Pickpocket
Perry
by
Heike
"A good deal,” commented Little Joe Cartwright joyfully as he left the mining office with his father.
Ben Cartwright nodded in agreement as he carefully loaded the bulging wallet into his waistcoat. "Yes, but I'll feel much better when the money’s in the safe,” he said. “It's bad luck that the bank’s closed this afternoon. We’d best ride on home.”
"Yes, sir,” Joe agreed, but his manner was restrained as he strolled slowly towards his horse. Ben didn't fail to notice the disappointed look on his youngest son’s face as he glanced back towards the saloon.
"It's rather hot today. What do you say to a nice cool beer before the ride?"
"Sure, Pa!" This suggestion clearly reaped more enthusiasm.
As the two Cartwrights stepped through the swing doors into the pleasant coolness of the bar, the Bucket of Blood was at its busiest. Little Joe spotted friends by a table at the back playing poker so he shoved his way through the crowds to say 'hello'. Meanwhile, Ben went to the bar to order drinks for himself and his son. As the rancher turned around with two full glasses - one in each hand - to look for a free table, he collided with a young man who had entered the bar shortly after the Cartwrights and followed Ben up to the bar.
"Sorry!" said Ben, apologising for his clumsiness.
"It'll dry,” said the stranger, thoughtlessly rubbing at the stain on his leather waistcoat. The shaggy blond mane, encrusted with dirt, the untidy beard and the dirty, frayed clothes showed that he didn't place much worth on his appearance. Since the owner of the Ponderosa stood in front of him with both glasses still in his hands, the young man asked, winking, "Is one of those for me by any chance?"
"Here, please,” replied the rancher, smiling, and passed the young stranger a beer. "Half of it's already on your waistcoat, anyway."
As stranger went to drink his first gulp a voice from behind him demanded, "Hands up!" - and the barrel of a gun pressed uncomfortably hard against his ribs. Very, very slowly the young man placed his beer onto the bar and obeyed.
"Hey, take it easy, friend. I'm not armed,” he said, trying to calm the aggressor - of whom he could see no more than a green jacket sleeve. Little Joe could see for himself that the youngster meant what he said. He returned his revolver to its holster, but grasped the arm of the stranger instead.
"Little Joe, what's this all about?" Ben Cartwright asked after he had recovered from his surprise. He looked bewildered at his son, whose hazel eyes still sparkled angrily.
"I've been
watching him from the table,
Ben immediately grabbed inside his waistcoat for his wallet. "You’re right, it’s gone!"
Totally unexpected, the presumed thief rammed Little Joe in the ribs with his elbow and took advantage of the youngest Cartwright’s surprise to push him aside and wriggle free. Little Joe fell to the floor as the stranger made a dash for the door, but was back on his feet as quick as lightening. With a daring jump he took a dive and, at the last moment, he caught hold of the fleeing figure. Clinched firmly together, the two fought and fell over onto one of the tables, which crashed beneath them. In total despair, the young thief fought as best he could, but Joe - somewhat bigger than his opponent and twice as angry - had the upper hand. Three or four blows were enough to put an end to the younger man’s struggle. Joe stood up out of breath. His opponent, on the floor amongst the broken debris of tables and chairs, sat up and started to massage his damaged chin. Next to him lay a wallet which was obviously Ben Cartwright’s and had clearly dropped from his pocket during the scuffle.
* * *
Sheriff Coffee showed no surprise when the Cartwrights entered his office with their catch a few minutes later. After listening attentively to their report of the events in the Bucket of Blood, he glanced questioningly over to the young man, who until now had said nothing in defense of the accusations.
"And what have you got to say to add to that?"
"Bad luck,” he commented, shrugging.
Roy Coffee
waited, but the youngster said nothing more.
"Then I’ll have to lock you up.
The citizens of
* * *
During their
evening meal Ben and Joe reported their experience in
"Hey, Pa, justice’s been done. That dadburn thief’s behind bars. So what’s the matter?"
"I don't know, Hoss, I just don’t know. I reeled him off to jail because he stole my wallet. But does he really belong there? He’s not much more than a kid."
Joe couldn’t understand his father’s doubts. "You mean 'Mister Bad Luck'? That callous good for nothing deserves a few months behind bars."
"Joe, I
caught the look in his eyes as
"Don’t you think," said Adam, cutting into the conversation, "that if Roy Coffee’s jail scares him enough, then maybe he’ll be spared worse in the future? Inmates of the state prison are hardly treated with kid gloves - and they don’t have fellow prisoners looking out for them.”
Perhaps Adam’s comment decided him, because Ben remained thoughtfully silent for a few more minutes, then made his resolve. "Tomorrow morning I'm going to withdraw the complaint,” he said.
His three sons only had to look at him to see how important this issue was to him. They didn't try to change his mind and Adam tactfully changed the subject. "You haven’t said a word about our deal with the Ophir Mine. Did everything go according to plan?" Their conversation soon turned to more pleasant issues.
* * *
Next morning Sheriff Coffee was not at all enthusiastic about his early visitor. "What brings you back here? Has someone stolen all your cattle? I'm not in the mood to take a statement so early in the morning, so grab yourself a coffee before you make me work."
