By Debbie B
Ben
stepped to the door and opened the heavy wooden structure wide, staring out
into the yard. From across the room,
Adam and Hoss stood in front of the massive stone fireplace watching their
father. Guest milled around the great
room, swapping pleasantries with one another as they waited the arrival of the
honoree. The small band that had set up
in front of the gun case had stopped playing over half an hour ago and had now
helped themselves to the punch.
Ben
closed the door, a scowl deepening the fine lines that creased his brow. His eyes caught those of his oldest son’s and
held their gaze for several moments.
Adam could see that the anger that had been present not more than an
hour ago had vanished and had been replaced with worry. Adam watched as his father’s eyes swept the
room as if they were expecting to see the boy for whom the celebration was
being given. When they failed to locate
the subject, the dark chocolate eyes found Adam’s once again and then the blue
eyes of his middle son.
Adam
nudged Hoss and motioned silently for the big man to follow him. Together, the two brothers walked casually
across the room and joined their father on the opposite side.
“Do
you want us to saddle up and go look for him?” Adam asked softly.
Ben
stared, wide-eyed into his son’s face and shook his head. “Let’s give him just a few more minutes,
surely he’ll be here by then. I can’t
imagine what has held him up, after all, he knew this party was for him. How many times does a man turn twenty-one?”
whispered Ben, going to the door for what seemed like to the brothers, the
hundredth time that evening.
“He
sure ‘nough has been actin’ strange the last few days. Reckon that has anythin’ to do with his being
late for his own party?” Hoss questioned as he peeked over his father’s
shoulder into the darkness outside.
Ben
turned with a surprised expression on his face as he looked at Hoss. “I’m not sure son, it did seem as if Joseph
had something on his mind, but he never said anything to me about it and I
didn’t think to question him. Did he
happen to say anything to either of you?”
Adam
and Hoss both shook their heads no. “I
know he was excited about this here party.
It’s all he talked about yesterday when we were roundin’ up those
steers,” offered Hoss. Adam nodded his
head in support of his brother’s statement.
Ben
smiled at a guest as they walked by and then turned his attention back to his
sons. “I’m getting worried about him, I know
he said there was something important that he had to take care of, but he
promised to be home in plenty of time to get ready for the party,” muttered
Ben.
A
soft rapping on the front door caused all three Cartwrights to glance at one
another. “Probably another guest,”
whispered Ben as he reached for the handle, ready to welcome whomever it might
be.
Ben
smiled when he spied his best friend, Roy Coffee, standing in the doorway. “
“He’s
not here yet,” Adam explained.
“No,
and I’m getting a little worried about him.
You didn’t happen to see him in town this evening, did you?” Ben
questioned.
“I’ll
get it,” Adam volunteered and then grabbed the door.
“Clem,”
Adam smiled.
Clem
removed his hat and greeted his friend.
“Sorry to bother you, but I need to speak with
“Sure,
come on in,
Clem
greeted the other Cartwrights and then pulled
Ben
looked from one to the another and then read the note. Adam watched as the color drained from Ben’s
face, leaving his father with a white, ghost like appearance.
“What
is it Pa?” asked Adam taking the message from his father’s trembling hands and
reading it aloud.
TERRITORIAL
PRISON
To
inform you of the release of one, Lucas Tatum…Stop
And
one, Timothy Chase…Stop
Wednesday,
of this week…Stop
Adam
folded the paper in half and glanced again at his father. “What do you think this means?”
“I
wish I knew,” Ben said, the worry evident in the tone of his voice. “Wednesday, that gives those two plenty of
time to get to
“I
still don’t like it,” Ben muttered and then was forced into a conversation with
some of his guest.
Hoss
poked Adam in the ribs and slipped out, unnoticed. Adam glanced over his shoulder to be sure
they were not seen and then followed Hoss outside and into the moonlight.
“I
think we better go look for the kid, Adam.
My gut tells me that somethin’s wrong,” Hoss said in a soft voice. “Joe wouldn’t miss his own birthday party,
not unless somethin’ happened to him.”
“I
agree, but what? I’m like
Hoss
followed Adam into the barn, “Nope, not a word.
I did notice that he crammed somethin’ into his saddlebag though, as he
was mountin’ up.”
“Well,
that won’t help us any. Let’s start in
town and see if anyone there has seen him this afternoon or perhaps earlier
this evening,” suggested Adam as he mounted his horse.
The
bearded man shoved the young handsome man into the cell. The chains that were attached to the man’s wrist
and ankles clattered noisily as he stumbled forward, nearly falling to his
knees. The bearded man jabbed his thick
wooden walking cane into the chained man’s back.
“Step
it up a mite,” he growled in a menacing tone.
The
young man cast his eyes over his shoulders at the man behind him and silently
cursed the dirty bearded man.
“Put
the collar on’em,” he ordered his companion, pointing to the thick iron neck
collar that hung on a ring, which had been hammered into the thick rock wall.
The
young man’s deep-set hazel eyes widened in fear when the other man grasped the
iron collar and started toward him. Joe
Cartwright stepped backward, trying to avoid the hands that attempted to affix
the slave-ware around his neck.
“You
can’t put that thing on me,” shouted Joe, as he stumbled backward. The shackles around his ankles made it
impossible for him to move with any speed at all.
“On
your knees, Cartwright,” the bearded man barked out his order.
Joe
refused to lower himself and stood rock still.
The sudden movement of the bearded man caught Joe off guard as the thick
cane walloped him across the backs of his legs, just in the bend behind the
knees and knocked Joe to the ground. Joe
groaned loudly as he fought to get up, but with his wrists chained so closely
to his waist, it was impossible to do so.
The
second man dropped to the ground next to Joe and though Joe fought with all
that he could, soon the iron collar had been locked into place.
“Help
him on his feet,” snapped the bearded man.
Joe
was hauled unceremoniously to his feet and forced to face the bearded man. “Stand still,” growled his attendant.
Joe
stopped struggling; figuring that to fight now was useless. “Who are you and what do you want with me?”
Joe demanded.
The
man thumped his cane on the solid rock floor and paced back and forth in front
of the youngest Cartwright. “You
disappoint me Joe. You don’t even
remember me, do you?”
Joe
studied his jailer’s face for several moments.
It was hard to tell just what the man looked like; the beard was so
thick on his face that the man’s features were hidden behind the bristles of
his beard. The man’s eyes were sky blue,
but held a mixture of hate and doom in their depths. His captor walked with a limp, carried a
thick wooden cane and tapped it along as he continued to pace back and forth in
front of his prisoner. The man’s voice
sounded somewhat familiar to him, but still, Joe could not recall having ever
known the man before.
Lucas
scowled at Joe and stopped in front of the younger man. “Put the chain on the collar and take up the
slack,” he ordered the other man.
Timmy
grabbed the chain that was attached to a long steel spike hammered deeply into
the thick rock wall. On the collar was a
round ring that the chain was slipped through and then locked onto the short
length of chain that separated Joe’s wrist.
Joe watched in horror, frightened of being chained and caged like an
animal, but refusing to let these depraved men see how frightened he really
was.
The
second man ran the length of chain through two more rings affixed into the rock
wall and then pulled through a narrow opening that had been chiseled into the
rock. On the other side of where a heavy
iron door had been installed, a thick iron lock, making the chain adjustable
from the outside of Joe’s iron and rock prison cell locked the chain into
place. Joe’s wrists were pulled upward
and held into place next to the ring on the collar, making a very uncomfortable
position for the frightened boy to be in, and rendering him virtually helpless
to anything that the pair of jailers wanted to do to him.
Joe’s
breathing was rapid, his chest burned with the effort and he felt his heart
pounding hard, deep within his chest cavity.
“Are you going to tell me who you are and why you are doing this to me?”
he tried to mask the fear in his voice and hoped that the pair would not be
able to see the way in which his body trembled.
“Did
ya hear that, Tim, Cartwright still ain’t figured out who we are!” laughed
Lucas.
Lucas
leaned his face within inches of Joe’s.
Joe’s body had been forced against the cold rock wall by the shortening
of his chain. He could do nothing to
move his head and free his face from the offending breath of the man who was,
but inches from him.
The
man tapped his cane on the floor several times, the sound unnerving the
prisoner and echoing in the hollow room.
“The name’s, Tatum, Lucas Tatum,” snarled Lucas. He tipped his head at his friend, “that’s Tim
Chase,” Lucas sneered and then tossed back his head and laughed at the haunted
look that crossed Joe’s young face as the color suddenly drained from the
frightened features.
