suddenly appeared from the man’s saddlebags.

"But Boss, if’n I do that, how will he sleep? He can’t sleep trussed up like that," Stumpy questioned, wondering at his boss’ thinking.

Gus walked over to where Stumpy was now tying Joe’s wrists above the branch that was over his head. "Guess if he sleeps, he’ll just have to do it standing up,"
sneered Gus as he took a drag on his whiskey bottle.

"Anyway, who cares, this way he’ll be too damn tired to try to escape tomorrow," laughed Gus. Drawing his face close to Joe’s he laughed again.

"I have plans for him. This brat foiled my plans this morning, but from what I heard, this kid’s daddy is worth more’n what was in that bank. And if’n I figure it right,
he will pay us thousands to have his kid home. Ain’t that right punk?" spat Gus, his spittle spraying into Joe’s face.

Joe turned his head; the man’s breath reeked of tooth decay and bad whiskey making his stomach churn. And with the nasty sock now stuffed into his mouth and the
gag tied tightly around his mouth, Joe could only stare at the dirty man.

The third man who Joe knew as Pete finished tending to the horses while Gus sat and downed his whiskey. Stumpy and Pete kept their eyes on Gus as they made
ready their bedrolls for the night. Both men were well aware that Gus could turn real nasty when he was drinking and both wanted to avoid a confrontation with their
boss if possible. Gus had ordered them not to build a fire, he insisted on a cold camp hoping to keep their location secret from the posse. All three men had to make
due with beef jerky and stale bread for their supper. Joe who was watching the three knew that supper was just another thing that he would be missing out on
tonight. His stomach growled from his hunger and he was thirsty. Gus had not allowed him anything all day and Joe fought the hunger that gnawed at his stomach
with thoughts of his family. Surely his pa and brothers would arrive soon to help him out of his mess. It seemed to Joe that he was forever getting into one scrape
after another that resulted in having to be rescued by one or the other of his brothers or by all three of his family members. Joe silently cursed himself for his foolish
move earlier that morning while in the bank.

Joe tried to get comfortable but with his arms stretched tight over his head and his ankles secured to the trunk of the tree there was no position he could find to ease
his weariness. And the blackness of the night had set in, causing the boy to shiver slightly, more from the fear of the darkness than from the cool night air. God, how
he wished his father would come for him. He hated being left alone in the dark like this and he had to admit to himself, he was scared. Gus had been sucking on his
whiskey bottle for more than an hour now, all the while throwing dirty looks in his direction. Joe reasoned that it was only a matter of time before the man started
taking his anger out on him. Joe knew he had really pissed the man off during the robbery attempt when he had tried to grab his $50 back from the man. And Mitch!
Oh God, thought Joe, his best friend had been shot and Joe could only wonder whether his friend was still alive or not. He sure had looked dead to Joe. Joe could
no longer contain his tears and silently they streamed from his green eyes as he prayed for his friend and for his family to hurry to him.

"Oh please, God, let Mitch be okay! It was my fault he got shot, I am so sorry God!" whispered Joe’s mind.

Joe’s arms were hurting, the pain running like sharp needles down the lengths of his arms and into his shoulders. His head hurt where he had been hit while at the
bank and again when he had hit the ground as Gus knocked him from the horse. Adding to his discomfort, was the pain in his lower back where he had been kicked
earlier.

Joe tried to stay awake so that he could keep his eyes on what Gus was doing but as the weariness consumed his aching body, his eyes became too heavy with
sleep for him to keep open. As he dosed off and his knees buckled from beneath him, his head fell forward with a jerk and brought him out of his haze. Joe thought it
best to think of something that would prolong the sleep, at least until he was sure that Gus had either fallen asleep or passed out from the whiskey.

Joe thought back to when he and Mitch had entered the bank to make the deposit to his account. They had just made their way to the teller’s window and laid his
money on the counter when the door had burst open and three masked men entered the bank.

"Okay everyone, this is a holdup, don’t anyone move," Gus had yelled. "Stumpy, collect everyone’s cash and jewelry, Pete, keep your gun on them," ordered Gus
as he made his way to the teller’s window. Throwing a saddlebag onto the counter, he ordered the teller to "fill it up."

Joe, who stood in front of the window, was shoved out of the way by the masked man, causing him to bump into Mitch who had been standing directly behind him.

"Get out of the way kid," Gus hollered at Joe as he grabbed for Joe’s $50 that he had just placed on the counter.

Anger at seeing the man stealing his money over ruled Joe’s caution. "Hey, that’s my money, give it back," yelled Joe as he attempted to grab for his money that Gus
had been holding in his hand.

Gus saw Joe’s sudden movement and while holding the money high over his head, with his gun in the other hand, he delivered a backhanded blow to the side of
Joe’s head. The assault caused Joe to fall backward into the counter. Mitch made a grab to break Joe’s fall and Gus thinking that the blond headed boy was
attempting to overpower him, shot the boy down.

"Damn!" Gus screamed. Stuffing the $50 into his pocket he then grabbed Joe by the back of the shirt as Joe had been trying to check on the condition of his friend.
Joe was spun around and Gus who out weighed the young boy by more than a hundred pounds managed to hold Joe in a tight headlock, making it impossible for
him to get away.

That didn’t stop Joe from fighting, what he lacked in weight, he more than made for with grit and determination. He grabbed at the man’s arms as they held him in the
vise like grip. The action caused the bandit’s mask to slip from his face, revealing his identity. Kicking and tugging for all he was worth brought little satisfaction of
escape from the death like hold the big man had on him. As he continued to struggle, the man only applied more pressure to the boy’s neck and within seconds, Joe
felt his head begin to spin from lack of oxygen and was forced to stop his struggle.

"Come on men, let’s get outta here. This fool kid has ruined everything." Gus ordered his men as he began making his way to the door, followed by Stumpy and Pete
all the while pulling Little Joe along with him.

Gus carefully opened the door and saw that a crowd of people where beginning to form in front of the bank.

"Hold your fire all of you or I’ll blow this brat’s head off his shoulders. Back up! NOW!" screamed Gus as the three bandits made their way to their horses. The
crowd did as they were ordered, one man yelling out to Joe.

"Don’t worry Little Joe, we’ll get your pa and brothers!"

Gus handed Little Joe to Stumpy while he mounted his horse and then pulled Joe by the head of the hair unto the horse forcing Joe to cry out with the pain. He was
placed in the saddle in front of Gus and Pete was ordered to tie his hands. That quickly done, Stumpy and Pete mounted their own horses and the three headed out
of town, all the while Gus held his pistol to Joe’s temple, promising to kill the boy if anyone made an attempt to stop him or his buddies.

Joe shivered again, he felt the night becoming cooler and he wished for the comfort of his warm bed. He hoped his father and brothers would come to rescue him
soon. He had seen them out of the corner of his eye as Gus had raced out of town. At least he had the reassurance that they had known that the bandits had taken
him as their hostage, but he wished they would hurry, he wanted to go home; and he was worried about Mitch. And this gag was making him sick, the sock that had
been shoved into his mouth was causing his mouth to become terribly dry making it almost impossible to swallow. Joe was getting nervous fighting to keep the sock
in place he worried what if he fell asleep and choked on the sock?

"Please Pa, hurry! I need you," cried Joe to himself.

"What’s wrong cry baby, you wantin’ your daddy?" laughed Gus who had gotten up to check on his prisoner and had seen Joe’s tears.

