LEFT TO DIE
By Lori Henry
Acknowledgments
A “millennium” of
thanks to my very dear friend and “Little Joe Buddy” Marian a.k.a. Joeie, for inspiring me to write this story. It was
through her persistence and encouragement that this story is now written on
paper and the Internet for all to enjoy.
This story is dedicated to Marian and to
the loving memory of Michael Landon, Dan Blocker and Lorne Greene. A special dedication to Pernell Roberts who
will always be Adam and who never really left the Ponderosa.
A special dedication to Michael Landon
who has given me a new life filled with love, laughter and a world of new
friends.
CHAPTER 1
Little Joe never heard the sharp blast
from the rifle, he only felt the hot slug tear into
his right shoulder. The brutal impact from the bullet
lifted him off his feet and spun him around toward the edge of the narrow
trail. Shock contorted his handsome
features as it registered in his numbed brain that he was about to plummet over
the edge. He tried to stop his fall, clutching desperately at underbrush, but
it was all too weak, and it tore away in his hands. He rolled and bounced over
rocks and tree stumps, his world spinning out of control. With a heavy grunt he slammed into a large
boulder. He felt a sharp pain in his
chest, then it streaked like lightning through his
whole body. For a moment, he did not
know where he was; he felt only pain. The jagged boulder had halted his descent
but for a moment he could not breathe at all. The pain was intense. Stars swam before his eyes then slowly faded
as he fell unconscious. His fall
had deposited him on his right side with his back pressed against a huge
boulder and his broken right arm pinned behind him. He had also broken his left leg in the
fall. Lying motionless beneath a blanket of dirt
and debris, Little Joe looked like a carelessly abandoned rag doll.
Slowly the sound of his
own voice moaning beckoned Little Joe back from the black depths of
unconsciousness. As he struggled to swim to the surface, he
felt wave after wave of a severe pain wash over his body. Gritting his teeth, he rode the first
agonizing assaults of pain that held his battered body captive. His agonized cries were heard only by the
wind and the trees. As the pain
lessened, the muscles in Joe’s shattered body relaxed and he settled back into
the dirt and rocks. Joe’s eyelids felt
heavy as he hesitantly tried to open them.
His eyes were open a long time before he became aware of his position. At first, he merely lay there, his mind a
complete blank then memory broke the dam caused by bullet shock and flooded him
suddenly. He knew then that he had been
shot. Through his blurred vision he
thought he saw the face of a man looking down on him. Not sure if the man was real or a pain
induced hallucination, Joe reached out a trembling hand to the stranger and
whispered, “Help me, please!” The
stranger knelt down beside Joe, roughly grabbed him by the jaw and whipped his
head back and forth. Through the foggy
haze in his mind, Joe thought he heard the stranger say, “Damn it! It’s not Maclaren!”
Joe watched helplessly as the stranger
pulled out a large serrated hunting knife and used the tip to lift up the
bloody jacket from Joe’s shoulder so he could get a good look at the bullet
wound. The stranger just sat there,
mesmerized by the sight of blood flowing from the ragged hole in Joe’s
chest. He winced and pulled a face then
said in a soft
The stranger jerked his arm away and
glanced around nervously. Without saying
another word, he stood and sprinted off in the same direction from which he had
come. “Don’t leave me!” pleaded Joe as
he stretched out his hand to stop the stranger from leaving. Little Joe let out a wretched moan as another
assault of pain besieged his broken body and the darkness mercifully closed around
him once again.