Raw
fear filled the hazel eyes that threatened to fill with tears as Joe stared
into the face of his former classmate.
Joe could not believe his eyes, for the years had changed the other boy,
now a young man of twenty-three. Lucas
looked at least ten years older than he actually was, the beard was coated with
gray, a scar just above the man’s right eye traveled downward across the right
cheek of Lucas’ face, gave Lucas a grotesque expression to his once handsome
features. No wonder Joe hadn’t been able
to recognize the man.
“I
thought you said once, that you were not afraid of me…but guess that was a lie,
cause I can see the fear in your eyes right now. In fact, I can smell the fear seeping from
every pore in your body,” taunted Lucas.
“And it’s justified, Cartwright.
You will soon fear me more than the devil himself. I promised ya, I’d get even with ya, and ya
know I keep my promises, don’t ya?”
Joe
swallowed the knot that had suddenly grown in his throat and tried to turn his
eyes away from the piercing blue eyes that scrutinized him. The action fueled the other man’s hatred.
“When
I was in prison, we were forced to look eye to eye to our guards, I expect you
to do the same thing, Cartwright. Ya got
five years to learn who is boss around here, and that’s me. Now look at me!” Lucas demanded.
Joe
gritted his teeth and refused to turn his eyes to face Lucas. Lucas only laughed and then Joe felt the
stabbing pain to his middle as Lucas jabbed the end of his cane deeply into
Joe’s stomach. Joe’s knees buckled
beneath him but the thick iron collar made it impossible for him to fall or
bend over, giving in to the pain. Tears
stung his eyes, but he refused to let them to roll free as he squeezed his eyes
tightly and clenched his teeth against the agony of the assault.
“Look
at me when I speak to ya,” Lucas ordered a second time.
This
time, Joe turned his eyes so that he was looking directly into the eyes of his
tormentor. “Five years, Cartwright,
that’s what it’s gonna cost ya, just like it cost us,” sneered Lucas.
“Scares
ya too, don’t it? I know what ya
thinkin’, that your family will find ya and save ya ass…but it won’t work this time,
cause no one, not even God, knows where we’re at,” laughed Lucas. “I’m gonna make ya pay Little Joe, just like
I promised ya I would. Ya gonna die in
this here cage, with them chains around ya neck and it’s gonna be slow and
painful. I plan on makin’ ya suffer,
just like Tim and I did.”
Lucas
backed up a step or two and turned his back to the chained man. “See this here leg? They broke my leg Cartwright, hurt like hell,
too. They never even let me see the
doctor to have it set…made me a cripple…”
Lucas
began thumping his cane on the floor.
His eyes seemed to glaze over and Joe could feel the hatred emitting
from the man’s trembling body.
Joe
shivered as he watched the transformation take over Lucas’ body. Joe jumped when Lucas screamed out in
frustration and twirled back around to face him. “I’m gonna do the same to you, Joe
Cartwright. I’m gonna make ya a cripple,
just like me, but ya ain’t gonna know when it’ll happen. It’s gonna be a surprise!”
“What
do ya make of them promises, Cartwright?
Ya shakin’ real bad. Lookit here
Tim, the high and might Joe Cartwright’s afeared of me!” Lucas’ wicked laughter filled the room and
Joe turned his head away to keep from watching the evil expressions on the
man’s face.
“Say
it Cartwright…let’s hear ya say…I’m afeared of Lucas Tatum,” the man demanded.
When
Joe refused to acknowledge the statement, Lucas began thumping his heavy
cane. Joe chanced a glance at the
depraved man and could hardly believe his eyes.
The blue eyes had turned red and Joe suddenly felt as if he were in
hell, standing before the devil himself.
Without
warning, Lucas’ hand lashed out and struck Joe hard against his cheek. Joe’s head snapped backward, hitting the hard
rock behind him. He tasted the blood in
his mouth where his teeth had bitten into the tender flesh inside his
mouth. Joe swallowed several times and
glared at Lucas with hate burning in his eyes.
“Answer
me when I ask you a question,” yelled Lucas, the thumping of his cane getting
louder as his anger grew.
“Go
to hell,” muttered Joe through clenched teeth.
His
statement only served to anger Lucas more and using his opened hand, Lucas left
his mark on the face of his captive. Joe
was powerless to defend himself against the attack as Lucas rained his fury
against the tender flesh of Joe’s face.
When
Lucas had finished, Joe’s face was marred by the handprint that left their
brand on the fiery flesh of Joe’s cheeks.
Tiny droplets of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Lucas
grabbed a handful of Joe’s dark curls and yanked his head upward.
“Tsk,
tsk, tsk,” whispered Lucas. “Such a bad
boy…but you’ll learn. Just stand there
for a day or two, and you’ll soon learn to be a good boy, Cartwright.” Lucas released the dark curls, allowing Joe’s
head to drop as far as the wide iron collar would permit.
Lucas
motioned for Tim to follow him and together, they left the cell. The thick iron door was pulled shut and a
large iron lock sealed shut the door.
The light was extinguished, and the pair strolled away to the outside of
the cave that was now home to the youngest Cartwright.
Joe
waited until he was sure that his tormentors were gone before he opened his
eyes. The room was dark, not a sliver of
light could be found and it took Joe’s eyes several minutes before they became
accustomed enough to be able to see through the darkness. Joe felt his body shiver as the cold, solid
rock pressed into his back. He needed to
sit down, but the collar with the chain pulled tightly would not permit him to
do so. His arms ached from having been
pulled upward, close to his neck and made stationary. His ankles burned where the shackles had
rubbed against the flesh of his legs, leaving a burning sensation about his
ankles.
Suddenly,
Joe’s hazel eyes filled with tears. It
was his birthday, his twenty-first birthday to be exact, and here he was,
locked away in a make shift cell someplace where only God knew the location. Though he tried to stop them, the tears
rolled slowly down his burning cheeks.
At home, Joe knew that his father and brothers were waiting for
him. They had planned a big celebration
in his honor, a birthday party to celebrate his special day. His family had planned for weeks just for
this night, and now, without a doubt, Joe would miss the celebration. Joe wondered if his family had begun to
search for him, knowing in his heart that before they realized that he was
missing, his father would flume for several hours about his being late to his
own party.
“I’m
sorry, Pa,” whispered Joe to the darkness as he struggled against the chains
that held him in their cold grasp.
Eventually, Joe tired of his battle and leaned his weary body against
the rigid walls of his rock prison.
“Sorry,
Adam, but I ain’t seen Little Joe since…hmm…night before last. Wednesday, I think it was. He came by here on his way home. He seemed a little put out about somethin’,
don’t know what though. I didn’t ask
him, he just ordered a beer and then left without so much as a thank ya,” Bruno
explained to the pair of Cartwright brothers.
“Want
another, beer?” he asked and then poured one when Hoss nodded his head yes.
“Got
any ideay where he could’ve gone, Adam?” Hoss pondered out loud. He downed his beer and when he placed the mug
on the counter, it clanged slightly.
Adam
had his back to the bar, watching the crowded room for any of his younger
brother’s friends. Adam shook his
head. “Nope. I wonder where everyone is
tonight?” Adam said, more to himself than to his brother.
Hoss
glanced over at Adam and shrugged his shoulders. “Probably out at the Ponderosa waiting for
Little Joe. Come on Adam, we might as
well head on back, Joe for sure ain’t in here.
Maybe he’s already home.”
Hoss
pushed his tall hat down on his head and jerked his pants back up to his waist,
for they tended to slide downward at times.
Adam snickered, amused at his brother’s gestures and followed the bigger
man from the barroom.
As
Adam unwrapped his mount’s reins from the hitching post, he sighed deeply. “If Joe’s not got a very good reason for
worrying Pa, he sure is going to be in a lot of trouble.”
Hoss,
who had already mounted up, turned Chubb around so that he could face his
brother. “I sure ‘nough don’t wanna be
around when Pa starts his shoutin’. Man,
last time he got started, he rattled the winders in the entire house,” laughed
Hoss.
“I
don’t know, Hoss. I’m getting worried
about that baby brother of ours.
Something’s not right, we should have heard from him by now,” Adam mused
aloud.
“Yeah,
well, you know Joe…most times he forgets where he’s suppose to be and when he’s
suppose to be there. If’n he’s found a
pretty little gal somewhere, he’s most likely havin’ himself a private little
party,” laughed Hoss.