Joe, who had closed his eyes, had been unaware of Gus’ approach. Opening his eyes when hearing Gus’ laughter, Joe tried to turn his head to avoid making eye
contact with his tormentor. The look of hate that radiated from the man’s eyes sent shivers throughout Joe’s body.

"Look at me, when I talk to you," Gus said as he delivered a slap to Joe’s face. Joe’s head reeled backward from the force and he fought to keep the sock from
easing it’s way down the back of his throat. Gus laughed loudly and swayed on his feet, the effects of the whiskey taking it’s toll on his body.

"Good night kid," Gus said, his words slurred. As he turned to leave he spun around facing Joe one more time and delivered his fist to the bottom of Joe’s stomach.

"That’s for fouling up my job this morning," he said and punched Joe a second time, this one aimed at the kidneys and then he stumbled back to his bedroll where he
fell face down on top of his blanket.

Joe could not double over from the punches to his body due to the way he was tied. The blows had been hard enough to cause sufficient pain to his abdomen and
side but Joe could only cry out in silence. When he could no longer keep his eyes open, body consumed with agony, Joe gave in to the darkness that claimed him.
His body limp and slumped was held only by the weight that his body placed on the ropes that bound him cutting deeply in to his wrists as he hung from the branch
above.

Ben had been awake for hours. Hoss had fallen asleep shortly after his head came to rest on his saddle he was using for a pillow. Now the sound of his snoring could
be heard throughout the camp. Glad that his middle son had at last calmed down enough to rest, Ben looked toward his eldest son and could see the steady rise and
fall of his breathing, indicating that he too had found rest.

Adam had his hat over his face but was able to see from underneath the rim. He had seen his father watching him to see if he had fallen asleep. He decided to allow
his father that small comfort but knew it would be hours before he could sleep. His mind was on his younger brother and the fate that waited him. Adam had seen the
frightened look that his brother wore on his face as he was forced to leave town with the bandits. Worry for the boy’s welfare ate at Adam’s soul, he knew that Joe,
though always trying to be more grown up and brave than he really was, was no doubt scared and probably wondering where his family was. Adam’s need to
protect and shelter the lad was as great in him as it was in his brother Hoss and in their father. True the boy could be most trying sometimes, well most of the time
thought Adam, but that did not stop the amount of love that each of the older Cartwright men held in their hearts for him.

"Hang on little buddy, we’re coming, I promise you kid," whispered Adam to himself before closing his eyes hoping to find sleep.

Ben, lying on his back watched the stars that twinkled in the clear night sky, his mind clearly on his missing son.

"Oh Marie, help me find our baby!" cried out Ben’s heart. Ben thought about the conversation he had had with Joseph the evening before, demanding that the boy
put his winnings into his account at the bank.

"Joe, I’m glad you won the prize money, but I still think the best thing to do with it is to put it in the bank," stated Ben who was beginning to tire of the argument with
his youngest son. "But Pa, I had plans for this money, can’t I keep it instead of havin’ to put it in that old bank?" begged the curly headed boy as he gave his father a
pitiful look, trying to turn the dispute in his favor.

"Joseph, just what do you want the money for? What is so important that you have to have the whole $50?" Ben asked, watching the facial expressions of his
youngest son and all the while could tell that his youngest was up to no good, he just had that look about him and Ben could not refrain from smiling to himself.

Ben Cartwright was no fool, he knew this one son of his was trying to play the innocent in this current disagreement. He would play the game just a while longer, just
to see where this might lead, then he would insist that the $50 that Little Joe had won for showing his prize calf at the fair be put in the bank.

Ben was aware that his youngest son liked to take part in certain types of entertainment, such as gambling, that he did not approve of. He had been caught on more
than one occasion and Ben knew that with the amount of money that Little Joe had won, the temptation would be more than the young boy could handle.

"Well…um…well…Ah, gee Pa, can’t a fella just have some pocket change?" stammered Little

Joe, who was unable to come up with a quick enough answer that would satisfy his father. He did have plans, he hoped to double his money if he got his chance. He
was planning on sneaking out of the house and getting in on the poker game he knew was going to be taking place this next Saturday in the back room of the Bucket
of Blood Saloon. One of his older friends, Sam Higgins, had told him about it. Sam had played last week and said that the fellas who were usually there were not too
bright at playing poker and winning was easy. Sam himself had won over $75 that night. Joe wanted part of the action, as he had always loved the challenge and he
knew he was good at playing the game.

Smiling to himself, Ben knew that Joseph was grasping at straws trying to come up with a good excuse to keeping the money and yet not lying to him.

"Ok, you can keep some change, just to hear it jingling in your pocket," he teased, " but the rest is going into the bank. Is that clear?" asked Ben.

"Pa! That ain’t fair!" yelled Joe, his anger beginning to become apparent.

Ben, who had been sitting in his chair by the fire, rose from his seat and faced Joe. "Watch your tone of voice young man," he warned.

Joe looked into his father’s brown eyes and saw the anger beginning to make the eyes darker than normal and knew he was on dangerous ground.

"I’m sorry Pa, it’s just that I was hoping I could keep the money. If I put it in the bank, with my luck the bank will get robbed and then I won’t have any," Joe told
his father, the sorrow evident in his voice.

Ben smiled to himself and lifted his son’s chin so that he could see into the depths of the green eyes. "Ok, son, you may keep, say, $5 but the rest has to go into your
account at the bank. Is that clear?"

Pulling his chin from his father’s grasp Joe turned to sit down on the low wooden table that was placed in front of the fireplace. The disgust clearing showing on his
young face as the furrows that appeared there deepened.

"Do I have a choice in the matter?" he demanded.

"Joseph, I am very tired of this discussion. You heard what I said, and that is final, unless of course, you would rather put the whole amount into the bank?" Ben said
as he stood over Joe and watched as the boy tried to control his anger and disappointment.

"Okay, Pa, if I have to do it your way. But if my money gets stolen, then it’s your fault," Joe sounding more like a ten year old said as he rose from the table and
began making his way to his bedroom.

Unable to contain his laughter any longer, Ben’s voice vibrated throughout the room. "Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen son; I’m afraid I’d lose more than $50 if it
did. Good night Joseph, I love you son."

Joe turned to face his father and could not help but smile, he knew he was acting like a little kid, just the opposite of what he had always claimed he was not. But he
also knew that he could not stay mad at his father for long, he loved him too much.

"Night Pa, I love you too. And I’m sorry I got so cross," said Joe returning to give his father a hug before going to bed.

Ben closed his eyes, "if I had not been so insistent, our baby would not be in this danger now. Oh Marie, I am so sorry, forgive me please," cried Ben’s heart as
sleep at last claimed the worried father.

With the coming of morning, the posse was on its way. Hoss had taken the lead following the trail as best he could. The bandits were heading for higher ground,
traveling over rock and hard packed earth, making their trail nearly impossible to follow. Ben was beginning to get discouraged as he felt that his youngest son was
slipping further and further from him; the need to protect him and hold him close was tearing away at his very being.

"Pa," called Hoss stopping his horse and climbing down to get a better look at the tracks.

"What is it Hoss?" asked Ben and he also dismounted and came to stand next to the larger of his three sons.

Looking sadly at this father and then casting a glance in Adam’s direction, discouragement plainly showing on his face, he quietly spoke.

"I seem to have lost the tracks, they look as if they’ve just disappeared. I can’t tell which way they go from here. I’m sorry Pa," Hoss said as he hung his head to
hide the tears that had suddenly pooled in his blue eyes.