When Joe awoke he was cold and
shivering. His breathing was labored and
he felt weak and thirsty. Mentally, he
explored his body. He was wounded, but
he wasn’t sure where. He tried to move
his left arm and found that it functioned normally. He flexed his knees with great caution. The
effort was instantly met with an agonizing pain in his left leg. Tears poured from his eyes as every muscle in
his aching body tensed. He arched his back and a mournful cry of agony escaped
his lips. Joe pounded and clawed at the
granite boulder behind him with his left hand until the brutal pain in his leg
subsided, his cries of agony echoing off the walls of the surrounding
mountains. Joe lay there for several
minutes, fighting off the darkness that threatened to close in on him again,
not daring to move for fear of being assaulted by another attack of pain. Cautiously he continued his inspection of his
injuries. His clouded mind still had not
registered where his right arm was, he only knew that
it hurt like hell. From the deep
throbbing and burning sensation in his right shoulder, Joe guessed that was
where he had been shot. He would later
find out that the bullet had cracked his shoulder blade as it had tried
unsuccessfully to pass through his body. Since he could not move his right arm and he
could not raise his body to see the entry wound, Joe prayed he was not bleeding
too profusely. Hesitantly, he slid his
left hand inside his bloody shirt and jacket to gently explore the bullet wound
in his shoulder. He slowly removed his
trembling hand and saw the black leather of his glove bathed in his warm
blood. Panic flooded over him and he lay
there gasping and half-sick with fear. Nausea swept over him and came up in his
throat. He knew if he were to survive
this ordeal he must not panic. Joe felt
an overwhelming urge to just close his eyes, to escape the interminable pain by
surrendering to the darkness that hovered around the fringes of his vision. He knew that to survive he had to stay awake
and find some way to let Adam and Hoss know where he was. He had to get help soon because the sun was
beginning to sink behind the distant mountains.
He guessed there were only a few more hours of daylight left and he
feared he might not last a cold night alone on this mountain. Winter was fast approaching and even though
the mountains had not experienced their first frost, the temperatures had begun
to drop to close to freezing at night.
Looking up the steep slope he had come crashing down, Joe guessed he had
fallen 35-40 feet. He knew there was no
way he could climb back up the way he had fallen with the injuries he had
suffered so he had to find some way of getting his brother’s attention. His exhausted mind refused to offer any
solutions. How would they ever find him?
He couldn’t move and his brothers were not near enough to hear him call
for help. Any hope of rescue was
rapidly disappearing with the setting sun.
Somewhere in the back of his weary mind,
Joe had a shadowy vision of a man standing over him. Had the man gone to get help or was he only a
dream? The phantom image swiftly faded
back into the depths of Joe’s incoherent mind.
Little Joe now regretted convincing Adam and Hoss that afternoon that if
they were to split up they could cover more ground and had a better chance of
finding and killing the mountain lion.
He wanted to be the one to kill the mountain lion and now his enthusiasm
and impulsiveness were going to cost him his life.
The throbbing in Joe’s right shoulder was
becoming more intense and it was becoming more of an effort to stay awake; Joe
felt himself slipping away. It would be
so much easier to just close his eyes and slip back under the heavy veil of
unconsciousness.
Joe turned his head in the dirt to watch
with the curiosity and amazement of a child as his blood steadily pooled in the
earth beneath him. He closed his weary
eyes and drifted back to his childhood when his mother Marie had still been
alive. The sight of the bloodstained
soil brought forth a long forgotten memory of another time when at
four-years-old he had been playing with his brother
Adam’s knife. He was not allowed to play with knives so he had sneaked it out
of his brother’s room while Adam was out working. He had cut himself deeply and the blood
dripping from his small hand had frightened him. He had run crying into the safety and shelter
of his mother’s loving arms. He remembered the sweet scent of her perfume
and the warmth of her body as she held him tightly, gently rocking him back and
forth, her soothing voice calming all his fears. Joe opened his eyes again as he caught the
faint scent of his mother’s perfume carried like a whisper on the wind. He lifted his head from the dirt to see his
mother Marie sitting beside him. Little
Joe was not sure if he was hallucinating or not. She reached out and caressed his tear-stained
face. In a voice choked by tears, Joe
pleaded, “It hurts Mama, I’m so tired.....so cold!” A weak smile appeared on his face as Marie
reached down and picked up his bloody hand and pressed it close to her
cheek. An uneasy calm settled on him
like a warm comforter and in that painless moment he watched as she gently
placed his left hand on the revolver still strapped to his left thigh. Miraculously, it had not fallen from his
holster during his plunge down the mountain.
As Marie released his hand and faded away into the deepening shadows of
the trees, the intense pain from Joe’s injuries instantly swept down upon him
like an avalanche. Little Joe’s cries
of anguish once again echoed across the mountain. As the pain eased its iron grip, Little Joe’s
fingers curled around the handle of his revolver. “My gun,” Joe whispered. “Adam and Hoss can follow the sound of
gunfire.” Joe was thankful he was
left-handed. Had he been right-handed like most people, he would not have been
able to reach his revolver because he was lying on his right side against the
boulder with his right arm broken and pinned behind him. With renewed hope and trembling hand, Joe eased the revolver
from his holster, raised then pointed it heavenward and fired off three rapid
shots. The gun then fell heavily from
his blood-soaked leather glove to land in the dirt with a soft THUD.