Ben Cartwright
was unimpressed by the grumpy greeting of his long-standing friend. "Quite the opposite,
"That sounds a much better idea,” muttered the man wearing the tin badge. "And just how are you going to save me some work?"
Ben replied with a counter question. "How’s your prisoner?"
"Judging by his appetite, I’d say he's very well. The amount he ate at breakfast - even Hoss would be envious! I don't think he can have eaten anything substantial for weeks."
"What else do you know about him?"
Roy Coffee shrugged his shoulders. "No more than you really - Perry Hike, seventeen years old, no family, no home. This particular good-for-nothing’s not very chatty, but as far as I know he's not on the wanted list."
"Good. I’d like you to let him go."
"You can't be serious. Ben, he's a thief!"
"I know, I
know,
The sheriff had known the rancher long enough to realise that he had thought this decision through fully and wouldn't enter into any further discussion about it. He pushed the cell keys over the table and predicted gloomily, "One of these days, you’ll rue your good-nature, Ben."
Perry Hike got up hesitantly from the cell bunk as Ben Cartwright walked towards him. The rancher found it hard to believe that the person he saw before him now was the same person who had stolen his wallet. Washed and shaved, his golden blond locks neatly combed and wearing a clean, but much too large shirt (whose previous owner had probably been the sheriff of Virginia City), the lad appeared much younger and much more harmless than the previous evening. Ben was glad that he had decided to withdraw his statement. Nevertheless, spending the night in jail had in no way intimidated the youngster.
"An honored visit so early in the morning? Unfortunately I can't offer you a seat, Mr Cartwright,” he said sarcastically with a cynical smile on his face and pointing to the bunk, which was the only piece of furniture in the cell.
"That will change,” Ben answered in a friendly manner and unlocked the cell door.
This reaction was totally unexpected and shook Perry’s apparently cool demeanour. "What on earth’s this all about?” asked the young man. He stared at the wide open door, but didn't move.
“Out,” commanded the owner of the Ponderosa with an encouraging smile.
"Where to?" Perry Hike looked at the rancher and the door in even greater confusion.
"Where do you want to go?"
"I… I don't know."
"If you’re looking for work, you can start work for me today. I own a large ranch. The Ponderosa always needs extra hands."
The cynical smile returned to Perry’s face. "Ah, I see! We spare the town the cost of legal proceedings and instead of lugging stones around with a ball and chain attached to my foot, I can herd your cattle - probably free of charge, right?"
Ben Cartwright needed a moment to take in the insinuation. "Wrong,” he replied, slightly annoyed. "If you work for me, you’ll receive the fair wage you’ll be entitled to. But I’m letting you go with no conditions attached . You can simply disappear from here, if that's what you prefer."
"Sounds good to me."
Carefully, the youngster moved away from the bunk, observing his benefactor with obvious doubt and distrust. Perry was incapable of understanding Ben Cartwright’s intentions. Then the young man stepped over to the cell door and stood waiting silently. The rancher stood half in and half out of the doorway, effectively blocking his path to freedom unless he was prepared to face the danger of passing this devious stranger known as Ben Cartwright. Ben suddenly realised the youngster’s predicament and took a step back. The young man squeezed past him. Still suspicious and uncertain, he hurried out of the back door as quick as a flash.
Roy Coffee had overheard part of the conversation from his office. "The kid didn't even think it necessary to say ‘thank-you’,” he said indignantly, as the young thief disappeared.
"That,” laughed Ben leniently, "was something I didn’t expect!"
During the following weeks there was much to do at the Ponderosa and none of the Cartwrights thought any more about the young thief…
* * *
Two months later, Ben Cartwright was on his way home from Gardnerville. He felt pleased about the new contract for supplying wood that he was carrying in his pocket. Although his business partners had eventually signed, the negotiations had been tough and lasted much longer than planned. Now he was looking forward to his pipe, his comfortable armchair by the fireside and, of course, seeing his three sons, who were no doubt waiting impatiently for his return. How had they got on without him? He smiled at the realisation of his doubt. He could easily leave the running of the Ponderosa to his eldest son, Adam. Adam knew and understood all the minute details of the daily business of the ranch and would carry out all the necessary tasks responsibly. His second eldest son was without doubt a reliable helper for his brother.
Ben's smiles suddenly gave way to a thoughtful facial expression. Adam’s and Hoss's most important task consisted of looking after the youngest member of the Cartwright family. Unfortunately, the two oldest brothers weren't always successful in this, since Little Joe was unbelievably talented when it came to getting himself into difficulty. Sometimes it was his youthful high spirits, sometimes his uncontrollable temper, sometimes only a chain of unfortunate circumstances. However, where Ben Cartwright’s youngest son was concerned every harmless poker game in a saloon, every ride into the neighboring town, every pretty redhead, blond or brunette who stepped off a stage coach could lead to disaster. In the case of pretty women stepping off stage coaches, a catastrophe was almost unavoidable, since Adam and Hoss were also not immune to the feminine lure. Suddenly, the big man with the silver gray hair smiled again. The three were, after all, their father’s sons.