Hoss had been worried about his brother, seeing him riding out of town with the pistol pointed at his head had caused Hoss’ stomach to churn with fear for the boy.
Hoss knew Joe was in a dangerous situation and anything could happen to him. Fear of his being hurt or worse, killed by these men hung heavy in Hoss’ mind
forcing him to want to push forward in their search. Having lost all signs of the bandit’s tracks was having its effects on the middle son of Ben Cartwright.

"Hoss, you’ve done the best you could," Ben said as he patted his son on his back hoping to give comfort to the boy. "We’ll think of something else."

"Pa?" questioned Adam as he joined his father and brother who were still looking around at the ground hoping to pick up Little Joe’s trail.

"It appears that these guys are heading toward Placerville. It’s not much further, why don’t we go there, look around, maybe get a beer and ask a few indiscreet
questions?" Adam stated, for he was having his own thoughts about what might this very minute be happening to his kid brother. Adam wasn’t at all happy with
where those thoughts were taking him. If those men had hurt his baby brother, Adam had full intentions of making them pay dearly for having done so.

"Ben, that’s a good idea. Some of these fellas here gotta get back to their families. I’ll ride back with them and wire the sheriff in Placerville, tell him what’s goin’ on.
That way he will be waiting for you and in the mean time, he can keep an eye out for any suspicious looking characters," Roy said.

Ben appeared to be lost in thought and just when Roy thought he would have to repeat his little speech, Ben looked up at him and shook his head yes.

"Well, at least that’s a plan. Might be we could pick up a clue or two. I’ll wire you after we talk to the sheriff, Roy." Ben stated. Turning to the small group of
followers, he thanked them for their help. "Men, my sons here and I truly appreciate what you have done so far. Thank you, friends."

With that Roy and his posse turned toward home and left Ben standing with his sons to discuss their next move. When Ben looked up, only one man from the
retreating posse remained.

"I aim to stay with you Ben, that is if you don’t mind. I’d like to see those scumbags get what’s coming to them. That was my son they left for dead in the bank."
Charlie Devlin announced to his friends.

"We’d be pleased to have you Charlie, you know that. I’m just happy that Mitch was not hurt any worse than what he was," said Ben as he approached Charlie’s
horse and shook the hand of his long time friend.

As it happened, the bullet had only grazed Mitch’s shoulder rather than entering the flesh. The doctor had pronounced him fit, if not somewhat sore, and then had to
give the boy a sedative in order to calm him down and keep him still. He had been determined to ride out after the posse with his father to aid in the search of his
best friend, Joe.

"Times a wasting, let’s ride," Ben said as he and his sons mounted their horses and rode toward Placerville.

The four men rode hard trying to cover the distance as quickly as possible. But no matter how hard they pushed nightfall had once again done its best to hamper the
determined travelers. Ben and his boys, along with Charlie decided to push on toward Placerville. They arrived a short time after mid-night and went in search of the
stable to board their horses for the night. After much pounding on the door, the stable boy answered their knock, a look of sleep clearly evident on his face. While
Adam and Hoss were talking to the stable boy and making sure their horses would be cared for, Ben and Charlie headed for the hotel and were able to acquire two
rooms. When the younger men finished their task they too made their way to the hotel and joined their father and Mr. Devlin.

"Pa, I think Hoss and I should make a little trip to the saloon. I saw plenty of men that were still there when we came in from the stable. Might be we could pick up
some helpful information," Adam told his father.

"Okay Adam, you and Hoss go ahead, but remember, be careful. If you find out anything helpful, wake me just as soon as you get back. I think Charlie and I will
call it a night, we have to see the sheriff first thing in the morning so we need to get an early start," Ben instructed his son.

Adam placed his hat on his head and turned toward the door to join Hoss who had been waiting for him in the hall. "Don’t worry Pa, we’ll find the kid," Adam said
as he turned to face his father before going out the door. Adam noted the fine lines that had begun to appear on his father’s face and knew the man was worn out
and worried about his baby son’s safety. He would do all he could to alleviate some of that fear and worry his father was experiencing.

Ben looked into the dark eyes of his oldest son and could see the silent pain within. He nodded his head and smiled.

"I certainly hope so son. I won’t stop until I have that boy back home with me, with us, I should say. Now run along Adam. Good luck son," said Ben as he
followed Adam to the door and shut it as Adam joined Hoss.

Adam and Hoss walked together into the Dead Dog Saloon but parted company as soon as they entered. Adam turned toward the bar and ordered a whiskey while
Hoss who had worked his way to the far end of the bar ordered himself a beer. A group of cowboys in for a night of drinking and partying were in the far corner of
the saloon surrounded by a smaller group of ladies. In the other corner of the bar sat six men deeply involved in a poker game. Adam searched the faces of each
man hoping to recognize one from the bank robbery in Virginia City.

There didn’t seem to be much going on and after a half hour or so Hoss inched his way to the end of the counter where Adam now stood looking over his back
through the gilded mirror that faced him.

"Doesn’t look like anything worth while here big brother. We might as well call it a night," stated Hoss as he turned his glass up to catch the last drops of remaining
beer.

"Yea, no use standing here all night. We’ll talk to the sheriff in the morning, maybe he has seen some strangers around town in the last couple of days," said Adam,
grabbing his hat and heading for the door.

Hoss and Adam walked to the hotel in silence; each lost in their own thoughts about their youngest brother. Climbing the stairs to their room one could plainly see
that the two young men had a look of determination on their handsome faces. Any man who knew the Cartwright men knew that these two young men would not
rest until they had accomplished what they had set out to do. A wiser man would not dare get in their way, for doing so could ultimately result in serious
consequences.

Morning came much too early for the four tired men, but each knew that they had to push on. Ben suggested that the first stop should be a quick breakfast
downstairs in the hotel dinning room and then they would see the sheriff. Hopefully he would have some news to tell them that would aide in their search for Little
Joe. Eating their breakfast as fast as they could, they hurried to find the sheriff of Placerville.

"Sheriff Brownly?" asked Ben as the four men entered the sheriff’s office.

"That’s right, Ben Cartwright I presume?" greeted the sheriff as he extended his hand in welcome. "Roy Coffee wired me last night that you would be coming in."

"Yes, that’s right, Sheriff, these are my two sons, Adam and Hoss, and this is our friend, Charlie Devlin," Ben said as he shook the hand of the sheriff and introduced
his group.

"Nice to meet you fellas," Brownly greeted the three taking time to shake hands with each man.

"Now, Roy says you are looking for you younger son. He was taken hostage during a robbery attempt. Is that correct?" the sheriff asked while he thumbed through
some wanted posters.

"Yes, that’s correct, have you seen any strangers around town the last couple of days?" Adam asked as he looked over Sheriff Brownly’s shoulder at the wanted
posters.

Hoss was becoming impatient at the small talk. He wanted to be doing something; this standing around was wearing on his nerves.

"Sheriff, do ya know of any place ‘round here where a couple of guys might hide? We’re fairly certain that those rascals were headin’ this way," asked Hoss as he
moved to stand on the other side of the sheriff, trying to look at the posters along with Adam.

"Well, let’s see now," said the sheriff, staring up at the ceiling as if lost in thought. "There’s an old abandoned shack about seven or eight miles from here. Ain’t no
one used it in about three years. Could make a good hide out, plenty of trees and boulders around it." Sheriff Brownly informed the small group.

"Which way?" asked Ben as he leaned over the desk so that he could look into the sheriff’s eyes.