CHAPTER 2
Just on the other side of the ridge, Adam
Cartwright was crouched behind the trunk of a fallen tree, his rifle resting on
the peeling bark. For the first time all
day he had the rogue mountain lion framed within the sight on his rifle. He was waiting for the big cat to emerge
completely from behind the small trees and rocks before pulling the
trigger. It had taken him and his
brothers Hoss and Little Joe all day to track this shrewd beast. Lady luck had finally smiled on the Cartwrights for Adam now had a clear view of the mountain
lion. With the last shards of daylight rapidly fading, he couldn’t afford to
miss this shot. The thought of spending
another day tracking that cat over steep, rugged terrain as well as spending an
additional chilly night under the stars did not appeal to him. Adam was tired and hungry and the thought of
another night of jerky and beans was even more distasteful. Usually it was his brother Hoss who
complained the loudest about missing Hop Sing’s
sumptuous meals but right now Adam would have given just about anything to have
a plate of Hop Sing’s roasted chicken in his hands
instead of the rifle.
A sudden gust of wind jolted Adam from
his reverie. He steadied the rifle with
his left hand as he reached with his right hand to raise the collar of his tan
coat and pull the brim of his black hat down lower over his hazel eyes. He looked up just in time to see the massive
mountain lion tense then spring from the partial protection of the rocks and
trees. It was now or never. Adam instinctively took a quick breath and
held it as he squeezed the trigger. The
thunderous explosion from the rifle reverberated off the sheer sides of the
mountains. The cougar’s sleek brawny
body relaxed midair then fell heavily to the damp earth followed by a deathly
silence. Shortly after firing his shot, Adam’s head jerked
to the left. The funereal silence was
interrupted by the harsh crack of three rapidly fired gunshots. An icy shiver raced down Adam’s spine as his
little brother’s name burst from his lips.
“Little Joe!”
Adam couldn’t explain why he spoke his
brother’s name at that moment, only that he had this desperate, unexplainable
urge to make sure his baby brother was all right. Adam left the lifeless body of the cougar
where it lay and raced back to the spot they had chosen to camp for the
night. When Adam burst into the camp he
startled his brother Hoss who was pouring himself a cup of hot coffee. Hoss jumped up and let out a yelp as the scalding
coffee slopped over the rim of his cup, burning his hand.
“Dadburnit,
Adam! You plumb scared me to death running in here like the devil himself was
on your tail. What’s all the commotion
about?”
“Never mind that, Hoss. Have you seen
Little Joe at all since we split up earlier this afternoon? He should have been here by now.”
“Quit worrying so much Adam. Little Joe is a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
Hoss dried his massive hand on his
trouser leg then asked, “Was that your rifle I heard a minute ago?”
“Yes!” snapped Adam in an irritated
voice. “I just killed that mountain lion we were hunting.”
Hoss poured himself another cup of
coffee. “I heard a rifle shot and three more shots that sounded like a
revolver,” said Hoss as he flashed Adam a mischievous grin. “What happened, big
brother? It take
you four shots to kill that cat?”
“No!” growled Adam as he stomped over to
where his horse was tethered to a tree and slammed his rifle into the saddle
boot. “I took him with one shot! I don’t know who fired the three
gunshots. It sounded like it wasn’t too
far from here. I think we better go
check it out. Little Joe or someone
might be in trouble.”
Hoss could tell Adam was really worried
about Little Joe. Adam was twelve years
older that Little Joe and considered himself more of a father figure to Joe than
a brother. Ever since Joe had lost his
mother, Adam had felt a deep need to protect and nurture his little
brother. Adam’s gut instincts were
telling him something was wrong with Little Joe. He had to do something.
Adam strode purposefully back to retrieve
his rifle and in one fluid motion snatched it from the saddle boot then spun on
his heel and march back to where Hoss was
waiting. Hoss caught a glimpse of the
set jaw and the worry lines that creased Adam’s brow when he brushed past him
on his way to find out who fired the three gunshots. Hoss knew from experience
that when Adam got that expression on his face there was no stopping him. Hoss let out a sigh of resignation as he
emptied the remaining coffee from his cup onto the ground. He grabbed his rifle and canteen then hurried
to catch up with Adam.