As he saw the sign 'Angels Dream 15 miles', Ben Cartwright hesitated. In an hour it would be dark and then he would have to hit the hay somewhere out in the open. If he rode into town, however, he could find a comfortable bed and a warm meal. But for that he would have to make a detour of a few hours…
"Get along, Buck", he ordered, having made his decision and turning his mount in the direction of Angels Dream. “The boys can hold out without us for a bit longer. I really fancy a cold beer."
Sometime later, as he rode along the main street of Angels Dream, he wondered to himself why the angel should dream about this town. Apart from a heap of fallen-down houses, there were only four neglected public buildings: a small general store, which also functioned as the post and telegraph offices, the sheriff's office, a livery stable, which also accommodated the blacksmith, and a saloon, which also appeared to function as the chapel of Angels Dream, since a service was held there once a month. . At least that was what was stated on the wooden sign nailed next to the swing door of the Angels Drink Saloon. A second sign next to that promised 'Room and Board', so Ben took Buck round to the livery stable, then returned to the Angels Drink and stepped wearily into the coolness of the bar.
The beer was warm, the steak tough and the barkeeper extremely unfriendly. Ben Cartwright regretted more and more his decision to believe in the Angels Dream, but it was now far too late to ride on home. In need of some peace and quiet, he headed towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms on the first floor.
"Hey, Cartwright, you old crook. What dodgy business has brought you here to Angels Dream?" bellowed a man's voice from the other corner of the room just as Ben reached the first step.
The rancher
turned around, feeling more irritated than annoyed. He recognized immediately the man who had
shouted across the saloon. The mighty
Abe Jenkins was no stranger in
"Pleased to meet you, Mister Cartwright. I feel very honored to finally get to meet the highly-respected owner of the famous, magnificent Ponderosa."
Jeff Tremont's small piping voice didn't match his massive frame and his idle prattle didn't please Ben, but he did finally agree to join the two men at a table for a beer. What exactly the argument was about, Ben couldn’t later recall, but it began with further suggestive remarks about his ways of doing business which the owner of the Ponderosa hotly denied - and ended with Jenkins and Tremont storming out of the saloon.
"I'm serious, Abe Jenkins! You'll be sorry you ever said that!” threatened Ben Cartwright, shouting after the rapidly retreating businessmen. He suddenly noticed that the other men in the saloon were staring at him curiously and realized how loud and angry he had sounded. He pulled himself together and sat down again at the table. To an onlooker, he appeared to regain his composure. However, although he didn’t display it openly, the argument was still bothering him. The rancher decided that a short walk in the cool, fresh night air would help calm him down before going to bed, so he emptied his glass and left the bar.
"Whoops! Sorry! What are you doing here?"
Neither Perry Hike nor Ben Cartwright appeared exactly pleased to see one another again as they unexpectedly collided in the doorway of the Angels Drink Saloon.
“You’re…”
"...Pickpocket Perry,” said the boy sarcastically, finishing Ben’s sentence for him. "I take it that's what you intended to say? But this time our collision wasn’t a business matter - I haven't taken your wallet."
"Oh really?" snarled Ben, irritated, and felt for his wallet. It was still there in his waistcoat pocket and the rancher wasn’t too proud to apologize for jumping to conclusions. "You're right, Perry. I apologize for my lack of trust."
This unexpected, friendly gesture surprised the young rogue yet again and the boy didn’t know how to react. He was spared the need to answer by a loud, agonized scream and a shot.
Without hesitation, Ben drew his gun He ran outside and down a side street in the direction of the dreadful noise. The narrow street was empty save for something big and dark on the ground, scarcely visible in the pale light of the crescent moon which was almost hidden by thick clouds. Ben knelt down and examined the motionless body. His help had come too late. The man was dead. People were beginning to gather around them, men and women who had also heard the shot. The sheriff was one of the first to kneel down beside Ben Cartwright and turn the body onto its back.
"Abe Jenkins,” he murmured and turned towards Ben. "What happened?"
Before the rancher could answer, Jeff Tremont’s inimitable piping voice rang out next to him.
"Sheriff, Sheriff! It was Cartwright. You’ve got to arrest him! I saw him kill my partner. Abe had no chance. He didn’t even have time to draw his colt."
Ben Cartwright was so surprised by this outrageous accusation that for a moment he was speechless. Once he had pulled himself together, his immediate reaction was one of pure anger. He began to speak, but the sheriff, with a furious look on his face, snatched the weapon from his hand and forestalled his explanation.
"Cartwright, is it? I think we may have something to discuss. My office is that way. After you.”
Since he made the request with the barrel of his gun, Ben Cartwright had no alternative but to accept the ‘friendly’ invitation.
* * *
The sheriff of Angels Dream grasped his weapon nervously as the three strangers stormed impetuously into his office. However, his apprehension was unnecessary. They were not out for a gunfight. The man in black, clearly their spokesman, waved a piece of paper at him and explained firmly, "Sheriff, this is either a mistake or a very bad joke."
The sheriff threw a quick glance at the creased telegram thrust in front of his nose. "Mister Cartwright, I take it?" he said hesitatingly.