"South, about three miles out on the main road. There, the road forks and you will need to ride east about four miles. The country is pretty well grown up around
there, like I said lots of woods and large rocks. The old shack is about a hundred yards off the road, if you could call it a road, more like a path. May even have to
walk your horses," finished Brownly laying the wanted posters on his desk and rising from his chair.

Charlie who was standing next to the desk opposite of Ben glanced down at the poster that had been placed on the desk. "Hey, Ben, look at this," he said, picking
up the top poster to get a better look at the face staring back at him.

"I swear, this looks like one of the men who took Joe," Charlie said, handing the poster to Ben. Adam and Hoss moved to stand next to their father so that they
could inspect the face.

"Hey Pa, Charlie, I think ya right, that was the one who had the pistol to Joe’s head," commented Hoss who was beginning to get excited.

"Hoss is right Pa, he is the one, I won’t be forgetting that face anytime soon," added Adam who had begun clinching and unclinching his fists.

"Let me take a look at that, if you don’t mind," asked Sheriff Brownly. Taking the poster from Ben’s hand, Brownly stared at it for several minutes before he spoke.

"Mr. Cartwright, this is Gus Slater," began the sheriff, turning to face Ben, a look of remorse on his face. "He’s meaner than a stripped rattlesnake. I hate to be the
one to tell you this, but he don’t care who he kills, kid or not, he just plain oh don’t care," he said as he handed the picture over to Adam.

The room became silent and the group of men exchanged worried looks. Ben found his voice first. "Let’s check out that old shack first. If we don’t find anything
there, then we’ll come back here and start out in another direction."

"Cartwright, I will take a couple of my best men and ride over to Wolf Holler, there are some old caves and mines over there, we’ll check those out while you and
your boys go to the shack. Why don’t we meet back here around seven tonight and take it from there?" asked the sheriff.

"What do you think boys?" Ben asked, turning to his sons for their answers.

"Let’s get a move on, Pa, we gotta find Joe, if’n this Gus fella is as mean as the sheriff here says, Joe could be in real trouble. You know how he is sometimes when
he gets riled; he never has learned when to keep his mouth shut. No doubt he hasn’t this time either," Hoss stated as he place his Stetson on his head and started out
the door. His father and brother followed him through the door with Charlie Devlin bringing up the rear.

"What about Roy?" asked Adam.

"We don’t have time right now. I’ll wire him tonight when we get back," Ben said. "Mount up boys, I want my son home with me, tonight if possible," said Ben as he
mounted his buckskin horse and gave him a good kick to the ribs.

In minutes the four men were on their way out of town and down the main road that each hoped would lead them to the whereabouts of the youngest family member.

Joe’s battered body ached from head to toe and he was so weary that he could hardly keep his eyes opened. He had suffered through yet another of Gus’ beatings
this morning and that added to the fact that he had spent the night being forced to stand had taken a toll on his body. The smooth gait of the horse beneath him at last
lulled the tired boy to sleep. As he leaned back into the chest of the man who held him in the saddle, Stumpy felt the head of the young boy relaxing against his body.
He shifted slightly in the saddle so that the boy could be a bit more comfortable. Something inside of Stumpy’s heart stirred and being unaware of his actions, he
gently reached up and fingered the soft brown curls that tickled the bottom of his chin. Memories began invading Stumpy’s thoughts and he was carried back through
the years to another battered young boy with soft brown curls who he had held in his arms much like he was now holding Little Joe Cartwright.

Stumpy’s younger brother, Chad, lay dead in his arms, beaten to death by their enraged stepfather. Their mother had died two years earlier leaving Chad then twelve
and himself fourteen in the custody of the wicked man. From the day their mother had been laid to rest, the daily beatings had begun, until that day when the two
young boys had found themselves in the yard alone with the intoxicated man.

The drunken stepfather had started early in the day by yelling and screaming at both of the boys. When that had failed to get the required results he desired he had
began slapping the boys until at last the slaps had turned into solid punches and in the end he had used his pistol to beat the younger of the two boys. As Chad lay
dead, a solid blow to his temple, Stumpy had cradled his young brother in his arms and sobbed only to have his stepfather laugh in his face. This had angered young
Stumpy and he had plowed into the laughing man who held the pistol in his hand. Stumpy had somehow managed to knock the man to the ground and take the
handgun from him. Quickly the older man was on his feet as Stumpy sat on the ground where he had fallen, pistol pointed directly at the man in front of him.
Carelessly the man began laughing and taunting the grieving boy.

"You little fool, do you think you scare me? You’re nothin’ but a yellow-bellied coward," stated the stepfather as he advanced on the boy. Without thoughts of the
consequences of his actions, his mind dull with grief at the death of his brother, Stumpy pulled the trigger and the blast that came from the loaded gun hit the man
between the eyes. The stepfather, a look of shock on his evil face fell face down into the dirt where death and hell claimed him as theirs.

Stumpy cautiously rose from where he sat in the dirt and slowly walked to where the dead man rested in the pool of blood that had formed on the ground beneath
him. Stumpy then laughed a sick heartless laugh and then turned to the dead body of his brother. Carefully gathering the still form into his arms he carried his brother
to the spot behind the house where both his father and mother were buried and set about to bury his brother. Stumpy remained at the gravesides of his family and
cried tears of sorrow and regret. Now alone and frightened, he saddled his horse and without so much as a backward glance, rode from his home for the last time.

That had been ten years ago, and it had been the first time he had killed. Killing since then had become a way of life for him, a means of survival. But he had not
stooped so low as to become a child killer. Somehow, he told himself, he would help this young boy, Stumpy knew in his heart that Gus would end up killing the lad.
It did not matter to Gus if the boy lived or died, just as long as he had his money first. Stumpy was determined now not to let that happened. He owed this much to
the boy if for no other reason because he felt within his heart that somehow he had failed his own brother. With this in mind, he determined that he just might be able
to help this curly headed young boy who reminded him so much of his beloved younger bother.

While the Cartwright brothers were checking out the patrons of the Dead Dog Saloon, Gus and his small band of men had found an old deserted shack about six or
seven miles outside of the Placerville city limits.

"Pete," ordered Gus, "check out the inside of the shack, this looks like a good place to hide out for a few days. We need supplies and these nags need a rest."

Pete climbed down from his horse and drawing his gun, slowly made his way into the run down shack. Carefully he scanned the room and deciding that it was safe
enough, called out to his boss.

"Everything’s clear in here Gus," said Pete appearing in the doorway of the shack. "Come on in, it’s dirty, but hell, what’s a little dirt, right boss?" smiled Pete,
showing his yellowed teeth.

Gus dismounted and walked over to Stumpy’s horse where Joe had been riding. Reaching up and grabbing Joe by the arm, he jerked Joe from the horse as easily as
if he had been a sack of grain and tossed him to the ground.

"Pete, get this kid in there, and keep a watch on him. Stumpy, get the horses into that barn and out of sight."

Joe was getting up from where Gus had tossed him when Pete began shoving him toward the building. Joe was wobbling on his feet from lack of food and found it
hard to maintain his balance. This seemed to only anger Pete and he pushed Joe harder, causing him to lose his balance tripping on the step.

"Get that kid inside, like I told you too!" yelled Gus who approached Little Joe before he could pull himself up from the step. Gus began kicking at Joe, not caring
where his kicks landed, only making sure that the tip of his boot made contact with the boy’s body.

Joe covered his body with his hands, trying to protect himself from Gus’ assault but with little results. "I’m going, I’m going," cried out the young boy doing his best
to get to his feet.

Gus looked down at his prisoner and laughed. "God, I hate you kid. Get him outta my sight Pete. Tie him up and gag him again."