The Cartwright brothers quickly returned
to the spot where Adam had left the cougar’s corpse then headed west through
the trees toward the source of the gunshots.
They had covered about half a mile when Hoss reached out a hand and
grabbed Adam by the shoulder. “Hold it,
Adam!” Hoss knelt down on one knee and gently touched the outline of a boot
imprint in the dirt. “It looks like Joe
passed through here. Look....here are
his boot prints.”
Skeptical, Adam asked, “How do you know
those are Joe’s bootprints? They could belong to anyone.”
Hoss smiled and let loose a raucous
laugh. “Because, big brother.....he’s
still wearing that old worn-out pair of boots with a piece of the heel busted
off on his left heel. Remember how Pa
keeps hollering at him to go buy a new pair of boots but Little Joe won’t
listen. I think he’s attached to those
boots, just like a security blanket.”
A
smile briefly touched Adam’s worried features as he remembered the boisterous arguments between Joe
and Pa over those boots.
“I remember now,” said Adam. “Joe was digging holes for fence posts. He kept hitting rocks and had to move and dig
another hole. He finally got so mad he
threw the post hole digger and then kicked the pile of
fence posts until he ended up breaking the heel on his favorite pair of
boots. That was quite a temper-tantrum.”
The levity of the moment quickly passed,
replaced once again by concern for Little Joe.
Adam and Hoss followed the trail of boot
prints for another half mile. The trail
ascended steeply through a thick stand of pine trees then opened onto an area
where the left side rose almost vertically and the right dropped at a 45-degree
angle.
Hoss suddenly stopped. Adam had been intensely scanning the area for
any sign of Joe and didn’t see Hoss stop until it was too late. He collided
with Hoss, let out a loud “Oomph,” then staggered back a few paces. Bumping into Hoss was like walking into a
brick wall. Hoss was tall and sturdily
built like his Swedish ancestors.
“Why did you stop?” snapped Adam.
Hoss looked around and rubbed his chin
thoughtfully. “Joe’s boot prints end
here, Adam. Like he
plumb disappeared into thin air.”
Losing his patience, Adam snapped,
“That’s impossible!”
“See for yourself, big brother.” Hoss stepped aside to allow Adam to see the
trail. Adam studied the trail then fixed
Hoss with a quizzical look.
Hoss turned slowly in a circle, searching
the trees and rocks that led upward then paused to glance down the steep
drop-off on their right. In the
remaining light, Hoss caught a glimpse of a rifle resting in the rocks about
eight feet below where they stood.
“Adam...look!”
shouted Hoss excitedly. “Down there!”
Following Hoss’s
outstretched hand, Adam quickly shifted his gaze
downward into the deepening shadows below him. He saw it too.....a rifle. The
twilight provided enough light for Adam to make out the initials JC on
the stock of the rifle. Adam had given
Little Joe that rifle last year for his twenty-second birthday.
Both brothers looked up and locked eyes,
the same terrifying thought racing through their minds. “Oh my God!” uttered Adam. “Joe’s down there!”
Far below Adam and Hoss, Little Joe could
hear faint voices drifting down like delicate snowflakes. Joe lay with his cheek in a gathering pool of
his own blood, shivering and whimpering like a child. Suddenly the sound of Adam and Hoss shouting
his name broke through Joe’s delirium.
He opened his glazed eyes and frantically tried to locate his six shooter. He
could not remember what had happened to it after he had fired it the first
time. As if his hand was guided by the
feathery touch of an angel, his exhausted fingers found the revolver. He had no strength left to lift the firearm
so he turned it away from his body and fired three more shots. Adam and Hoss’s
worst fears were confirmed when they heard the gunfire. Hoss glanced downward into the menacing
shadows in time to see the flash from the muzzle of Joe’s revolver.
“Look Adam, over there!” shouted Hoss.