The stranger nodded. "I’m Adam Cartwright. These are my brothers: Hoss and Joe."
"You’re brothers?" asked the sheriff in amazement. "You don't look very alike."
"Actually, we’re half brothers - the same father, different mothers,” explained Hoss obligingly, which didn't please Little Joe.
"Our family tree isn’t important here", he hissed irascibly. "Sheriff, the accusation against my father is incredible. What happened?"
The three men listened attentively as the sheriff of Angels Dream reported matter-of-factly on the argument in the saloon, the ambushed shooting and the witness report from Jeff Tremont.
"That’s completely impossible. Our father’s no murderer,” contradicted Adam Cartwright emphatically. His brothers nodded in agreement.
"I’ve received a long telegram from my colleague, Roy Coffee. I’m almost willing to believe him - and you,” explained the sheriff, "but I have no choice in this situation. In a few days’ time, the court will make a decision on the case. Until then, your father remains behind bars - for his own safety. Abe Jenkins was popular in Angels Dream and apart from that, Jeff Tremont’s stirred up the town’s citizens against the supposed murderer."
"I want to hear now what my father has to say about this accusation,” said Joe vehemently.
The sheriff understood his impatience. "I’ve nothing against you wanting to speak to him provided that you give me your weapons first."
The Cartwrights tried bravely to hide their worry as they discussed the situation with their father through the bars of his prison cell. Ben described his version of the incident without emotion and his three sons stared at him in amazement.
"But then there's a witness who can dispute Tremont's statement and get you released. Why didn't the sheriff mention this?"
"Because the boy disappeared without a trace after we heard the shot and nobody, apart from me, saw him. The sheriff thinks I made Perry Hike up in order to save my skin."
"We'll find that little good-for-nothing,” Hoss declared, suddenly sounding so determined that the others looked at him in surprise.
"Yes, that's our only chance,” agreed Adam grimly.
"What are you waiting for then?" urged Joe and strode towards the door. "Pa, don't you worry. We'll be back as soon as possible. And Perry’ll speak up for you, I'll see to that.”
His older brothers nodded farewell to their father and headed for the door, too.
"Adam, just a moment please."
"Yes, Pa?"
Ben waited until only his eldest son was left on the other side of the cell bars.
"Take care of Little Joe, please,” he pleaded earnestly.
Adam promised with a comforting wink. "Won't be easy to keep the baby of the family under control, but I'll manage it." Then he followed his brothers outside.
* * *
"Heart of
All three
Cartwright brothers were so tired from the long ride through
“With luck they’ll at least have cold beer here,” groaned Little Joe, as he inspected the ramshackle saloon building unenthusiastically.
"And something to eat,” added his brother Hoss miserably. "Preferably a massive, tender steak, or even better two."
"Now don't get carried away. Pa’d also like a nice cold beer and a tender steak," chided Adam and his two brothers lowered their heads in shame.
They entered the saloon together and discreetly looked around. At that moment, there wasn't a lot going on in the Heart of Genoa. A few men were standing at the bar discussing the price of seed, others were gathered curiously around one of the few occupied tables where there was an exciting game of poker going on with high stakes involved. Now and again, a few words could be picked out from the babble of voices.
"...nobody can stand him..."
"...if you ask me, he won't..."
"...you can have this..."
The young gambler with the light blond hair didn't notice that Little Joe Cartwright had walked around the table and was standing behind him. He innocently pulled out a shiny gold pocket watch and carefully laid it on the table with the dollar notes the other men had placed down for their stakes. One of his fellow gamblers picked up the watch, balancing it in his hand to check how heavy it was. Finally, he opened the watch cover and inspected the decorative dial.
"What’s it worth?"
"No idea. Used to belong to my father. Probably $30?"
All the gamblers looked up in surprise when a dark shadow suddenly fell over the table.
"For your information, that watch is worth at least 200 dollars."
Perry Hike wrinkled his forehead in astonishment. "Do we know each other, mister?"
"Seems so. I bought the watch for my father as a birthday present last year. Don’t you remember - little brother?"
"Oh, sh..." Perry, shocked, got up off his stool as the meaning of this comment hit him. "Okay, okay. I made up the story to increase its value. I found the thing," he confessed, looking subdued. He looked his black-clad opponent straight in the eye.
"Where? In my father's pocket?" As Little Joe suddenly appeared from behind him, the young man became noticeably nervous, but he soon regained his self-control.
"Somewhere. I don't remember."
"I'll give you two minutes - and then you’ll remember."
Joe took a threatening step towards the youth, but the lad felt safe in the saloon in front of so many witnesses.
"Oh, now I'm scared!” he countered with a ridiculing smile on his face.
"And I’ll wipe that damn grin off your face,” hissed Joe angrily. He clenched his fists aggressively, but Hoss managed grab hold of his brother's arm.
"Hold your horses, little brother! You know why we’re here."
The youngest Cartwright brother had no choice but to lower his fists, since Hoss had the upper hand and he wasn't inclined to let him go. In the meantime, everyone in the bar had gathered around the four men. In this godforsaken small town, where hardly anything ever happened, a fight between strangers provided a touch of excitement. Adam Cartwright wasn't enjoying the attention they had attracted.