“Joe? You can’t be serious Hoss, Joe might think
he’s a lady’s man, but in truth, I doubt seriously if he’d know what to do with
a real woman,” joked Adam. “You saw the
way he nearly panicked the other night when Belle down at the Bucket of Blood
tried to lure him upstairs with her!”
Hoss
couldn’t help but laugh out loud too.
“Aw Adam, Belle’s gotta be at least forty years old! I’d a panicked too if’n she’d tried to drag
me up them stairs with her!”
Adam
snickered and shook his head and then just as quickly turned serious. “Hoss, Belle isn’t as old as you think, and
she’s not as bad as people make her out to be.
She’s a nice lady, and not too bad looking either, when she washes all
that paint off her face.”
Hoss
stared in shock at his older brother.
“And just how would you know?
When have ya seen her without her…paint?” quizzed Hoss as he studied his
brother’s expressions.
Adam
just turned his dark eyes toward his brother and smiled. “Now Hoss, I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I
were to tell all of the lady’s secrets, now would I?”
Hoss
pulled back on the reins and grabbed Adam by the arm, forcing his brother to
stop as well. “Ya been up to her room,
ain’t ya big brother?” Hoss smiled
shyly, the gap between his front teeth clearly seen in the glow of the street
lantern. “Tell me Adam, is she as good
as the men say she is?” he whispered as he cut his eyes around to be sure that
no one else heard him ask the question.
Adam
couldn’t help but to laugh at the expression on Hoss’ rotund face. “Better,” whispered Adam and then nudged
Sport into a canter.
By
the time that Adam and Hoss had returned to the ranch, Ben had sent his guest
home. Hop Sing was standing in a chair
taking down the Chinese lanterns that he had hung earlier in the day. He was angry; it was plain to see by the dark
fire that burned in his eyes. Neither
brother had to ask why or at whom the little Chinaman’s anger was directed,
they both knew. Hop Sing continued to
work and mutter in his own strange language as Adam and Hoss proceeded to the
house.
Ben
was standing in front of the fireplace, jabbing at the dying embers with the
poker. At the sound of the door opening,
he turned and glared at his two sons.
“Just
where in blazes have the two of you been?
Don’t you realize that you left me here, alone mind you, with a whole
roomful of people demanding to know where Joe was and then when they realized
that the two of you were missing as well, they all began shouting at me?”
ranted Ben.
“Answer
my question!” he snapped, leaving no margin of doubt to his sons that he was
very angry and worried.
“We
went into town to see if we could find Joe,” explained Adam.
Ben
seemed to calm, “Well? Did you find
him?”
“Nosir,”
Hoss replied. “Ain’t no one seen hide
nor hair of him.”
Ben
brushed his hand across the front of this face and then looked again at his
sons. “He’s got to be somewhere…we just
have to figure out where.”
It
had been too many hours since Lucas and Timmy had left their prisoner alone in
his dark cell. The hunger pains gnawed at
his insides, making his stomach growl and the pounding pain in his head nearly
blinded him. Joe’s mouth was dried out
and he longed for a drink of cool water.
His legs had grown weak from supporting his body and his knees had
folded slightly, adding to the pressure of the iron collar around his neck that
now supported the majority of his weight.
The
iron door squeaked as it was pulled opened.
The lantern, held high over Timmy’s head, shed its bright light into the
darkened cell and caused Joe to have to squint his eyes to keep from being
blinded by the brilliant glow. Lucas and
Timmy entered the room and stood silently, observing their captive for several
moments before either of them spoke.
“Wa…ter,” Joe forced the word up from the back of his throat as he strained to see the faces of the ones who held him chained against the rock wall.
“What
was that?” asked Lucas, an evil smile spreading across his face. “Water?
Is that what ya said?”
“Plea…se”
stammered Joe.
“Did
ya hear that, Tim? Cartwright’s all
ready learnin’ some manners. Think we
gotta give him a drink?” taunted Lucas as he jabbed the end of his cane into
Joe’s already aching stomach.
Timmy
just smiled but said nothing; he was watching the hazel eyes that were trying
to focus on his face. Something in the
way that they stared at him unnerved him.
“Yeah, why not?” he answered at long last.
Lucas
jerked his head around and looked at his helper. “Naw, not just yet. Little Joe has to tell me something first,
don’t ya Joe,” Lucas said as he returned his attention to the young man who was
practically dangling by his neck chain.
“Can
ya say, ‘I’m afeared of ya, Lucas’…can ya say that Cartwright? Just once, and I’ll let ya have a drink of
this nice cold water.” Lucas pulled the
cork from the canteen he was holding and gently tipped the spout upward and
watched Joe’s eyes widen as the precious water trickled onto the hard rock
floor.
“Just
say those words…and the canteen’s all yours,” smirked Lucas as he replaced the
cork.
Joe
licked his lips, the water looked too good to be true. Joe felt the scabs that had formed on his
chapped lips and longed for a taste of the canteen’s contents. Lucas laughed and jabbed his cane at Joe a
second time.
“Come
on Cartwright, it ain’t gonna kill ya to admit it,” laughed Lucas. “Either say it, or I pour the water out on
the ground,” Lucas tempted.
Joe
watched Lucas’ expression and felt the hate growing in his heart. “I should…have killed you…when I had
the…chance,” cursed Joe, his voice dry and cracked as he forced his thoughts
into words.
Lucas’
laughter faded and he glared at Joe. He
yanked on the cork and turned the canteen upright, allowing the water to spill
onto the floor. His eyes never left
Joe’s face and when he saw the beginnings of tears forming in his former
classmate’s eyes, he began laughing hysterically. He stepped up to within inches of Joe’s
face. Joe could feel the man’s spittle
as he spoke.
“Ya
ain’t so high and mighty now are ya, Little Joe?”
“Bastard,”
whispered Joe, which earned him several punches to his face.
The
blood spewed from his nose as Lucas repeatedly hammered away at Joe. When the furious man tired of Joe’s face, he
turned his wrath to Joe’s stomach where he delivered several jabs with his fist. Joe tried to twist his body away from the
assault but in so doing, one hard punch hit him in his lower back, knocking the
wind from his lungs. Joe screamed in
agony and then succumbed to the pain as he lost contact with the world around
him.
“We’ve
covered nearly every inch of this ranch, Pa, and still haven’t found a trace of
him,” Adam said as he tipped his canteen upward and allowed the cool water to
empty into his mouth. When he had
satisfied his thirst, he punched the cork back into the spout and laced the
strap around his saddle horn. He then
lifted his hat from his head and swiped his sleeve across this brow to wipe
away the droplets of sweat.
Ben
sat staring off into the distance and slowly circled, with his eyes, the
surrounding area. Hoss and Adam could
see the intense fear that had taken residence in their father’s eyes and knew
that Ben was grieving for his youngest son.
It had been three days since Joe’s birthday party that he had failed to
attend; three days of worry, searching and praying. It was as if the boy had dropped off the face
of the earth, for there was no sign of Joe, no word from anyone in regards to
his whereabouts. What were they to
think? Had Joe met with an accident in
some remote section of the ranch where he might have lain, hurt, or wounded,
until death had claimed him? Ben had
even thought that perhaps his youngest son might have been kidnapped, but that
was ruled out after the second day when no word had been sent to them asking
for a cash settlement.
“Pa?”
Adam said gently. “Pa?” he repeated when
his father failed to acknowledge him.
“I’m
sorry Adam, I guess my mind was somewhere else,” Ben said softly, the sadness
in his voice and in his expression visible for all to see. “I was thinking about…your…brother.”
“Pa,
why don’t we call it a day, it’s getting late.
Maybe we’ll have better luck tomorrow,” suggested Adam.
Ben
was worn out and Adam knew that he needed rest, but doubted seriously that his
father would call off his search for the missing boy for more than an hour or
two.
“All
right son. We best be getting back to
the ranch. Maybe Hoss had found
something,” Ben agreed as he turned his horse back toward the house. “It’s nearly supper time anyway, we can eat
and rest up a bit and then look a while longer, at least until nightfall.”
Adam
refrained from answering his father’s statement and instead turned his horse
around and followed his father back to the ranch.
It
was with great surprise that met the anxious father’s eyes when he rode into
the yard to find his youngest son’s pinto standing at the hitching rail.
“Adam!”
Ben nearly shouted as he jumped down from his mount and rushed to the pinto’s
side.