Adam had seen the flash of light
too. Without any consideration for his
own safety, Adam recklessly leaped over the edge of the precipice. Gravity took over and sent him into an
uncontrolled slide. Adam shifted his
weight into a back stance and dug his heels into the loose earth. A sharp pain shot through his hip as rock and
shale tore through the fabric of his black pants. His wild slide triggered another avalanche of
debris that swept over the motionless form of Little Joe. When his little brother’s body came into
view, Adam dug his heels further into the earth to halt his descent
. The sun had nearly set behind
the distant mountains but enough light remained for Adam to see Little
Joe. Adam ignored Hoss’s
frantic shouts from above as he hurriedly brushed the dirt from Joe’s clothing
and face then placed his fingers on the artery in Little Joe’s neck. His pulse was weak and his face felt cold. Adam looked upward into the dusky sky and
mouthed a silent prayer of thanks before he turned and shouted to Hoss. “I found him!
It looks like he’s busted up pretty bad but he’s alive.”
Adam quickly checked Joe’s legs and left
arm for broken bones. Little Joe’s left
arm and right leg where fine but his left leg was broken. Adam reached down and tenderly wiped the mud from Joe’s
tear-stained face. As he withdrew his
hand, he felt something warm and sticky on his fingers. It was blood.
With a renewed urgency, Adam realized Little Joe was bleeding from a
serious wound somewhere on the right side of his body. To get at the source of the blood, Adam would
have to move Little Joe off his right side and onto his back.
He could not get to Joe’s right arm to
help roll him over because it appeared to be pinned behind him against the
boulder. While Adam was contemplating
how to move his brother, Little Joe slowly regained consciousness. Adam gave his little brother a crooked smile.
“Welcome back, short shanks.”
“Adam?
Uhhh....It hurts so much! Pleeeeaaasse......
help me!” cried Little Joe.
“Shhhh, shhhhh,
Joe. Try not to move,” murmured Adam.
“I’m going to have to move you onto your back to free your right arm and
I need to find out where all this blood is coming from.” Joe tried to answer but he was suddenly
overcome by another wave of pain. Joe
let out another gut-wrenching cry as he grabbed and held onto Adam’s hand until
the pain eased. A tear formed at the
corner of Adam’s eye as he squeezed his brother’s trembling hand and listened
to his agonized sobs. He was helpless to
do anything to ease Little Joe’s suffering.
As soon as he felt Joe’s muscles relax,
Adam said, “Joe, I’m sorry but this is going to hurt like hell! I have to move you and there is only one way
to do this.” Without waiting for a
reply, Adam maneuvered himself until he was straddling Joe’s prone form then
reached down with both hands, grabbed the lapels of Joe’s green jacket and
lifted him up off the ground. Little Joe
threw his head back and cried out in pain.
As soon as the arm was free, Adam carefully guided it clear of Joe’s
body with his left boot then as gently as possible lowered his brother onto his
back.
Hoss, who had been frantically pacing back
and forth like a wild animal waiting for word from Adam, suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He clenched his massive fists, his blood
turning to ice as Joe’s tormented wails drifted up to him. He desperately
wanted to go down and comfort his little brother but he knew he could help Joe
more by waiting up above for instructions on what to do next.
“Throw down the canteen then hurry back
to the camp and get me some blankets!” Adam shouted up to Hoss.
Hoss carefully judged the distance to
Adam and Joe then swung the canteen in a gentle arc. He said a prayer that it
would not get tangled up in the trees as he let go of the leather strap. He
watched while it disappeared into the Stygian darkness below. Satisfied the throw was good, Hoss turned on
his heel and dashed back to their camp to get blankets and any other supplies
that his older brother might need.
Adam heard the canteen land with a soft
thud in the dirt just a few feet to his left.
Mindful not to loosen any more rocks and dirt onto Joe, Adam crawled on his hands and knees to
where he heard the canteen land. As if
the angels were watching over them, a shaft of moonlight showed Adam the
location of the canteen. He quickly
grabbed the strap and slid back to Joe on his bottom. There was enough light from the moon for Adam
to see Joe’s prone body on the ground before him. Judging from his irregular breathing and the
soft sounds of movement,
Adam guessed Joe had not passed out from the trauma of being
moved onto his back. Before looking for
the source of blood, Adam carefully lifted Little Joe’s head and held the
canteen to his lips. He gently poured water into Joe’s mouth then lowered his
head back onto the ground. Adam sucked
in a quick breath then exhaled loudly when he saw Joe’s bloody right shoulder. “My God, Joe! Who did this to you?” whispered Adam. Grimacing, Adam tentatively unbuttoned Joe’s
jacket and shirt then lifted the blood-soaked fabric to get a good look at the
wound. The moonlight revealed that blood
was still seeping from the hole in Joe’s shoulder. Oblivious to the cold night air, Adam
hurriedly shrugged out of his coat then proceeded to strip off his shirt. He was thankful for the long-underwear he had
put on that morning. He ripped his shirt
in half, wadded it up then pressed one half against the wound. Joe let out another wretched moan as he
squirmed beneath the pressure Adam was placing on his throbbing shoulder.