"What do you say we continue this conversation somewhere a little less public?" he suggested and pointed to the door leading to the back room. The lad shook his head.
"No way. Three against one - d’you think I’m tired of living?"
Hoss didn't find it particularly pleasant being the center of public attention either. "Not a hair on your body’ll be touched, I promise you."
Perry's eyes moved from Hoss to Joe. "That's what you say, but what about him there?"
"My brother won’t touch you,” promised Adam.
The youngster ignored him and instead continued to stare at Little Joe. The youngest Cartwright finally overcame his emotions and murmured, "Nothing’ll happen to you."
The room next door wasn't simply the room next door but rather the saloon’s storeroom, larder and box-room. However, they remained undisturbed as they rearranged some of the boxes and sacks to make somewhere to sit. Perry Hike listened calmly to what had happened after his brief meeting with Ben Cartwright in Angels Dream. Little Joe could not believe that he knew nothing about it.
"But you must have heard that my father is suspected of having killed the man?"
"When? I cleared off as soon as the shot was fired. Gunshots mean sheriffs and sheriffs mean trouble. It's that simple."
"And now my father’s in trouble, real trouble."
Adam hid his worry behind an unfathomable mask and Joe could hardly hold back his anger at Perry. Hoss was the only one who seemed to be openly despairing of the dangerous situation his father was in, so the youngster addressed himself directly to the largest of the Cartwright brothers.
"I'm sorry. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't help your father."
"Sure you could. Your statement would prove my father's innocence. When the shot was fired, you were standing next to him."
Perry Hike shook his head energetically. "Who’d believe me? You’ve already told me a respected citizen claims to have witnessed the murder. They’ll hang your father either way and then get me for giving a false statement."
"At the moment,” pointed out Adam, “the sheriff of Angels Dream believes that this mysterious stranger who can prove my father's innocence, exists only in his fantasy. With your statement, he’d be forced to investigate. And during the investigation, the sheriff would perhaps find something to incriminate the false witness."
The lad looked at the three Cartwrights, his face wreathed with indecision. What Adam said sounded logical. Nevertheless, he felt uneasy at the thought of approaching a sheriff voluntarily.
"Everything hangs on you. Help him,” pleaded Hoss insistently.
"My Pa's life’s in danger. You’ve got to make a statement, please!" Little Joe also urged. It wasn't easy for him to ask this good-for-nothing for help, but his father’s life was more important to him than his pride. It was all to no avail. The lad shook his head in rejection.
"I don't have to at all. Why should I help a man who put me behind bars?"
Adam glanced meaningfully towards his impulsive, younger brother, but failed to restrain him.
"You deserved it!" shouted Joe aggressively at Perry and the youngster returned the verbal attack in the same manner.
"Why? Because I'm a man who ‘acquires’ his money from people who’re rolling in it? He probably wouldn't have missed that money, but my horse and me could have lived off it for weeks."
"He also got you out of jail again,” Hoss reminded him.
"I still don't know to this day why he did,” Perry replied more thoughtfully. He appeared less cold now than he had done earlier and Adam tried to use this convenient opportunity to pursue their request.
"He wanted to help you and now you could repay the favor. If you have other plans, we’re prepared to pay your costs if you ride back to Angels Dream with us now and make a statement. What's your price?"
The lad scornfully refused the offer. "You're offering me money? What would the court say if I told them you bought my statement?"
"I don't want to buy any statement. I only want you to tell the truth."
Even Adam's calmness changed to impatience. The youth seemed to sense it and became cynical again. "What makes you so sure that the truth hasn't been told?"
"My father hasn't done anything wrong!" said Hoss, outraged.
"How do you know that?"
"He said so,” replied Adam simply, as though this argument was quite obviously irrefutable.
This provoked the lad even more. "He said so? Of course he said so, otherwise..."
Suddenly, he pulled a terrible face. He open his eyes wide, rolling them wildly and stuck his tongue out to the side as far as possible, all the time groaning and wheezing, then all of a sudden he let his head hang and was totally still. All three Cartwrights stared at him horrified, then he lifted his head and laughed in their faces. Little Joe lost control. He went for Perry, hitting out at him. When his brothers finally managed to bring him under control, the surprised thief had to take even harder hits. Perry got up and wiped the blood from his ruptured lower lip with the back of his hand with a cynical, "Nothing’ll happen to you, right? The Cartwrights have a peculiar way of keeping their word.” He turned and disappeared out of the back door.
It didn't take the three brothers long to realize that, along with the boy, every hope they had for their father’s release had disappeared. They rushed outside after him, but it was as though he had been swallowed up by the earth - the narrow street was empty. Only two poor farmers stood on the other side loading up their rickety wagons with sacks of seed. They glanced questioningly towards the back door of the Heart of Genoa as Adam unexpectedly grabbed hold of his brother's jacket, shook him roughly and furiously screamed at him:
"Couldn't you control yourself just this once? You know what hinges on this."
Even without his older brother’s accusations, Little Joe was totally distraught. As white as a sheet, he stared down the street as if, with his despairing look, he could conjure up the vanished Perry. He knew that his uncontrolled outburst could have cost his father his life and the more responsible he felt for his actions, the bigger was his guilt. Hoss, sensing the inner feelings of his younger brother, tried to calm the older one.