Just
then the door to his home opened and Hoss hurried to join his father. His look was grave as he greeted his
family. “It ain’t what’cha think Pa,”
Hoss started to explain but stopped, seeing the glimmer of hope reflecting back
at him from the pair of chocolate eyes.
“It’
not?” Ben said in a whispered voice.
Hoss
pinched his lips tightly together and shook his head. “Nosir, his horse came in about half and hour
ago…alone. I’m sorry Pa,” Hoss forced
out his words. “I know what ya were
thinkin’.”
Ben,
who had been standing with his hands on Joe’s horse, drew in a deep breath and
let it out slowly. For a moment he was
speechless.
“Did
you check him over real good?” he asked Hoss at last.
“Yessir,
he was clean, no sign of anythin’,” answered Hoss.
Adam
came around to join his father and brother and unlaced the flap to Joe’s
saddlebag. “Did you check in here? You said something the other day about seeing
him stuff something into them?”
“Lordy,
Adam, I plum forgot,” Hoss stated, his voice sounding his excitement.
Both
Ben and Hoss waited as Adam rummaged through the contents. “Nothing,” he told them, “except this wadded
up paper,” sighed Adam as he unruffled the paper.
“Dadburnit,”
groaned Hoss, “I was ahopin’ we’d find somethin’ that might help us.”
Ben
placed his hand on Hoss’ shoulder in a gesture of comfort and turned toward the
house. “Come on boys, we’ll all feel
better after we eat.”
“Pa,
wait a minute,” called Adam, studying the paper. “Take a look at this, wonder what it means?”
he said as he handed the paper to his father.
Ben
glanced at Adam and then Hoss, took the paper from his son and scanned the
scribbled words on the paper.
‘See ya
soon, Cartwright.’
Ben
looked again into the faces of his sons, puzzlement written all over his own
face. “I have no idea,” he stammered.
Adam
pulled a second scrape of paper from his brother’s saddlebag and unfolded it.
“Look, this one says, ‘Watch
ya back, Cartwright’.” Adam handed the second paper
to his father and waited until Ben had read the short message for himself.
“This sounds like some sort of threat or warning, are there any more?” Ben asked and then waited until Adam checked the other side of the saddlebag.
“One
more, but that’s all,” Adam said and began to undo the tiny ball of paper
before handing it to his father.
Lucas
uncoiled the whip and snapped it a couple of times through the air, never
taking his eyes off Joe’s face. Joe had
his own eyes trained on the whip. He
gulped, suddenly terrified by what he knew the whip could do to his already
agonizing body should Lucas rain its fury onto his back. Joe scooted as far as he could against the
rock and let a soft moan escape due to the pain he was feeling in his broken
leg.
“What’s
wrong, Cartwright?” laughed Lucas as he snapped the tip end of the whip close
to Joe’s head.
Joe
managed to turn his head just enough so that the lash missed his cheek. He glared up at Lucas, not trying to hide the
animosity that he felt toward his jailer.
The whip snapped and popped in the air again, this time the frayed tip
struck Joe on his left shoulder, ripping the thin material of his shirt. He winced in pain, unable to move his head to
inspect the damage.
“Hurt?”
mocked Lucas, snapping the whip and catching Joe on the opposite shoulder. Joe bit down on his lip to keep from crying
out and fueling his man’s pleasure that he was obviously getting from torturing
his prisoner.
“I
can make it worse Cartwright. I could
force ya to stand, strip ya down to ya birthday suit and in a few minutes, have
ya flesh hanin’ by threads from ya body,” taunted Lucas as he whirled the whip
around and snapped it at Joe’s chest.
Joe
groaned as he pushed his body deeper against the hard rock, but there was no
escape, Lucas made the tip of the whip sting across his chest, snapping a
button from the front of Joe’s shirt.
“I
learned how to use this in prison. Ya see Joe, after they broke my leg, I
learnt really quick like to be a good boy.
In fact, I was a model prisoner, so when someone else acted up, like ya
been doin’, I got to be the one what whipped them ‘ole boys,” Lucas bragged as
he began to coil the whip. “Best behave
ya self, or I’ll be force to show ya just how good I really am.”
Lucas
said nothing else, but limped away through the door. Joe let out a long sigh and watched his
jailer’s retreating back. Timmy stood
briefly in the doorway, watching Joe as the wounded boy struggled to find a
position that would lessen his pain. For
a fraction of a second, Timmy’s heart filled with remorse. No one knew, not even his lifelong friend
Lucas Tatum, how Timmy truly felt about the youngest member of the Cartwright
family. He’d never told a soul, but to
him, Joe Cartwright was his hero. From
that first day of school, so many years ago, Timmy had watched with admiration
and respect for the tiny young boy as his father helped him down from his big
buckskin stallion and walked hand in hand together to the front of the
school. Timmy remembered how Little Joe
had stopped and told his father that he would walk the rest of the way by
himself, cause he didn’t want the other kids to see him holding hands with his
father. Timmy recalled the tears that
had quickly come and gone in Joe’s father’s eyes and the smile that Ben had
given to his tiny little boy. From that
one day, to this, Timmy had admired the courage that possessed the young man
who now, partly because of his self, might very well die, alone in a cold stone
cell.
Timmy
gritted his teeth as he pulled the heavy iron door closed. Lucas was his friend, his best friend, but
Timmy knew that Lucas had changed. He
had become a mad man, hell-bent on destroying another human being, all because
of his insane jealousy and hatred. He
couldn’t let that happen, the world didn’t need any more Lucas Tatums, but they
sure could do with many more Joe Cartwrights, reasoned Timmy Chase.
Lucas
was saddling his horse when Timmy reached the front of the cave. “Where ya headin’?” he asked his companion.
“Thought
I’d ride into town and get a beer, got a problem with that?” growled Lucas.
“Naw,
just wonderin’, that’s all,” Timmy replied as he poured himself a cup of
coffee. “Better be careful though, might
run into them Cartwrights. I saw’em
yesterday over on the ridge, they’s still lookin’ for Little Joe,” warned
Timmy.
“Don’t
worry, they ain’t gonna see me, and they ain’t gonna find Joe. Ya just make sure that ya stay outta sight,
got that?” Lucas grumbled.
“Yeah,
I got it.”
“I’ll
be back afore dark,” called Lucas as he urged his mount on.
“BEN!”
shouted
Ben
heard the distant shout and reined in his mount. “Hold up boys, that’s
In
a matter of minutes,
“What
is it?” Adam asked, glancing over at his father.
“Well,
it’s about that telegram from the warden at the prison. I did some checkin’, like I told ya I
would. I talked to both Bill and James over
at the telegraph office and seems like that telegram that Clem delivered the
night of Joe’s party was a week old.”
“A
week old?” Ben nearly shouted.
“That’s
right Ben. Seems what happened was,
James got the telegram the Saturday before Little Joe’s party. He had started to take it over to my office
when his oldest son came runnin’ into his office, all excited like, and
informed him that his wife had gone into labor.
James tossed everything down and took off home, completely forgettin’
about the telegram,” explained
“By
the next day, James was so excited about his new daughter, that he never gave
another thought to the message. Somehow,
it got mixed up in a pile of papers, and when Bill came to work the Saturday of
Joe’s party, he found the telegram and thought that James had taken the message
earlier that day. That’s when he took it
to my office, gave it to Clem and Clem delivered it to me that night.”
“Well,
I’ll be danged,” muttered Hoss.
“That
would explain how Lucas could have gotten into town, written those messages and
had those boys put them in Joe’s saddlebags,” determined Adam.
“That’s
not all, Ben,”
Ben
could feel his face beginning to turn red as the anger he had fought so hard to
keep at bay, suddenly began to surface.
His breathing became hard as he glanced around at his sons.
“The
scoundrel,” he swore. “I’ll kill the
rascal if I find out that he had anything to do with my son’s
disappearance. And if he’s so much as
laid on hand on my boy, I’ll….”
“Let
the law handle it? Isn’t that what
you’re always preaching to us, Pa?” Adam finished his father’s sentence.
Ben
cut his dark, angry eyes at his son and glared.
For several moments he sat in silence and then Adam could see the lines
beginning to soften in his father’s face.
“That’s just what I was about to say,” smiled Ben lightly.
Ben
turned back to
“I’m
sorry Ben, I ain’t got a clue as to where to look. Have ya tried those old mining shafts along
the ridge to the north of town? Clem
mentioned them to me earlier. He thought
they would make a pretty good hidin’ place if’n someone didn’t wanna be found?”