Pete pulled Joe to his feet and practically dragged him inside. Once inside, he flung Joe into the old chair that sat at the table and tied his hands and feet tightly. Joe’s
head rested on his chest and he when he refused to open his mouth for the gag Pete slammed his fist into his face. Joe’s cry of pain echoed from the walls of the
cabin; and when his mouth opened, Pete stuffed the sock into it muffling any further cries and tied the gag tightly around Joe’s head.

Joe could no longer hold back his tears of frustration and pain and allowed the tears to flow from his now battered face. His face hurt, his lip had been busted open
when Pete had hit him, the taste of blood was on his lips and his face was bruised from all of the slapping Gus had been doing. Most of all, Joe wanted to go home
and the tears he cried were for the father he was longing for. Joe wanted nothing more at this time than to have his father’s strong arms around him in a tight embrace
protecting him from these evil attackers and to hear him saying that everything would be all right.

Pete and Stumpy opened the cans of beans they found that had been left on the shelf in the shack. There was hardly enough to go around but Stumpy spooned out
just enough for Little Joe to keep Gus from yelling at him for feeding the kid. If Gus had it his way, he would not have offered the boy anything but Stumpy had
promised himself he would try to help the boy and he knew that the boy had had nothing to put into his stomach since the holdup attempt. Stumpy realized the boy
was probably starving so had decided to share the beans with him. As he sat the plate of beans in front of Joe, he instructed Joe to eat slowly as not to make himself
sick and then he began untying Joe’s hands so that he could feed himself.

Joe was grateful for the release, regardless of how short a period he knew it would be. He began working his hands trying to regain the feeling that he had lost from
them. He knew this was taking precious time but Joe was not even sure he could swallow the meager meal that was offered to him. His mouth was as dry as cotton
from the sock having been there for so long and what he really wanted was a drink of cool water.

"Please," spoke Joe in a soft voice to Stumpy. "Could I have a drink of water?" he begged, not caring if he sounded like he was begging, which he knew he was
doing.

"Just a little. But drink slowly okay?" said Stumpy as he sat the tin cup of water in front of Joe.

Joe raised the cup to his lips and drank slowly as Stumpy had suggested. The cool water tasted good and felt even better on his lip that had been split open earlier.

"Thanks," Joe whispered to Stumpy, not wanting Gus to hear. He didn’t want to get Gus mad again as he was beginning to feel the effects of all of the kicking and
slapping that had been done to his body.

"What’s this?" Gus asked Pete looking at what appeared to be a trap door in the floor. Gus reached down and pulled on the handle, raising the lid.

"Don’t know, didn’t see it earlier," Pete told him as he and Stumpy moved in for a closer look.

"Hand me that lantern," Gus demanded. Taking the lantern from Stumpy’s hand and lighting it, Gus held it down into the darkness trying to figure out what was
beneath the house. Seeing a ladder that was attached to the opening, Gus slowly began climbing down through the hole in the floor. Suddenly his loud laughter could
be heard coming from below.

All at once Gus’ head appeared from the hole in the wooden floor. "This is perfect, it’s an old root cellar. Nothing down here but dirt, dirt floor, dirt walls, no
windows no doors, no escape!" he laughed as he watched the mixture of emotions that played across his young prisoner’s face.

His wicked laughing caught the attention of Little Joe who was struggling to finish his cold bean supper that Stumpy had given to him minutes before. Joe began
feeling dread building in the pit of his stomach, surely they weren’t planning on putting him in that hole; it was so dark down there!

"Get that damn kid over here, now! This will be his new home for awhile, until I can get a ransom note to his ole man!" laughed Gus, thinking how well his plan was
working out.

Pete made a grab for Joe but Joe saw the move and tried to get away from the advancing man. Having forgotten that his feet were still tied, he tripped as he rose
from the chair making it easy for Pete to catch him. At last having his hands on the boy, Pete slapped him on the back of his head, causing Joe’s head to fall forward.

"Get your sorry butt over there," snapped Pete having to drag the squirming boy along with him as he headed for the opening in the floor where Gus was waiting.

"No! No! Please, not in there, please!" pleaded Joe, hating himself for showing his fear to these evil men.

Joe tried to stop the tears that had suddenly started falling from his green eyes but could no longer contain his fear and dread. Joe had hated the dark since he had
been a small boy and hated worse, being left alone in the feared darkness. His family had always allowed him to leave a lamp burning low so that he could see when
awakened at night and neither sibling had ever been cruel enough to tease him about his fear. But now that fear had taken control over his senses and Joe continued
to plead.

"Please, I’ll do whatever you say, just don’t leave me down there, please," sobbed Joe.

Gus was getting angry for the delay and seeing Joe’s tears angered him even more. He was not one to tolerate weakness of any kind from anybody, especially this
kid who he had grown to hate with a passion. The brat was proving to be more trouble than he was worth and Gus just wanted him out of his site.

"Well, what do you know, the little sissy is scared of the dark! Get that brat over here now!" screamed Gus, whose patience had run out.

Pete shoved Joe down into the hole and Gus grabbed him by the shirt and yanked hard causing Joe to drop the six or so feet to the dirt ground below. Gus jumped
from the ladder and tied Joe’s hands behind his back. Turning Joe over onto his stomach, Gus pulled Joe’s legs which were already tied, up to his wrists and joined
them together, leaving Little Joe helpless to move. Grabbing Joe by one of his arms, Gus lifted Joe enough from the ground to drag his body to the far corner of the
chamber where it was the darkest and dropped him face down in the dirt. Turning to retrace his steps he picked up the lantern and climbed the ladder to the upper
room. When he reached the top he pulled the ladder into the room with him and dropped the hidden door onto the floor. The sound made a heavy thud and Joe
turned then to survey his surroundings. It did little good, as it was so dark that Joe could see nothing but the blackness that engulfed him. Trembling, Joe shut his eyes
and prayed for his family to hurry, he wanted his father now more than ever before.

Once in the room, Gus placed the ladder in the corner and pulling an old faded rug from the other end of the room, placed it over the trap door and moved the table
and the two rickety old chairs onto the rug. This he regarded with a smile. Now no one would be able to see the hidden door and would be none the wiser as to
where the boy was hidden. It was then that Gus remembered that he had forgotten to gag his young prisoner.

"Oh well," thought Gus, "he’s too scared to cry out. If’n he does, I’ll just go shut his mouth for him," he laughed to himself and thinking how smart he was.

Sometime late into the night Pete was awakened from a sound sleep by a noise he could not define. Quietly he called out to Gus, "Gus, wake up! What’s that
noise?" whispered Pete.

"Huh? What?" moaned Gus rubbing the sleep from his eyes, " what noise? What are you talkin’ about?"

"Shh…shh…There, hear it?" Pete said listening into the dark for the strange sound.

Gus sat still trying to make out the noise and when he realized what it was, anger filled him. Getting up from his bed on the floor, he moved to light the lantern that
was on the table. Looking about the room for the things he knew he would need he reached into the corner of the kitchen area where he found an old feed sack.
Giving it a strong shake to empty any remaining contents, he then grabbed the old sock and gag that had previously been used to gag his prisoner.

"It’s that damn baby down in the hole, he’s still crying for his daddy. I should have killed him back in that bank instead of his friend. I’ll shut him up for good this
time," Gus fussed as he angrily moved the chairs and table off the rug that covered the hidden door in the floor.

"Help me with that ladder," he called to Stumpy who had woke from his sleep to find out what all of the ruckus was about.