"Don't be angry with him, Adam. He got to me, too. If Little Joe hadn't got to him first, I’d have beaten him black and blue myself."
"But you didn't,” stated Adam irreconcilably and walked over to his horse.
Joe meekly tried to stop him. "We'll find him again. Let's look for a bed for the night here in Genoa and then set off to hunt for him early in the morning. He hasn't had much of a head start."
He calmly laid a hand on Adam's shoulder. His brother whirled around. For a moment Adam looked as though he had lost his self-control and was about to punch his brother in the jaw. But he only wiped his hand across his face, measured Little Joe up and down with an indescribably contemptuous look and mocked cynically, "Of course, we have all the time in the world. In case you’ve forgotten, the hearing is tomorrow afternoon. If we set off now, bearing in mind that we’ll need to take a few hours’ rest somewhere along the way, even if we gallop as fast as the wind, we'll only just about make it."
He mounted his horse, followed by a dejected Hoss and Little Joe.
* * *
Luckily, the full moon provided a milky white light and the three riders were able, without difficulty, to find their way through the lonely, bizarre desert landscape towards Angels Dream. Midnight was long gone when Adam at last managed to find a water hole surrounded by a few stunted trees, bushes and some grass. He reined in his horse and dismounted. Joe and Hoss wearily followed suit. They had spent the night outdoors in the wide open spaces of the Ponderosa often enough to know what to do. Without saying a word, Joe tended to the horses and Adam collected dry branches and twigs for a fire while Hoss fetched fresh water and began to prepare hot coffee and a simple bean dish using the sparse supplies in his saddle-bags.
Adam Cartwright was the first to finally sit himself down, wearily stretching out his legs and serving himself some beans. Joe filled his plate with beans a few minutes later and squatted down beside him. Adam measured his young brother up and down with a long look composed of a mixture of anger and disgust. Then he silently stood up, took both his plate of beans and his sleeping bag and sat down again on the other side of the fire, as far as possible from his young brother. Little Joe didn't really notice, as he was listlessly picking at his food, lost in thought. Hoss, observing the little scene, lost his appetite. Without saying a word, he put his dish of beans to one side, extinguished the fire and looked for a place to lay his sleeping bag down. The three did not say a word to one another even when they arose and continued on their way at dawn the next morning.
They arrived at the court proceedings in Angels Dream just in time to hear the judge’s opening speech, in which he promised Ben Cartwright a fair trial. The prosecutor, defendant, jury and a good many spectators were present in the court room - formerly the saloon. But whether what followed was really a fair trial was a matter of opinion. The judge described Ben Cartwright’s character in full detail and said what he had to say about the incident that had taken place in Angels Dream. However, the jury’s verdict - and the judge’s sentence -were clear from the start. How could it have been any different?
A number of men gave evidence, testifying to hearing the argument between the victim and the accused and hearing the latter’s threats as the former left the bar. The sheriff stated that he had run out to the scene of the crime immediately after the shot had been fired and had found the accused there with the weapon in his hand, bent over the body. And then there was the eye witness to the crime itself, the well-known and respected Jeff Tremont from Angels Dream, who had, by chance, been standing on the pavement outside his office when the incident took place. From there he had observed the murder and he was able to outline the event in great detail in front of the court. But the mysterious witness for the defense, who would have been able to corroborate Ben Cartwright’s story, was not present. Nobody who had spoken to him, nor even seen him.
Finally, the jury were led into a side room to discuss the case and reach their verdict. The three sons of the accused also got up. Adam looked questioningly at the sheriff, who reacted to the silent plea with a slight nod. They were allowed to go over to their father.
"Pa, I'm so sorry.” Little Joe was in the depths of total despair and could hardly hold back his tears. He blamed himself for the disappearance of the pickpocket and with that his father’s hopeless predicament. His feelings of guilt weighed down heavily on him.
Hoss didn't say anything. The gigantic man stood there motionless, as white as a sheet, distraught, full of consternation. He was choked with fear: fear for his father and also the fear of his family being torn apart precisely at that time when they needed each other more than ever. But the gulf between his younger brother and his older brother appeared unbridgeable. To add to this, Adam Cartwright, who was normally so level-headed and handled every situation with such a sense of calm, appeared to have resigned himself to the situation.
"What should we do now?" murmured Ben Cartwright's eldest son. He felt helpless, powerless to do anything and his wretchedness showed in his face.
Their father sensed not only their grief, but also the rift between them. "Stick together, that's the most important thing. And pray for me", he pleaded.
The sheriff rose to take his prisoner back to the cells, but the judge waved him aside.
"The jury won't need more than a quarter of an hour. It's not worth the effort."
As a matter of fact, after only a few minutes the twelve men came back in, none of them man enough to even look the defendant in the face. The hubbub of voices died away and a hush filled the courtroom. The foreman of the jury stepped forward ready to speak.
"I want to make a statement."