“No,
but that’s a good idea. Never thought
about them to be honest. Somehow I
guessed that Joe was still on the ranch,” answered Ben, turning to his
sons. “What do you think? Want to get it a go?”
“Sure,”
Adam said.
“I’m
with you, let’s ride,” smiled Hoss, happy once again to have a plan that might
help them to find his missing brother.
Joe
groaned loudly. The small movement
caused the pain in his broken leg to shoot upward to the upper portion of his
body. Every fiber of his being throbbed
in agony, he shivered, for one minute he was cold and the next he was burning
up. He had not been able to rest very
well, the fever that he felt burning through his body had kept him tossing and
turning all through the long hours. He
barely remembered the cool compresses that had been pressed against his hot
brow or the warm broth that had been spooned into his mouth.
When
he had been able to open his eyes at last, he was startled to see Timmy bending
over him. Joe tried to speak, but his
mouth had been so dry, and he was so weak from lack of food that he had been
unable to voice his gratitude for the tender care.
“Don’t
try to talk, Joe. Just swallow this,
it’s warm and it don’t taste too bad. I
ain’t the best cook in these here parts, but I ain’t the worst either,” Timmy
had whispered.
When
Joe had eaten all he felt comfortable with, for his stomach had started to
rumble and he feared that he might not be able to hold down the broth that
Timmy had fixed.
“Here,
drink some of this,” Timmy pulled the cork from the canteen and tipped it up to
Joe’s mouth. Joe’s eyes locked with
Timmy’s, unsure of the young man who had suddenly seemed to switch sides.
“It’s
okay Joe, it’s not dishwater, I promise,” Timmy said and then offered him a
small smile.
Joe
felt the well of tears that pooled in his eyes, but try as he might, he could
not stop them from rolling down his bruised cheeks. He felt his face redden in embarrassment, he
certainly hadn’t meant to let either Timmy or Lucas see him cry.
Timmy
pinched his lips tightly together; Joe’s tears were ripping his heart in
two. He knew what it was costing this
proud young man to give in to his frustrations, he knew the Cartwright pride
and he knew that Joe Cartwright was the proudest of all his family. Timmy felt Joe’s humiliation and knew that
Joe would consider it his last bit of degradation.
“Aw…Joe,
don’t cry…please…I promise, I won’t let ya die.
And I swear, I’ll never tell a soul that I saw ya cryin’, I know what ya
afeelin’,” whispered Timmy.
Joe
pinched his eyes tightly together to stop the tears and nodded his head. “Thanks,” he managed to get out and then
allowed Timmy to help him take a much-needed drink from the canteen.
When
Joe had satisfied his thirst, Timmy helped him get as comfortable as possible
before he stood up. “Listen Joe, this has
gotta be our secret, okay? If’n Luke was
to find out that I helped ya, he kill both of us, got that?”
Joe
nodded his head, “Please…Tim…ya gotta get me out of here. Is there some…way ya can get word…to my
father?”
Timmy
squatted back down, glanced over his shoulder to be sure that Lucas had not
gotten back and shook his head.
“I
cain’t Joe, he won’t let me go into town with him, and if’n I leave him here
alone with ya…well…he’ll kill ya Joe.
He’s nuts…he wanted to kill ya last night, but I talked him out of it…I
made him think it would be more fun to watch ya suffer…I’m sorry, but I didn’t
know what else to do.”
“It’s
okay…thanks Tim,” whispered Joe as his eyes slowly began to close. “I’m tired…so very…tired…and cold.” As if to verify his statement, Joe began to
shiver and moan.
“I
can’t help ya there Joe,” Timmy said to the sleeping man. “I’d give ya blanket, but it would mean sure
death, to both of us.” Timmy felt Joe’s
forehead, shook his head in sorrow at the heat that burned his opened palm and
then hurried to close the cell door.
“I’ll be back,” he promised softly as he snapped the lock into place and
slipped the key into his pocket.
From
that day on, Timmy, when possible managed to slip small morsels of food and
small amounts of water in to Joe. It
wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the wounded boy from dying. Joe’s leg throbbed with pain. The bone had begun to heal and with the
healing process, Joe was forced into accepting the fact that he would be as
Lucas had deemed, crippled for the rest of his life. Lucas had made sure of that, he had known
even before he had broken Joe’s leg, that the bone would never be allowed to be
set properly and that his prisoner would be made to live his life as a crippled
and twisted man.
Joe
was surprised at the amount of hate he felt in his heart for this despicable
human being. Lucas had stopped trying to
force him in to eating the pig slob and drinking the dishwater. He had been puzzled that Joe had not already
starved to death, he had reasoned that the youngest Cartwright had gathered
from deep within himself, some sort of inner strength that had stopped his
demise. Lucas had given up; he was
furious with himself for he had failed to break the spirit of his prisoner, had
failed at bringing the young man to tears and had even failed to starve the
boy. What angered Lucas the most, and
would eventually be Joe’s undoing, was the fact that Joe Cartwright would not
admit to being afraid of him.
It
was a week after having broken Joe’s leg that Joe heard the nerve-wracking
sound of the cane as it clicked along on the stone flooring. Lucas yanked opened the iron door. He walked alone into the cell, the whip held
tightly in one hand. Joe took one look
at the coiled whip and felt his blood run cold through his veins. He felt his body tremble, the one thing he
feared most was the whip and what it could do to his flesh. His hands had remained behind his back, Lucas
had refused to free them and had it not been for the care given to him by
Timmy, Joe would have given in to his plight days ago.
With
anxious eyes, Joe searched the doorway for Timmy, and then groaned when he
realized that his secret friend was nowhere around. “Where’s your side-kick?” he dared to ask.
“Why? He ain’t gonna help ya, I sent him into
Lucas
took a step closer to Joe. Joe pushed
his back against the wall. Lucas grabbed Joe’s arm and hauled him to his feet
and spun him around so that his face was pressed against the cold rock. Joe staggered slightly, barely able to
support the weight of his body on his one good foot.
“Don’t
move, Cartwright,” warned Lucas as he moved to the opposite side of door and
pulled Joe’s chain taunt so that Joe was not able to move at all.
When
he came back, he stepped up close to Joe’s back and without a word or warning,
ripped the back out of Joe’s shirt. The
sudden blast of cool air caused tiny goose pimples to rise on Joe’s flesh. He felt his body begin to tremble, there was
nothing he could do to stop what he knew Lucas was fixing to do to him.
“You’ll
never get away with this,” Joe chanced.
“My family will find me, eventually and when they do, they’ll come after
you. You’ll never be able to hide, they
won’t stop until your body is in the ground.”
The
whip whizzed by his head. Joe shut his
eyes; the man was toying with him, trying to scare him. He was scared, more scared than he would ever
admit to anyone, but if he had to die, Lucas Tatum would never know just how
scared Joe Cartwright was at this very second.
Again
the whip buzzed his head. Lucas
laughed. It was an evil, wicked
laughter, and Joe thought that if he somehow got out of this alive, he would
never be able to forget the sound. He
heard the crack of the whip and felt the first sting across his back as the tip
met his flesh. Joe groaned softly and flinched,
arching his back. It stung, but didn’t
hurt. This was a game; Lucas was testing
him, burning his flesh without causing a lot of pain. The man had not been lying when he had told
Joe that he knew how to use the whip, he was well trained and Joe knew he was
in for one hell of lesson.
The
second sting of the whip caught Joe in the small of the back and burned worse
than the first lash. Joe bit down on his
lip to keep from voicing his pain. When
the third crack of the whip alerted Joe, he was prepared, or so he thought, the
scream that ripped from his lips echoed in the hollow cell. The whip had left its mark across Joe’s back
in the form of a wide bright red welt that seeped droplets of blood. Joe’s leg folded beneath him and slumped down
as far as the neck collar would allow.
Behind him, he could hear Lucas’ hysterical laughter.
Joe
moaned as the tears rolled from the corners of his eyes as he tried to regain
his footing. The collar felt as if it
were choking him, his hands, still chained behind his back, burned from where
the lash of the whip had also struck.
Again the whip cut into his back. Once more Joe screamed and when his
one good leg gave out completely, Joe fainted.
His body slumped downward and was now held off the ground only by his
collar.
Deep
within Joe’s throat, small gurgling sounds could be heard. Lucas tossed back his head and continued to
laugh. He popped the whip through the
air, striking Joe on his shoulders and watched as Joe’s body quivered and
jerked in response. Lucas raised the
whip for the forth time, his laughter filling the cell and bouncing off the
walls.