Lifting the door and placing the ladder into the dark hole, Gus carrying his lantern, the feed bag, sock and gag made his way into the hole that had been Joe’s prison
for the last several hours. Raising the lantern above his head in order to cast the light around the underground room he made his way to where Joe lay.

Giving a swift kick to the side of Joe’s hip he yelled out at the frightened boy. "Shut the hell up you stupid brat."

Joe who had been sleeping and crying unaware was taken off guard by Gus’ kick. Turning to see the angry man in front of him, he tried to pull away but Gus already
had a firm grip on his arm. When Joe saw Gus move to stuff the sock into his mouth, Joe twisted and turned his head trying in vain to avoid having the man place the
sock in his mouth. Gus delivered yet another brutal slap to the side of Joe’s face and when he cried out, his cry was stopped when Gus grabbed the sides of Joe’s
bruised face with his strong hands in order to hold the jaws opened. Cruelly he shoved the sock into the boy’s mouth and just as quickly tied the gag around his face
and knotted the cloth securely from behind.

Joe’s tears came for real this time and hearing the man’s cruel laughter caused Joe’s resolve to deteriorate rapidly. He felt the fight go out of him and gave in to the
man’s unjust treatment.

Gus took the second strip of cloth, cut from Joe’s own shirt and wrapped it tightly twice around the boy’s head covering the eyes. Joe was now blindfolded as well
as gagged. Gus smiled at the still form of the boy as he lay in the dirt. Gus knew he had at last defeated the strong will of the young boy whom he hated. Smiling to
himself, he finished his job by jamming the dirty feed bag down over Joe’s head, covering the entire facial area of the boy. Ripping another long strip of Joe’s shirt,
he tied that strip around Joe’s neck holding the feed bag in place. Joe made no move, he could make no sound and he knew that what he had thought of as dark
minutes before, the dark he was experiencing now gave new meaning to the word.

"Now, I said shut the hell up! That should keep you quiet for a while sissy!" smirked Gus kicking Joe in the ribs before he made his way up the ladder and back to
his warm bed by the fire.

Joe continued crying softly to himself, the tears wetting the cloth that covered his eyes. He tried to move but his bonds held him as tightly as if he were a calf at
branding. When he could cry no more, sleep claimed the sad frightened boy.

Much later Joe awoke to a small bright light shining in the distance. He kept his eyes focused on the spot of light until at last the light had grown in size. Raising his
hand to his eyes in order to shield them from the brightness, Joe could barely make out the face of a beautiful young woman.

"But what was that protruding from her sides?" he questioned himself.

Joe squinted his eyes, trying to focus on the form in front of him. They were wings! Joe knew he was gazing upon the face of an angel.

"Joseph, Mon Cherie, be patient, your papa is on his way," spoke the angel in a soft voice that brought instant comfort to the boy in bondage.

"Mama…Mama? Is that you?" cried out Joe. "Wait…please…wait…mama…I wanna go with you!" cried Joe as the angel began moving away.

"My precious son, you may not, not now. It is not your time, but someday you may join me. Right now your papa needs you," comforted the angel.

"Please…don’t leave me," sobbed Joe, "I’m scared. I wanna go home…please don’t leave," Joe’s sobbing continued.

"And you shall my darling son, soon. But you have to be brave, just a bit longer," said the angel as she continued fading from Joe’s view causing the bright light to
become smaller and smaller until at last it had totally disappeared.

"Come back…please…come back," wept Joe. Later when Joe awoke from his sleep, he remembered the dream and the promise that the angel who looked so
much like his mother had made to him. His father was coming for him…and that knowledge gave him the courage to continue hanging on.

Joe wasn’t sure what time it was or whether it was day or night. He knew one thing was certain, he was wet. Gus had not given him any time to relieve himself and
so he had been left to wet on himself. This knowledge both angered and embarrassed Joe but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. He only hoped that
his family would come soon before it happened again.

Joe was miserable, his clothes were now wet where he had peed, and he was having trouble breathing. The feed sack that was covering his head was tied in such a
way as not to allow any air to flow through it, he was hot from the sack being over his head and Joe felt as if he were suffocating. Lack of fresh air was making him
light headed and dizzy. The sock had dried his mouth to the point of making it nearly impossible to swallow. All of these things working against him caused the panic
to take over his thinking and it wasn’t long before the tears came once again. Joe cried for his father, for his brothers, and for himself. He was lonely, frightened and
afraid he was dying. His hands and legs were numb, no longer could he move them nor feel them, his body hurt from the beatings and he was scared of choking on
the nasty sock that had been crammed into his mouth. Joe tried to turn over on his side seeking a more comfortable position but the movement caused such pain that
soon Joe slipped from his world of blackness into the darkness of emptiness. There, Joe felt no pain, had no tears, cared not that he was wet, and cared less if he
lived or died. His longings were no more, his home or family mattered not as he seemed to float in the air above his body. He felt free for the first time in days, no
longer did the ropes bind his arms or legs, no longer was his mouth gagged or his eyes covered. At last he had found peace in a world unknown to him.

Ben and his sons including Charlie Devlin rode hard for the first several miles until at last they came to the fork in the road that the sheriff had told them about. The
small band of men pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted.

"Let’s eat a quick lunch boys and let the horses rest for a spell," Ben suggested. "We’ll move out after lunch."

Hoss downed his lunch in record time and was anxious to get going. "Come on fellas, let’s ride, times awastin’" he told them. "If possible, I aim ta find that brother of
ours today."

"I’m with you big brother," smiled Adam as he began to gather his things. The others where in the saddle and back on the trail instantly and the distance between the
forks in the road and the place where the sheriff indicated the shack was appeared in short time. All were anxious to find Little Joe and were hoping that this would
be the place where their search would end.

"Shh…let’s leave the horses here and walk in," advised Ben as he tied Buck’s reins to a branch. Adam and Hoss dismounted and did the same. Charlie joined the
others and silently the four men made their way to the shack.

"Adam," whispered Ben. "Why don’t you sneak around to the other side of the house and see what’s inside?"

"Sure thing Pa," Adam said and began inching his way through the undergrowth of bushes and low hanging trees being quiet so not to arouse the suspicion of
whoever might be in the shack if indeed there was anyone.

"Hoss, see what’s in the barn, but be quiet son," Ben ordered.

"Yes sir pa," Hoss replied and began making his way to the back of the barn.

Ben looked at Charlie and nodded his head in the direction of the house. Quickly and quietly both men moved in for a closer look. Settling themselves behind some
large boulders, they waited for Hoss and Adam to return.

Hoss was the first to get back. "Pa, there’s three horses stabled in the barn. Looks like they’re plum tuckered out too. Been rid hard from the looks of ‘em," Hoss
informed his father and Charlie.

"Good, now let’s wait to see what Adam found out," said Ben.

As if on cue Ben’s oldest son suddenly appeared from around the rock. "Pa, there’s three of them in there. One is definitely Slater, no doubt about it," Adam said.

"Any sign of your brother, son?" Ben asked hopefully.

Adam shook his head sadly, "Sorry Pa, didn’t see anything but those three fellas. Odd thing though," Adam said.

"What’s odd Adam?" inquired Charlie.

"Well, three men, four dirty plates. Makes one think they had company for dinner, wouldn’t you think so?" smiled Adam.

"Joe!" whispered Hoss, his face breaking into a big smile.

"What do you want to do about it Pa?" Hoss asked.