Nobody had noticed the young man enter the courtroom-saloon. Nobody knew how long he had been standing there in the background, listening. The judge was far from impressed by the interruption just as the verdict was about to be given, but since a man's life was at stake here, he signalled the foreman of the jury to retake his seat and beckoned the stranger to approach him. A quiet murmur went through the crowd as Perry Hike forced his way forward to the judge's bench.
"Well?" demanded the judge. "I hope it’s important."
"For him there it’s a matter of life and death,” confirmed the young man, with a casual nod towards the accused.
"Then say what you have to say, young man."
"When the shot was fired, Mister Cartwright was standing with me in front of the saloon."
The courtroom spectators suddenly seemed to all start talking at once. The judge had to bellow for silence three times before a hush fell over the proceedings again.
"That's a very important statement, young man. I’d like to hear all the details. What exactly were you doing in front of the saloon when the shot was fired? And what happened then?"
The young witness sighed in surrender. "As you wish, Your Honor. I’d only just arrived in Angels Dream and was thirsty. There’s only one saloon in this dump, this one here, and I wanted a cold beer, so I came here first. I almost collided with Mr Cartwright, who was coming out of the saloon. We’d already met up before in Virginia City, so we exchanged a few words. All of a sudden, we heard a cry of 'no, no', or something similar, and directly after that a shot was fired. Mr Cartwright immediately ran off across the street in the direction of the noise. I got on my horse and cleared out of here."
"Why? The victim could have needed help."
"Mr Cartwright was taking care of that. And I didn't want to have an encounter with the sheriff. I know a lot of custodians of the law, but none of them are exactly my friends."
The judge raised an eyebrow. That last sentence made the dubious witness still more dubious. "I really would like to believe you, young man, but what you say sounds rather incredible."
Perry Hike looked at him with wide open eyes. "But the man with the rifle must have seen us. Why haven't you asked him?" he asked in surprise.
The judge was becoming more and more irritated. "Who are you talking about?"
"No idea what his name is, sir. Stocky, about 50, nice suit. As I ran to my horse, I saw him standing behind the boxes next to the shop. The light from the shop was reflecting off the barrel of his gun, otherwise I wouldn't have noticed him. It was a Remington Zuave rifle, reliable weapon, .54 cal, rare nowadays, that I know for sure. I owned one myself, had to sell it a few months ago."
"Well", said the judge thoughtfully, "unfortunately nobody has registered you as a witness. We only have the statement from Mr Tremont and what you’ve just said completely contradicts that.”
"And just who is the honorable judge and jury going to believe? That really is a tough one, isn't it? A shady character who prefers to steer clear of sheriffs, a complete stranger in town - or one of Angel Dreams’ best-known citizens?”
Jeff Tremont could no longer remain seated. He had jumped up and burst forth with this tirade. A ripple of whispers ran around the courtroom and the judge cast a reprimanding look at him, clearly indicating that he should return to his seat. Perry Hike turned to peer at Tremont and froze.
"But... but... that’s the man with the Remington rifle,” he stammered, confused.
The murmur of voices in the audience grew louder. Outraged, Tremont jumped up again. "That good-for-nothing’s telling a pack of lies! He was nowhere near the scene, only Jenkins and Cartwright. Everything happened just like I said. Cartwright shot Jenkins."
"He didn't - damn it! I was standing next to him when the shot was fired,” the young man insisted, indignantly.
Suddenly, Little Joe stood up and strode over to the judge's bench to stand beside Perry Hike. "Your Honor, there is a witness who can confirm one of the statements,” he said, seriously.
Against his better judgement, the judge had come to the conclusion that it was no longer possible to conduct a conventional trial. He scrutinized Little Joe thoroughly. The youngest Cartwright stood his ground and looked the judge straight in the eye.
"Right, then. What’s the name of this witness? And more importantly, when is he arriving?"
"The witness is Abe Jenkins. Unfortunately, he’s unable to make a personal statement, but..."
He was unable to proceed further, because at this point the judge, who up until now had listened patiently to all statements, decided that it was all too much.
"Silence! How dare you make a mockery of this trial?" he shouted at Joe, but Joe continued, unshakeable as a rock and obviously unimpressed by the judge’s order.
"...the shot which killed Mr Jenkins can prove which witness is telling the truth. My father uses .44 ammunition for his weapon, but for a Remington Zuave rifle, as Mr Hike pointed out, you need a .54-cartridge."
The judge, jury and spectators took a few moments to comprehend exactly what Joe was saying. Jeff Tremont himself suddenly realized what was happening. As quick as a flash, he drew his revolver, waving it about wildly and screaming, "I had to do it! Jenkins was a cheat! He wanted to force me out of the business, take everything I’d built up away from me. I had no choice - it was him or me!"
He had a crazed look on his face as he turned, full of panic, gun in hand. He swung from side to side, pointing the weapon at everyone who moved. Then as Joe and Perry came into his line of vision, the exposed murderer stopped moving and suddenly stood rigid, so rigid it was frightening, the barrel of his revolver aim at the two young men. In a hardly audible whisper, he threatened them and herded them into a corner.
"You'll pay for this! No-one would have know anything if this good-for-nothing hadn't recognized me. And you, Mister Smart-aleck, since you know so much about guns, how do you like this one?"