“Drop
the whip, Luke!”
Lucas,
his hand poised in the air, spun around on his heels and stared into the face
of his long time friend. “What the hell
are ya doin’ here, I thought I sent you to
“I
said drop the whip, ya ain’t gonna hurt’em no more,” Timmy answered.
Lucas
allowed his arm to fall to his side. “Ya
gone nuts? I thought ya was on my side!”
“I
was, until I realized just how crazy you are.
Ya was plannin’ on killin’ him all along and I ain’t gonna let ya do it,
Luke. I ain’t gonna be partners with ya
in murderin’ someone, especially Joe Cartwright. Now drop the whip…or else…”
“Or
else what ya yella-bellied coward…ya ain’t gonna do nuthin’,” stormed Lucas,
“ya ain’t man ‘nough,” he said and charged his friend.
Timmy
jumped backwards and fired the gun. The
bullet hit Lucas dead center in the chest and he slumped to the floor, blood
spurting onto his chest and coating the material of his shirt.
Timmy
dropped the pistol and rushed forward, taking his dying friend’s head into his
lap. Tears coursed their way down the
front of his face and dripped from the end of his chin onto Lucas’ shirt and
mixing with his friend’s blood.
“I’m
sorry Luke, I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t let ya kill’em,” wept Timmy.
Lucas
coughed and sputtered, unable to put sound to his words. His body arched and life slipped from Lucas
Tatum forever.
“Was
that a shot?” Ben called as he pulled Buck to a sudden stop.
“Sounds
like it, over there,” pointed Adam as he headed off in that direction.
After
going a good ways, the three Cartwright’s stopped. “I only heard one shot,” Ben exclaimed,
looking all around him for a sign that would give them a clue as to where the
shot came from.
Hoss’
big stallion was dancing in circles and he was having a hard time keeping the
horse under control. Chubb spun around a
second time. This time, Hoss’ sharp eyes
spotted something off in the distance.
“Pa
lookit, over there, looks like a man,” Hoss said, his adrenaline pumping the
excitement through his veins.
“Come
on boys, let’s ride,” shouted Ben as he urged his horse into a run.
Within
minutes, he jerked back on the reins, causing Buck to rear up as Ben jumped
from his horse’s back. Quickly he pulled
his pistol from his holster and pointed it at the man who was just standing to
his feet. Adam and Hoss had their guns
pointed at the man as well and waited as Ben stepped forward to inspect the
body of the dead man.
Ben
made a face at the sight before him, the man most certainly was dead, a hole in
the middle of his chest proved that. Ben
glanced up at the other man, noted the tears that stained his face and the way
in which the man trembled.
“I
take it, this is Lucas Tatum?” questioned Ben.
Timmy
nodded his head. “I…I killed him,” he
stammered, unsure of what these three men might do to him. He had recognized them as Joe’s family the
minute that they had ridden up.
“And
you’re Timmy, right?”
“Yessir,”
Timmy replied. “Mister Cartwright, Joe’s
inside the cave, Lucas was fixing to kill him, that’s why I had to shoot
him. Ya best be getting to your son,
come on, I’ll show ya where he’s at.”
Ben
slipped his pistol back into his holster, “Joe?
He’s here?”
Ben,
trailed by his sons, followed Timmy into the cave. It seemed to Ben as if they had walked better
than a mile before the heavy thick door to the cell came into view. The pitiful moaning sounds that reached their
ears tugged at Ben’s heart. His eyes sought
those of Adam and Hoss’ and the fear that he felt was reflected back at him in
the eyes of his sons.
“Get
that door opened,” shouted Ben, fueled by the sounds that reached his ears.
“It
ain’t locked Mister Cartwright,” Timmy said as he pulled on the iron door to
open it wider.
Adam
carried the lantern inside as he father rushed ahead. “JOSEPH!” he shouted as the sound of his
voice echoed off the walls.
“Over
here Pa,” Adam said as he raised the lantern higher so that they could see the
interior of the cell.
“Oh
dear God,” whispered Ben when his eyes had adjusted enough that he could make
out the still form of his son, dangling from his neck collar, the shirt gone
from his back. Ben’s eyes filled with
water as he grasped Joe’s sagging body in his arms and raised the limp form up
to alleviate the pressure on the collar.
“Someone
get these chains off…NOW” bellowed Ben, glaring at Timmy.
Timmy
fumbled in his pocket for the key. His
hands shook so badly that he was unable to place the key into the lock. Hoss snatched the key from Timmy and did it
himself. Within minutes the chains,
including the tight fitting collar lay in a pile on the rock floor.
Joe’s
lips were parted, he gulped in large amounts of air and when his eyes opened,
they filled with tears. Ben held his son
carefully and tenderly in his arms and whispered soft soothing words into Joe’s
ear.
“Shh…don’t
cry son, it’s all over now. We’re all
here and we’re going to take you home,” muttered Ben as he caressed the
battered and bruised cheek.
“Hoss,
help me get Joe outside. We’ll have to
make some kind of travois to put him on in order to get him home,” Ben informed
his son. “Adam, you take this…varmint
into town and turn him over to the sheriff, take the dead man too, and have
Paul meet us back at the ranch. Joe’s in
bad shape,” ordered Ben.
“I’m
on my way. Come Chase, let’s get going,”
Adam said as he shoved the other man toward the front of the cave.
“Hoss,
be careful when you lift him, his leg is broken. Looks like it’s already begun to heal too,”
he said worriedly. “I hope Paul can
straighten it out and set it properly,” the anxious father whispered softly.
“Pa…Pa…”
cried Joe. His hand was reaching
outward, into the air in search of something solid to cling too.
“I’m
right here, sweetheart,” assured Ben, taking the fraying hand into his
own. “It’s going to be okay, we’ll have
you home and in your own bed in just a little while.” Ben leaned down and placed a kiss onto his
son’s brow.
Joe
clung to his father’s hand as if it had been a lifeline that would keep him
from slipping through death’s door. His
eyes searched hungrily for his father’s face as the tears rolled slowly
downward.
“Please…Pa…Timmy
he…saved…my…” Joe’s voice trailed off into a whisper and then stopped.
Ben’s
eyes swept Joe’s face. “He’s
fainted. Come on Hoss, let’s move him
while he’s out so that he won’t feel so much pain.”
It
took several hours before Ben and Hoss reached the house. Their journey was slowed for each time that
Joe cried out Ben stopped to comfort his wounded son. It was nearly dark by the time that they
finally rode into the yard. The front
door burst opened and Adam rushed out, offering to help with moving Joe inside
and up stairs to his room.
“Be
very careful, boys,” advised the doctor.
“Try not to move that leg any more than absolutely necessary.”
Paul
hurried behind the brothers, watching to be sure that they obeyed his orders on
how to gently carry Joe inside. “Take
him straight on up to his room. First
thing we have to do is get those nasty clothes off and clean him up. Then I can assess the damages.”
An
hour later, Paul joined the anxious family downstairs in the great room. He had hardly placed his foot on the bottom
step before Ben was standing, expectantly, in front of him.
“How
badly is he hurt? Can you do something
about his leg? Is he awake?”
Paul
smiled and placed a calming hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Ben, please.
First off, Joe isn’t hurt as badly as I first thought. His leg is broken and it has started to heal,
improperly. It’s a bad break Ben but I
believe that I can repair the damage.
It’s going to require surgery…”
“Surgery?”
sputtered Ben, casting worried eyes at his two sons who huddled with him around
the doctor.
“That’s
right Ben, surgery. I will have to
re-break the leg and set it properly.
But I can’t do that for quite a while.
Joe is malnourished and dangerously dehydrated. Right now my main concern is getting plenty
of fluids and good food into him. He’s
lost way too much weight and needs to gain a few pounds before I can consider
him healthy enough to operate,” explained the physician.
Ben
took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
His brow wrinkled when he frowned.
“Can I see him?”
Paul
smiled and nodded his head. “Of course
you can, Ben. You too Adam, Hoss, just
keep it a short visit. I gave him
something for the pain and something to help him rest, he’ll be asleep soon.”
Ben
turned and started up the stairs. “Ben?”
Paul called.
“Don’t
worry about other injuries. They’ve
pretty much healed over by now; there’s more bruising than there is
anything. I put some salve on the welts
on his back, they should heal just fine,” he smiled.