Before Ben had a chance to answer, the door to the shack opened and Pete walked out onto the porch. Taking a bag of tobacco and rolling papers from his pocket,
Pete rolled himself a cigarette. Striking his match on the post in front of him, he lit the end of his smoke and tossed the match into the dirt. Heading for the barn,
unaware that he was being watched, he did not know that the man in black was on him until it was too late. Before he knew what had happened, Adam had jumped
him from behind, spun him around and delivered a solid punch to his chin. Adam quickly dragged the dazed man into the barn and shut the door. Waiting for him was
his father and brother. Charlie had remained behind the boulder to watch the front of the house in case another man came out.

"Where’s my son?" demanded Ben.

Pete was obviously shaken. "Your son? I don’t know what you’re talking about mister."

"Let me have ‘em Pa, I’ll make him tell us where Little Joe is," said Hoss as he made a grab at the man’s shirt.

"Hold on now son, give me a minute." Ben said pulling Hoss’ arm from its hold on the man.

Seeing the look of fear on the man’s face when Hoss had made a grab for him Ben thought he might be able to use that to his advantage.

"I’ll only ask you one more time mister, where is my son, Joseph?" Ben stated, the anger showing in his dark eyes.

Pete made his first mistake when he refused to answer. Hoss grabbed him a second time and this time Ben allowed his son to deliver the punch to Pete’s stomach.
Pete doubled over in pain and tried to push pass Hoss. As Hoss reached out to grab for him, Pete who was much smaller and quicker than the larger Hoss, ducked
under his arm and ran past. Before Adam had a chance to stop him, Pete burst through the door yelling at the top of his voice.

"Gus, watch out in the house!" Pete shouted, all the while running for the door of the shack.

Gus flung open the door and started shooting. Pete running blindly in his attempt to escape from the three Cartwrights fell into the line of fire and drew a stray bullet
from Gus’ wild shooting. Pete had made his second mistake and then Pete dropped like a rock to the ground.

Gus and Stumpy continued shooting. Adam had gone out the back door of the barn and was making his way to the back of the shack. When he got to the spot that
would give him the most advantage, he stopped long enough to reload his pistol.

Hoss had also left the barn by the back door and had made his way to the opposite side of the shack. The shack, which had no rear door, was now surrounded on
all three sides. Adam was on the west end of the old house and Hoss to the east, leaving Ben and Charlie in the front.

"You might as well give it up," shouted Ben. "All I want is my son."

Gus’ loud laughter could be heard from within the shack. "Your son? That little bastard?" laughed Gus. "Ain’t nothing left of him but bones," jeered the dirty evil man
as he resumed shooting. "He’s been dead since yesterday," he lied still laughing.

"Stumpy," shouted Gus trying to be heard above the noise of the shooting. "Get down in that hole and kill the brat," ordered Gus.

"What?" yelled Stumpy shocked at what he had been ordered to do.

"You heard me stupid, I said kill the kid!" bellowed Gus as he watched the window to be sure that his attackers had not moved closer.

"You’re crazy, I ain’t a goin’ to kill no kid, you want it done, do it yourself," replied Stumpy, defiantly.

"Hell’s bells, you wimp," smirked Gus as he rose to make his way to the trap door.

Just as he was starting to move the table from the rug, Stumpy opened the front door and started to run out. He had promised he would help the kid and knew it was
now or never.

"Where in blazes are you goin?" called Gus who had turned at the sound of the door being opened.

Stumpy didn’t answer Gus but threw his gun into the dirt and yelled at the Cartwright’s, "Hold your fire, I’ll tell ya where the boy is!"

"Damn you Stumpy, keep your mouth shut!" ranted the enraged Gus from the opened door.

"Not this time Gus," said Stumpy turning his head to face his boss. Turning back to the Cartwrights, who had ceased firing, he shouted, "the boy is…"

But Stumpy never finished his sentence. Gus had shot him in the back dropping him hard. Gus ran out onto the porch and rained bullets at the four men who fired
back. Ben’s final bullet found its mark hitting the outlaw in the chest. Gus was dead before his body hit the wooden porch.

Hoss was mad now, with two of the bandits already dead and the third well on his way to dying, he was beginning to panic. If this third man died, all chances of
finding his baby brother would be lost to them. Hoss ran to where the man lay face down in the dirt, the blood shooting in sprits from the hole in his back. Bending
over he carefully turned the dying man onto his back. A cry of pain escaped from Stumpy’s mouth.

"Take it easy mister. Just tell me where my little brother is," said Hoss as he raised the man to a more up right position.

"Chad? Is that you boy?" asked Stumpy through his daze.

Hoss shook the dying man gently, "I don’t know who Chad is mister, but ya gotta tell me where Little Joe is…where is he? Ya hear me man? Where is my little
brother?" Hoss pleaded as he watched the man’s life slipping quickly away.

Stumpy fought to lift his hand and pointed toward the run down shack. In his dying voice he told Hoss what he wanted to hear.

"There…" he whispered, "he’s…in…the…shack…" and with that Stumpy’s body succumbed to death where he at last found peace from the life that had caused
him such sorrow and grief.

Hoss laid the dead man on the ground and ran into the shack. Ben, Adam and Charlie followed Hoss through the door that had been knocked from its hinges as the
large man burst in. Pausing just long enough to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light inside, Hoss began yelling for his brother.

"Joe…Joe? Where are you short shanks?" yelled Hoss running from corner to corner in search of his baby brother.

Ben and Adam stood in the middle of the room and scanned each of the four corners. There was no place in the room that they could see where Joe could have
been hidden from their view. Angered, Ben walked out onto the rotted porch.

"He’s not here boys," he said more to himself than to the others, the disappointment and heartache ringing in his voice.

Adam and Charlie, who had followed Ben out to the porch, paused where Ben was standing.

"I’m sorry Ben." Charlie said softly as he patted his friend’s shoulder.

"What now Pa? Where do we go from here? Damn," cursed Adam as he faced his father and watched the tears that streamed down his father’s cheeks. Ben made
no attempt to hide his crying from his oldest son or his best friend, his grief overflowing in the form of his tears.

Hoss who had remained inside the shack, trying to come to terms with his own grief yelled out as if he had been a wounded animal in pain. Ben, Adam and Charlie
were startled by the pitiful cry and hurried back through the door. Hoss in his frustration and grief had begun ripping the shack apart. Chairs went flying through the
air; the table was tossed into the wall causing it to shatter and dishes where sailing about in mid air hitting anything and everything in their flight.

"Hoss," yelled Ben as he watched this gentle giant fall upon the rug that covered the unknown secret door in the floor. Tears poured from his blue eyes and he
grabbed his father and brother, clinging tightly to them the sobs gaining in volume with each breath.

"Come on son," Ben said through his own tears. Adam helped his father aide Hoss in rising from the floor and when Hoss slipped in his attempt to get up, the faded
old rug moved with him and the hidden door was revealed.

All four men stared in silence at the door, until Charlie at last found his voice. "What’s that Ben?" he asked.

"I don’t know," Ben answered as he bent to raise the floor by the small leather handle. "Looks like some kind of cellar. Get me that lantern, quick," Ben instructed
Hoss who did as he was ordered. Lighting the lantern, he handed it to his father.

Ben held the light low into the hole in the floor but could not see anything. Adam gently pushed his father aside and dropped into the hole. "Hand me the light Pa."
Adam said as he extended his hand to reach the bright lamp.

Having the lantern firmly in his hand he held it high above his head in order to bring a soft glow of light onto the dirt floor where Joe had been laying since being held
prisoner. Moving in a circle so that he could make out each corner of the underground cellar, his eyes finally came to rest on a heap in the far corner. Moving
cautiously, not sure what the heap might be, he inched his way to the corner.