“Lie still, Joe,” commanded Adam in his deep baritone
voice.
Adam could see that Joe was shivering so
he released the pressure long enough to cover Little Joe with his coat. Even though Joe was a grown man with broad
shoulders and a muscular well-defined chest, Adam couldn’t help but notice how
small and fragile his brother looked lying on the ground at his feet. Little Joe opened his eyes slowly and tried
to focus on his dark surroundings.
“Adam, my shoulder.....my arm.....it hurts so bad!”
“I know, Joe,” answered Adam. “You took a bullet in your right shoulder and
your right arm and left leg are busted up pretty bad from the fall. Just try to lie as still as possible. I’ve got to stop this bleeding then I’m going
to have to try to set and splint your arm and leg.”
“I’m cold, Adam.....so cold!” choked Joe between
spasms of pain.
“Just hold on a little while longer. Hoss
should be back any minute now with some blankets. We’ll get you warmed up in no time.”
Even though he was terribly worried about
his little brother, Adam tried to keep a positive note to his voice. He didn’t
want Joe to know just how bad the situation really was.
For what felt like the hundredth time,
Adam glanced back up the steep incline into the suffocating darkness, expecting
to hear Hoss’s voice calling down to them.
“What’s taking him so long?” muttered
Adam under his breath.
Joe’s shivering episodes were getting
longer and more intense. Each time his
body shook with the spasms it would jar the broken bones in his arm and leg
causing him to cry out.
Just as Joe’s last whimpers faded away, the
stillness was broken by Hoss’s urgent shouts. “Adam!......
Joe!”
Still maintaining constant pressure on
Joe’s wounded shoulder, Adam looked up and hollered, “Here, Hoss. Follow the
sound of my voice.”
“Dadburnit!”
cursed Hoss. “I can’t see where you’re
at. Its blackern’
a stack of stove lids down there. Fire
off a shot so I can see where you’re at!”
Adam deftly drew his revolver and fired
two shots into the starry sky. Hoss had
only misjudged their position by fifteen feet.
He quickly compensated for the error and shouted down to Adam, “I
brought you blankets, rope, a knife, more water and some food. I’ve tied it up
into a bundle. I’ll have to try to lower
it to you or you can try to climb up and get it.”
Adam glanced down at Joe apprehensively
then back up into the darkness. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Joe alone
for even one second but with all the rocks and trees and other unseen obstacles
it would be difficult to lower the bundle down without getting it caught up on
something. Adam had no choice. He knew he would have to climb back up the
steep slope to get the package from Hoss.
“Hold on, Hoss!” shouted Adam. “I’m coming up to get it!”
Adam looked down at Little Joe and said,
“Hoss is back with the blankets and other supplies. I’m going to have to leave
you for a few minutes but I promise I’ll be right back.”
Little Joe managed a weak smile, grasped Adam’s hand
and whispered, “Be careful!”
Adam smiled briefly as he tucked Joe’s
hand back under his coat then turned to determine the best route back to the
top.
Adam was thankful for a full moon
tonight. The bright silvery glow blazed
a trail that allowed him to swiftly climb back up the slope to retrieve the
precious supplies.
As soon as Adam appeared out of the
darkness, Hoss reached out and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him effortlessly
up the remaining three feet. “How is
he?” asked Hoss, a note of distress in his voice.
Adam shook his head. “Not very good, I’m
afraid. He has a bullet in his right shoulder,
a broken arm and leg and I suspect a few broken ribs. I am really concerned
about that bullet wound. I haven’t been
able to stop the bleeding yet. Spending
the night up here lying on the ground in this cold air is going to be really
hard on him. He’s in for an extremely rough night. I’m worried that he might not make it.”
Hoss removed a coiled rope from his shoulder and
proceeded to tie it securely to the nearest tree. “Its up to you,
Adam. You have to get him through the
night,” said Hoss. “Joe’s counting on
you.”