“Thanks
Paul,” smiled Ben. “If you’re hungry,
tell Hop Sing, he’d be happy to fix you something, supper’s almost ready,
you’re more than welcomed to stay and eat.”
“Thanks
Ben, I might just do that,” laughed Paul.
Ben
eased opened the bedroom door and slipped inside. Hop Sing had just pulled the blanket up to
Joe’s neck and was tenderly tucking it in around Joe.
“Boy
almost sleep,” he whispered to Ben as Ben stood beside the bed. He nodded his head at Hop Sing and when Hop
Sing stepped aside, Ben sat down on the edge of the bed.
Tenderly,
his fingers brushed through the damp curls that had fallen to his son’s
brow. “Joe,” Ben said softly. “Are you sleeping?”
The
long lashes fluttered and when the lids opened Ben saw dull, pain filled eyes
looking up at him. “No,” Joe whispered.
“Are
you in pain son? Paul said he gave you
something…”
“Just…a
little…Pa…” Joe was fighting the effects of the laudanum that Paul had made him
take.
“Shh…don’t
try to talk son. You need to rest and
get your strength back…”
“I
know…but Pa…I gotta know…something…” Joe’s eyes filled with tears as he reached
out and grabbed is father’s arm. His
fingers squeezed tightly, surprising Ben by the strength in which they held on.
“Joe,
what is it son?” Ben took Joe’s hand
into his own and held it within the folds of his fingers. “Please, don’t cry, everything is going to be
fine…I promise.”
“But…my
leg…he made me…a…a cripple!” Joe’s tears
ran freely downward and he jerked his hand free of his father’s and swiped it
across his face. “That bastard…made me
a…cripple!” Joe shouted as loudly as his voice would allow him.
Ben
instantly gathered his sobbing son into his arms and held him against his
breast.
“No…no…Joe…honest…Paul
said later…after you’ve gained your strength, he could fix your leg. Joe…don’t cry…Paul’s going to make it better,
honest, son…but you have to give it time…please Joe.” Ben looked imploringly up at his other two
sons.
“Pa’s
right short shanks, the doc just told us, he’s gonna fix that leg of yours,”
Hoss said.
“Won’t
even have a limp, buddy,” added Adam.
“Come
on Joe…Look at me,” Ben begged as he gently pushed Joe back so that he could
see his son’s face.
“You
still trust us, don’t you?” smiled Ben.
Joe
gulped and then swallowed. “Yeah,
sure…Pa? I mean…you wouldn’t just say
that…would ya?”
Ben
scowled at his son. “What do you think,
Joseph? Have I ever lied to you?”
Joe
shook his head, the tears stopped and he glanced up at his father and then
around the bed where his two brothers were standing. “No…I’m sorry…Pa…I was just…scared…I didn’t
mean…”
Ben
smiled, erasing the frown, “I understand Joe.
Now…you lay down and get some sleep.
The sooner that you get your strength back, the sooner that the doctor
can get that leg fixed.” Ben leaned over
and kissed his son’s cheek. “Close your
eyes,” he whispered.
Joe
closed his eyes as ordered and then opened them. “Pa…please…will ya stay with me…just until I
go to sleep?”
“You
just close your eyes precious, I’ll be right here when you wake up,” smiled
Ben, taking the chair and pulling it up, next to the bedside. “See, I’ll sit right here.”
Joe
forced a small smile for his father.
“Thanks, Pa,” he said, as his eyelids became too heavy for him to keep
opened.
When
Joe woke, it was as Ben had promised.
Though he dozed lightly in the chair, he had remained at his son’s
bedside. Joe smiled at the sight of his
father. Ben’s head was tilted back, his
lips parted slightly and he snored softly.
“Pa,”
Joe said softly. “Hey, ya gonna get a
crick in ya neck,” he giggled as Ben’s eyes opened and his head popped forward.
He
started laughing and rubbed the back of his neck. “I think I already have. How are you feeling, son?”
“Better. How long have I been sleeping?” asked Joe.
Ben
stood up and stretched, giving Joe a smile.
“Oh, about two days.”
“Two
days? Ya gotta be kidding!”
“He
ain’t kiddin’ short shanks. It sure
‘nough has been two days, and Pa ain’t moved from that chair for more’n five,
maybe ten minutes at a time,” laughed Hoss.
Joe
turned to his father, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks, Pa,” Joe whispered.
“I
made you a promise, it was my duty to keep it.
Besides, I enjoy watching you sleep,” Ben laughed lightly. “You’re just like you used to be when you
were a little boy, all innocent and…”
“Aw,
Pa,” giggled Joe and then turned serious.
The smiled died and he began fidgeting with a thread on the blanket.
Ben
was quick to see the change that had come over Joe and sat down on the edge of the
bed. “Something on your mind, Joe?”
asked Ben.
“I
need to talk to you about something, ere…someone really,” he stated.
“Well,
I got chores to do, I’ll see ya later
“No
Hoss, wait…please. I want you to hear
this,” Joe said quickly.
“Alright
Joe,” Hoss said, glancing over in his father’s direction. “What’s up?”
“Pa,
it’s about Timmy…I know he was Lucas’ friend and all, and what he did was
wrong…but Pa, Timmy saved my life,” Joe began, watching his father’s reaction.
“Joe,
what that man did was short of…”
“Pa…ya
don’t understand. Timmy only went along
with Lucas because they had been life long friends. But when he saw that Lucas aimed on killing me,
which he was…he tried to starve me to death, well…Timmy would sneak food and
water in to me. Lucas couldn’t
understand what was keeping me alive, but if it hadn’t been for Timmy, I would
have…died…long before you found me.”
Joe
swallowed hard, the memories of what he had been made to endure where still too
fresh to him. “When Lucas started using
the whip…Timmy stopped him, he shot Lucas…killed him, to protect me.” Joe wiped his eyes with his fingers. “Don’t that count for something? I mean…can’t you help him somehow? Please, Pa, please…will you talk to the
sheriff and see what you can do.”
Joe’s
emotions were still raw and ran his hand under his nose and sniffed. “Pa…I saw first hand what hate can do to a
man. It was just like you explained it
to me, five years ago…Lucas hated me. He
told me why too, and they were silly reasons, no reasons at all actually. But Timmy, I don’t think he ever hated anyone
in his whole life. Lucas is dead, he’s
paid for all that hate he had in his heart, but it ain’t right, or fair, to
make Timmy pay for something that Lucas did.”
Joe
glanced around at Hoss and Adam who had entered silently and listened to what
Joe was telling their father. Joe’s
expression held a look of pleading.
“Pa?”
Ben
pursed his lips tightly and swept the room with his eyes and then fixed on
Joe’s face.
“Alright
son, I’ll see what I can do. I won’t
promise that I can do anything, but I’ll try.
I suppose that I owe the boy that much, after all, he did help you so he
can’t be all bad, now can he?” smiled Ben.
The
tension seemed to leave Joe’s face and he smiled at his family. “Thanks Pa, that’s all I ask.”
By
the end of the second week home, Joe had regained enough strength that Paul
deemed him healthy enough to operate on Joe’s broken leg. Ben gathered around his son’s bed with the
doctor, and Adam and Hoss as Paul explained to Joe what he would be doing.
Ben
watched his son’s face. He knew that Joe
was scared, but the boy hid it well. It
was only because Ben knew his son so well, that Ben could see through the
facade that Joe attempted to keep up.
Ben watched Joe’s eyes, saw them widen when Paul explained that he would
have to break the leg a second time and then reset it so that the bone would
heal properly.
Paul
saw the fear that briefly flickered in the hazel eyes and in the way in which
Joe sought his father’s face.
“You
won’t feel a thing, Joe, I promise,” smiled the compassionate doctor. “You’ll sleep through the entire procedure
and when you wake, you’ll already have a cast on your leg. After that, a couple of days in bed, and then
you’ll be up and moving’ around again.”
Joe
laughed lightly, “That’s all there is to it?”
“On
my honor,” smiled Doc Martin.
Joe
pinched his lips tightly and then smiled, “Okay, let’s get on with it, the
sooner you do it, the sooner it’ll be over with.”
Ben
placed his hand on Joe’s shoulder and smiled.
“That’s the spirit, son.”
Several
hours later, Joe woke from his drug-induced sleep. “Pa?”
“I’m
here son. How do you feel?” smiled Ben,
taking Joe’s hand in his.