When Adam realized that what he was looking at was the still form of a small body, he gasped at the sight and cursed quietly under his breath. "Oh God, Pa get
down here quick, I’ve found him," he shouted up to his father.

Ben did not need a second invitation and in seconds he too had eased himself through the hole dropping onto the hard packed dirt floor. Hoss followed his father
while Charlie searched the room for something to help the men climb out when they were ready. Finding the ladder in the corner, he placed it into the hole and
climbed down to join his friends.

Adam was beside Joe talking softly to him. "Joe…hey little buddy…it’s okay…we’re all here."

Ben was shocked at the sight that met his eyes. Here was his son, hands and feet bound behind his back where he could not move. His head was covered with a
nasty feedbag and tied much too tightly around his neck. Ben had to use his knife to cut the strip of cloth from around his son’s neck. As he was working on that,
Hoss had untied Joe’s arms and legs. Joe’s arms fell to his sides limply.

Adam turned Joe over on his back and pulled the bag from his head. All four men gasped as they witnessed the face of the young boy. "Damn," cursed Ben and both
Adam and Hoss looked into the face of their father. Both boys were shocked that their father used such a word for they knew that he would not tolerate such
language from any of his sons. Adam and Hoss both knew the pain their father must be suffering seeing his youngest son in such a shape that would cause him to
swear.

What they saw was Joe’s bruised and battered face, his eyes blindfolded so that he could not see and his mouth tightly gagged. When Ben removed the gag he was
shocked to find that a sock had been stuffed into his son’s mouth. Gathering his son into his arms, Ben gently rocked back and forth, speaking in soft tones trying to
bring life back into the boy.

"Joseph…wake up son…Pa’s here now," Ben pleaded to Little Joe gently patting the bruised cheeks of the unconcience boy. "Please…Joseph…open your eyes,"
cried Ben, the tears running from his brown eyes, leaving tear tracks in the dust that had accumulated on his face.

Joe began to stir and responded to the voice that spoke to him pulling him from his world of blackness.

"Papa…papa…" cried Joe in a hoarse whisper. His mouth was too dry to make his words any louder. "You came…papa," sobbed Joe as he tried to reach out to
the father who had at last come to take him home.

Joe, wanting to embrace his father, could not and his sore arms dropped to his sides from the effort and he turned his head instead into the chest of the man who held
him to his heart and wept. Ben sat cradling and rocking Joe in his arms for several minutes, reluctant to release his hold. Adam and Hoss sat in silence, allowing both
his father and brother to come to terms with their feelings. Hoss wiped from his eyes the tears that had turned to joy, and Adam who was known to rarely give in to
tears, did the same.

"Let’s get him out of here," Ben said as he started to rise but stopped when Joe cried out to him.

"Papa," whispered Joe, using the term again that he had not used for several years. Papa had always been what Little Joe had called his father when he had been
younger and only still used it when under some sort of distress.

"What is it son," said Ben, kneeling down so that he could hear what Joseph was saying.

"I’m wet Papa…please…I couldn’t help it…he wouldn’t let me go," cried Joe looking up with sad eyes at his father.

"It’s okay Joe, don’t worry son, we’ll clean you up," Ben said trying to reassure Joe.

But Joe continued to cry. The embarrassment and humiliation causing him to turn his face again into his father’s chest. This time he was able to wrap his arms around
his father’s neck.

"Please…don’t tell anyone…I couldn’t help it…honest," Joe sobbed into his father’s ear as he held his face close to Ben’s.

"Joseph, don’t worry son, I won’t even tell Hop Sing if you don’t want me too," said Ben.

"Please…Adam…Hoss…you won’t tell will you? Promise me…please…" Joe asked turning slightly from his father’s embrace to look into the faces of his brothers.

"Golly, short shanks, I ain’t a gonna say nuthin’ to anyone, I promise Punkin." Hoss told Little Joe and gave him a pat on his shoulder.

"Adam?" questioned Joe.

"I promise little buddy, your secret is safe with me," smiled Adam who would have promised his little brother the world had he asked for it at this precise moment.

"Let’s get you out of this hole and then we will take care of your other problem," Ben smiled down at his son.

Charlie had climbed the ladder to the upper room and began stoking the fire to warm the room. Hoss gathered Little Joe into his arms and started up the ladder.
Before starting upward, he hugged Joe to him, the wetness of his clothes not mattering, telling his brother that he was glad to have him back. This caused Joe’s eyes
to pool with tears again and he turned his head into the massive chest of his brother to hide his face.

"I love ya, short shanks," whispered Hoss as he held the crying boy to tightly to him.

"I love you too Hoss, and I love Adam, but I love Pa the most," Joe said, turning then to look into his brother’s face, a small smile beginning to form on his own dirty
face. "I even love Mr. Devlin," he added as an after thought.

"I heard that," called out Charlie from the room above who was peeping into the hole in the floor so that he could help Hoss lift Joe to safety.

When Joe was at last brought from the dirt room, he was moved close to the fire for warmth. Charlie started to the door and turning to Ben he said, "Ben, I’ll go
check on the horses, that’ll give you time to take care of Joe’s needs. I’ll do something about those bodies while I’m out too. I don’t wanna embarrass Little Joe any
more than what he already is," he added is a whispered voice.

"Thanks Charlie, and if you don’t mind, check the pockets of those men, they might still have some of the money they took," smiled Ben. "Hoss, why don’t you see if
you can find us some clean water to heat and get some towels out of our packs, please. Adam, help me get these dirty clothes off your brother," Ben instructed his
sons.

"Sure thing Pa, I’ll have it ready for ya in no time," smiled Hoss as he hurried to prepare the water for cleaning Little Joe.

Adam and Ben began removing Joe’s soiled clothing. Each time that he was required to raise an arm or leg, soft moans escaped through his lips.

"I’m sorry little buddy, I know that hurts. We’ll have you finished soon," Adam smiled down at Little Joe who said nothing but watched the faces of his father and
brother turning his head away from them as his clothing was removed so that he might hide his embarrassment.

Adam was careful to keep Joe’s body covered so as not to embarrass him. He knew that the kid was at the age where he was self-conscience about his body, and
since he had already felt the humiliation of having to wet on himself, Adam wanted to spare his brother from more of it.

Adam was true to his word and within a short time, father and son had the boy bathed and wrapped in a warm blanket and placed him close to the fire where Adam
held him in his arms, claiming the use of his body for added warmth. In truth, Adam needed the closeness of his young brother; he had been so terrified of what might
have happened to him that he needed the reassurance that this green-eyed scamp of a brother was indeed going to be okay.

Sleep came quickly to the small group of weary men and to the young boy who held the key to their hearts. Tomorrow they would start for home. Home thought the
senior Cartwright, if it’s true that home is where the heart is, then this old shack must surely be home, for here lies my heart. With that he turned his chocolate brown
eyes and smiled at the sight of his oldest son Adam who now slept curled up next to him. Then glancing in the opposite corner he looked into the crystal blue eyes of
his middle son, Hoss who was not yet sleeping and lastly he smiled down at the sleeping form of youngest son. Gently, just to confirm that the vision was real, Ben
lovingly touched the curls that adorned the head that was resting in his lap. His sons were his joys, his triumphs, his strengths and his weaknesses and they were his
reasons for living, loving each one the same yet differently. Yes, he told himself as he slipped Joe’s fifty dollars into his pocket, I am home.

THE END

Sept. 2001

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