Hoss finished securing the rope to a tree
then handed it to Adam. “Here, Adam.
Hang onto this rope when you go back down.
I guarantee it’s a lot less painful than the way you first went down,” chuckled Hoss.
Adam slung the bundle of supplies over
his shoulder then turned to Hoss. “Ride
back to the Ponderosa as fast as possible.
Bring Pa, some of the hands and a wagon.
Load it with bandages, block-and-tackle, more blankets and something to
strap Joe onto so we can haul him up this steep incline.”
“Don’t you worry, Adam.... tell Joe I’ll
be back with help before you know it.
You just take good care of him, ya hear?”
called Hoss as he disappeared into the darkness.
Adam pulled his gloves out of his pocket,
slipped them over his cold hands then picked up the rope and used it as a
guideline to descend back into the darkness where Little Joe waited. He had no sooner started his descent when a
pitiful wail below him shattered the silence and pierced his heart. Once again at Joe’s side, Adam briskly unwrapped the bundle and
pulled out the blankets. He removed his
coat from Joe and put it back on then proceeded to cover his shivering brother
with all the blankets. The temperature
was dropping fast and Adam began to shiver too.
He could only imagine how cold Little Joe must feel lying on the ground.
“Still with me, little brother?” asked
Adam as he knelt by Joe’s side so he could recheck Joe’s shoulder wound. He was relieved to see the bleeding had
almost completely stopped.
Joe only muttered incoherent phrases in
response as his head rolled slowly back and forth.
“Now for the difficult part,” thought
Adam as he glanced around for anything he could use as a splint to support
Joe’s broken limbs. Luck was on his side
for he quickly spotted two long heavy branches that would work great for a leg
splint. It wasn’t long before he spotted
two shorter ones to use for an arm splint.
Adam pulled out his knife and commenced
to cut off any side growth from the branches and smooth out any rough spots
before maneuvering down by Joe’s broken left leg. Adam shook his head and whispered, “I’m sorry
but I’m going to have to hurt you, Joe.”
He firmly ran his hands up Joe’s leg
trying to feel for the location and position of the break. From what he could feel, Adam surmised that
Joe’s tibia had snapped in half as a result of the fall. The two ends of the bone were out of
alignment and would have to be realigned before Adam could splint the leg. A scowl settled on Adam’s handsome features
as he grabbed Joe’s leg by the ankle with his right hand and held down the knee
with his left. He gritted his teeth then
pulled Joe’s ankle toward him with one tremendous yank. Little Joe arched his back and let loose a
blood-curdling scream. Choking sobs
filled the air as he tried to twist out of Adam’s grasp. Joe wasn’t the only one crying at that
moment. Two small tears sparkled like
diamonds at the corner of Adam’s eyes. It was breaking his heart to have to
inflict more pain on his little brother.
Satisfied the leg was properly set, Adam firmly
bound up Joe’s leg between the two pieces of wood with the rope that Hoss had
provided for just this task. “Now for
the arm,” thought Adam as he repositioned himself close to Joe’s head. He reached out to smooth the dark brown curls
from Joe’s tear streaked face before facing the unpleasant task of setting
Joe’s right arm. He decided to wait a
few minutes to allow Joe time to rest.
“Just one more time... I promise, then I won’t hurt
you again,” promised Adam.
“Just...get....it....over
with......Adam,” muttered Joe between labored breaths.
Adam reached under the blankets for Joe’s
broken arm. He again repeated the
process of gently probing the arm to feel for the break. Adam’s frown deepened when he realized this
break was more complicated than he could handle. He was reluctant to try to fix it. He feared if he did it wrong then Joe’s arm
would have to be broken again or his amateur attempt at doctoring would leave
Joe only partial use of the arm or worse yet, no use at all. This break would have to wait to be set by
the skilled hands of Doc Martin.
“I’m sorry Joe, I can’t set this one,”
said Adam, a slight quiver in his voice.
All Adam could do for Joe’s arm was
carefully immobilize the injured arm in a splint. Satisfied with his handiwork, he gently
tucked Joe’s right arm back under the blankets next to his trembling body.
Still crouching on his heels, Adam
shuddered and let out an uneasy sigh. He
glanced down at the face of his baby brother then up to the star-studded
heavens in time to see one of the celestial stars dart silently across the
indifferent October sky then vanish forever.