“Is
it over? Did doc fix my leg?” whispered
Joe.
“I
certainly did young man,” called Paul Martin from the doorway of Joe’s
room. “And you have my guarantee that it
will be as good as new in just a few weeks,” smiled Doc as he sauntered into
the room.
“I’ll
hold you to that,” smiled Joe weakly.
“Thanks, doc,” Joe smiled, his chin quivering slightly. “I was scared that I would be…” Joe pinched
his lips tightly, unable to finish his sentence. He lowered his head so that his father and
the doctor could not see how quickly the tears had filled his eyes.
“That’s
all right Joe,” Paul said as he too sobered.
“You know son, what was so sad about all of this, is that had Lucas only
known, I could have done the same for his leg.”
Joe’s
head came up quickly and he looked at the doctor. “Really?”
“Really. Oh, he might would have had a slight limp,
after all, his leg had been broken for much longer than yours, but for sure, he
would not have been crippled,” Paul explained.
“He
let his hate get in the way of a lot of things, son,” Ben said. “Hate destroyed him and it nearly destroyed
you, and his friend, Timmy.”
“What
about Tim, did you talk to the sheriff?” asked Joe
“Yes
and
“Now,
young man, think you could eat something?” smiled Paul.
Joe’s
face brightened, “Thanks Pa…for everything, and doc, how’s about a nice fat,
juicy steak?”
“How
about a nice hot bowl of Hop Sing’s miracle cure-all soup?” laughed Paul.
“Aw,
come on…” giggled Joe.
“Joseph!”
said Ben, and then laughed.
“Okay…miracle
cure-all soup it’ll be…but can I at least have a piece of apple pie?” Joe
asked.
“How’d
you know Hop Sing baked an apple pie?” asked Adam from the doorway.
Joe
started to giggle, “My leg’s broken big brother, not my nose.”
The
sound of his son’s laughter was like music to his ears. “I don’t think Doc would mind if you had a
small slice, would you Paul?”
“No,
not as long as I get the first piece,” laughed the doctor.
“Agreed,”
chorused the others.
Five
days later, the judge had come and gone.
Joe sat on the settee with his leg propped on pillows and resting on the
wide table in front of him. He was lost
in his book and never looked up when a soft rapping on the door caused Hop Sing
to scurry from the kitchen to answer the knock.
“What
you want?” barked Hop Sing at the young man who stood in the doorway.
“My
name’s T…”
“Hop
Sing know what name is, why you here?” he demanded.
“Hop
Sing!” rebuked Ben; “Timmy is a guest in our home, no need for you to be rude
to him. Timmy, come in please,” greeted
Ben.
Hop
Sing scowled at Timmy and then at his employer and shuffling his feet along the
wooden floor, returned to his kitchen.
“You’ll
have to forgive our cook, but he’s sort of protective towards Little Joe,”
smiled Ben.
“That’s
all right, Mister Cartwright, I understand.
Hey Joe,” smiled Timmy shyly when he saw Joe sitting on the settee.
“Hey
Tim, what brings you out here? I thought
you’d been on your way to
Timmy
shook the offered hand and then sat down on the corner of the table. “How’s ya leg?”
“Getting
better everyday, thanks,” smiled Joe.
Timmy
grew quiet and began twisting the rim of his hat. Joe’s heart softened as he watched the other
young man struggling to find words to say whatever it was that brought him to
the Ponderosa.
“Tim,
I’m glad you stopped by. I was hoping that
I’d get a chance to thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” smiled Joe.
Timmy
turned wistful eyes at Joe. “I only did
what I thought was right, Joe. Ya didn’t
deserve to die, or be treated like ya was.
Luke was wrong, it took me a while to realize just how wrong he
was. He hated ya, and he let that hate
eat’em alive. It’s all he ever talked
about in prison, how he was gonna make ya pay for sendin’ him to jail and all. I only went along with’em cause he was my
friend, I never thought he’d do the things that he dun to ya. I just want ya to know Joe, that I’m sorry
for ever being a part of it. I should
have realized years ago that Lucas tweren’t nothin’ but trouble. And, I wanna thank ya and ya Pa for helpin’
me out. The judge put me on a year’s
probation and is lettin’ me work out my fine while livin’ with my grandfather
in
Joe
glanced up at his father and then turned back to Timmy. “I’m glad too Tim. I would have died, had it not been for
you. Maybe someday, I do something for
you in return.”
“Joe’s
right Tim, we don’t know how to thank you, my family and I are most
appreciative,” smiled Ben.
“Well,
I learnt a hard lesson. First off, it
don’t pay none to be a follower. A man’s
gotta learn to stand on his own two feet and make his own decisions, be his own
man. And second, hate can corrode a
man’s heart and smother a man’s soul, and its true, cause I done seen with my
own eyes how that works.”
Joe
smiled and when he met the chocolate eyes of his father, Ben was smiling as
well. Both remembered a similar
conversation, five years previous to this one, only this time, it was someone
else doing the preaching.
“I think
I’ve heard those same words before Timmy, and trust me, the man who said them
was right! I saw it with my eyes, too,
and I think we’re both better men for having done so,” smiled Joe.
“I
gotta go now, Joe, the sheriff’s waiting, guess he wants to make sure I get on
the stage,” laughed Timmy as he stood to his feet and shook Ben’s hand. He turned to Joe; “Maybe I’ll see someday,
Joe. Take care, now.”
Ben
walked as far as the door with the young man and waited until he was mounted
up. He waved his hand in the air as
“A
penny for your thoughts,” he said, sitting on the table.
“Just
a penny?” laughed Joe teasingly.
“Okay
then, how about a nickel?” Ben teased back.
“How
about you just sitting over here with me for a little while?” said Joe, patting
the space next to him on the settee.
Ben
quickly moved to the spot that Joe had deemed his and sat down, waiting, for he
sensed that Joe had something on his mind that he needed to get off.
After
several moments, Joe turned and faced his father.
“Thanks
Pa…it’s been a long time coming, maybe too long. But I don’t think I ever thanked you that day
when you tried to make me understand how hate can ruin a man’s life. Oh, I knew you were meaning well, that you
believed what you were telling me, and I suppose deep down, I believed it too,
but at the time, I was so confused and…scared.”
Joe
swallowed and met his father’s eyes.
“I’ve never told a living soul this, in fact, I’ve only just been able
to admit it to myself.”
“What’s
that son?” Ben asked, the love and compassion that he always held for his sons,
showing now in his eyes as he watched his youngest son coming to terms with
something that apparently had haunted him for a very long time.
“It’s
something that Lucas tried for years to get me to admit and I never would. I suppose if he had killed me, I would have
died before ever owning up to it. Funny
thing is, I think he really did know, he just wanted to hear me say it, but I
was too stubborn, but he knew, deep, deep down inside of him, Lucas knew,”
whispered Joe, dropping his head.
Ben
waited, when Joe refused to go on, he gently cupped the quivering chin and
tipped his son’s head upward. Softly, in
a voice that spoke of the love and respect he held in his heart, he whispered.
“What
did Lucas know, son?”
Joe
gulped, his eyes filled with tears and when he blinked, they rolled gently down
his cheeks.
“That
I…” Joe gulped again.
“That
I really was…afraid of…him. Ever since
that first day in school, I’ve been scared of him, but I wouldn’t ever let him
know, cause his knowing scared me more.”
“I
see,” Ben said softly. “Joe, I know what
it is to be afraid of someone, something.
Being afraid doesn’t make you less a man, I hope you know that. It makes you stronger, it gives you a greater
understanding of people around you, of the person that you’re afraid of, and
most importantly, of yourself. I think
something deep within your heart has known for years that the relationship you
had with Lucas was something to be wary of.
Your fear kept you safe, it kept you watchful and it saved your life and
changed the life of another young man.
And it helped you to look deeply within yourself and face something that
you never thought you’d be able to face.
But today, you did, and I’m proud of you son, very, very proud.”
Ben
put his arm about Joe and pulled his son’s head onto his shoulder, planting a
kiss amid the dark curls. “Have I told
you lately that I love you?” whispered Ben.
Joe
giggled and moved his head just slightly upward so that he could see his
father’s face. “Only about a hundred
times…and that’s just been since breakfast!”
Ben
squeezed Joe tighter, causing both father and son to start laughing
loudly. “Let’s make it a hundred and one
times then, I love you Joseph, more than you will ever know, I love you.”
“Pa,
that’s a hundred and two times…”
THE END,
May 2003