Joe froze for only a fraction of a second before he reacted. He couldn't draw his weapon because Perry, scared to death, was standing to his left in the line of fire. Almost as the shot was fired, Joe jumped courageously to one side, pulling the boy with him. The bullet whistled by them less than six inches away and buried itself somewhere in the floor. A second shot was fired at almost the same time. Tremont let out a scream, dropped his revolver and pressed his left hand to his shoulder. His shirt slowly started to turn crimson under his fingers.
Adam wasted no time on the general turmoil of the courtroom or with Tremont. In three leaps, he was at Joe's side. His young brother was lying motionless on the floor, Perry Hike underneath him.
"Joe, are you OK?" he asked, his voice full of brotherly care and concern. He shook Joe’s shoulder gently. The younger Cartwright opened his eyes, groaning, and looked into Adam's worried face.
"I’m fine,” murmured the young man bashfully, attempting to get up unaided. Adam reached out his hand and pulled him up. His younger brother looked at him and Adam nodded approvingly.
"That was brilliant, simply brilliant. I'm proud of you."
Joe understood that Adam didn't have to ask extra nicely for forgiveness. A quick nod of the head, a brief smile, then Little Joe turned around and reached out for Perry Hike's hand. Perry was still sitting on the floor in a daze, shaking his head.
"Exactly how much do you weigh?" groaned the boy, albeit with a smile on his face, as he allowed Joe to help him up.
The heavy burden that he had carried on his shoulders since Genoa had finally disappeared and Joe countered quick-wittedly, "Stop moaning! Imagine how you would have felt if it had been Hoss instead of me!"
Perry voice took on a more serious tone. "I'm imagining how I’d feel if you hadn't been there at all - thanks,” he said, simply.
"I said nothing would happen to you,” was Joe's retort.
Gradually, the excitement in the courtroom calmed down. The sheriff led Jeff Tremont off to jail and the judge brought the trial to an orderly conclusion, despite the continuous low buzz of voices. The proceedings over, the majority of the men rushed over to the bar, thirsty for a beer. The Cartwrights, happy at last that everything was resolved, left the court (now a saloon again) together. Perry Hike, the hero of the hour, followed them slowly and apparently unnoticed. Next to Joe's spectacular feat, his important statement seemed insignificant. However, Ben Cartwright had not forgotten him. He turned and stretched out his hand.
"Thank you, Perry. Now I’m in debt to you. My offer still stands, you know. You’ll always be welcome at the Ponderosa."
Perry made no reply, neither did he take Ben's proffered hand. Instead, he pulled the gold watch from his trouser pocket and laid it across Ben Cartwright's outstretched hand. Since the rancher was prepared to let bygones be bygones, he took the watch without speaking. The boy scoffed, "Me work for you? Aren’t you worried that when I’m around there’ll always be trouble?”
Ben Cartwright smiled as he replied, "Of course - so I’ll always be keeping my eye on you."
Perry noticed that Little Joe had joined them, an unfathomable expression on his face.
"And what about him? Your offer obviously doesn't please him. He can't stand me,” the boy tried half-heartedly to talk his way out of it. The rancher's offer wasn't that bad, but somehow it irritated him a little.
Ben pondered a moment, then asked, "What gives you that idea?"
"Every time he sees me, he flattens me."
"I see. Well, don't worry, I'll keep a close eye on him, too.” The rancher smile at Perry.
Perry and Joe exchanged a glance which spoke a hundred words, then the former gave a gloomy prediction, “It’s bound to go wrong.”
"Well, we’ll not let it,” counteracted the owner of the Ponderosa, optimistically. He went over to Adam and Hoss who had meanwhile been over to the livery stable to get the horses.
Little Joe and Perry still stood motionless, side by side. In the end, Joe broke the silence, "Why did you do it?"
"Give him the watch back? It belonged to him," Perry answered, shrugging his shoulders. Little Joe noticed that Perry deliberately misunderstood him.
Impatient, Joe asked again: "No, I mean why did you testify on my father’s behalf?"
Perry groaned and made light of his reply. "Oh, it was only a coincidence. I just happened to be in town. I wandered into the saloon looking for a beer and a pocket to pick and there was a trial going on in there."
Joe stared at him, dumbfounded. A taunting smile crossed the Perry’s face. “Got you,” he grinned, then they both laughed.
"I really would like it if you came to the Ponderosa," said Joe, holding out his hand to Perry in friendship.
Perry saw the sincerity in the gesture - a peace offering. "OK, I’ll give it a go. But you and your family mustn’t be angry when I decide it’s time to move on. I've never been in one place for longer than a week. It’s bound to go wrong," he repeated, hesitatingly.
"Well, let's not let it," said Joe. Their handshake sealed the solemn agreement.
* * *
Of course, Ben Cartwright's instinct for human nature wasn't wrong. One week turned into a month and the months turned into years. Perry Hike grew into a trustworthy young man, a valued hand on the Ponderosa. And if Perry hadn't been so prudent as to send that telegram and if Joe and Hoss hadn't picked up this stallion, who knows whether... Ah, but then that's another story…
* * *