Adam continued staring at the sky as if searching the heavens for
guidance and mercy,
praying that his little brother would survive the night. The spiritual moment was broken by the
distant ghostly howls of a timber wolf and the soft moans and shuffling noises
of Little Joe squirming beneath the blankets.
“Easy there, Joe... just take it easy,”
whispered Adam in a soothing voice as he brushed his hand across Joe’s icy
brow.
“Damn, he’s losing too much body heat!”
cursed Adam as he glanced around frantically for a safe spot to build a
fire. He had to warm up Joe fast! Again Adam cursed the desperateness of their
situation for there was no flat ground to safely build a fire.
The only way to keep Joe warm would be to
share his body heat with his wounded brother.
Adam located several thick piles of pine needles then placed them on the
ground beside Joe. He paused to check Joe’s bullet wound for more bleeding then
gently rolled Joe onto his left side.
While he had Little Joe on his side, he spread the pines needles on the
ground behind his brother’s back. He
then lay down and snuggled in close behind Joe’s restless shivering body. Adam pulled the blankets around both of them
then wrapped his arms around Joe’s broad shoulders and prepared for a long,
cold, sleepless night. Exhaustion
quickly overtook both brothers, allowing them a few hours of rest before Joe’s
delirious dreams and tortured cries for help roused Adam from a light doze.
“Ohhh....it
hurts....it hurts! Adam....help
me....I’m shot...Adam? Please
....somebody help me!” Joe’s frantic and
violent thrashing was like holding onto a bucking bronc. Adam had
to find some way to keep Joe as motionless as possible,
distract his mind from the constant pain that maintained a steady assault on
his battered and exhausted body or risk Joe causing further damage to an already
critical bullet wound.
Adam slipped out from under the blankets
into the chilly night air to give Joe another drink and recheck his
shoulder.
“Damn it, Joe! You’ve reopened your wound!” scolded Adam.
Adam pulled the bloody rag that was once
his shirt out from under Joe’s shirt and jacket, tossed it aside then replaced
it with the other clean half of his torn shirt, again applying constant
pressure to help stanch the flow of blood.
Since neither of them would be getting much sleep, Adam decided to tell
Joe stories about the trials and tribulations he experienced as a boy while
traveling west with Pa. Adam shared his
memories of Hoss’s mother Inger
and later what life was like growing up with Pa and Hoss. Joe listened intently to Adam’s fond memories of Joe’s mother,
Marie, and later the birth of the last and the most spirited Cartwright, Little
Joe. Adam’s soothing voice and the
pleasant memories brought a gleam of life back into Joe’s glazed eyes. Fond
remembrances flooded Adam’s mind as he continued reminiscing about the many
mischievous exploits of the youngest Cartwright. It seemed to be working for Joe’s breathing
slowly settled into a more normal rhythm and his body began to relax. Adam chuckled as he remembered the many times
he and Hoss had saved their little brother’s hide by covering for him with Pa
so he wouldn’t get a licking. Adam
smiled to himself as he remembered that Pa always seemed to know it was Little
Joe who had committed the wrong-doing, not his brothers. They never really
could fool
“Remember your first hunting trip,
Joe? I believe you were a few weeks
short of your seventh birthday,” inquired Adam.
“Yes,” Joe answered in a weak and tired
voice. He just so desperately wanted to
sleep but the pain would not allow it.
“You were so excited,” continued
Adam. “I seem to remember you were the
first one awake that autumn morning. You
came bounding into my room like a little jack rabbit and jumped up on my bed
then gave me one of your famous little boy bear hugs.”
Adam thought he heard Joe chuckle
softly. Satisfied the bleeding had
stopped again, he eased his exhausted body back under the blankets and onto the
cold ground. He then curled up close to
Little Joe to keep him warm as he continued with the account of Joe’s first
hunting trip. “Remember how we stopped
for a picnic lunch in that meadow?”
“How could I forget that?” said Joe in a
sleepy voice. “I remember I tried to
dismount myself....wouldn’t let Pa help me.
I told him I’m a big cowboy now.
I fell.....and Pinecone, my pony...stepped on my hand. He hurt my hand pretty bad.”
It was becoming harder for Joe to stay
awake. His mind and thoughts were
drifting.
Adam gently pulled Little Joe closer to
his chest and whispered affectionately, “Just go to sleep, short shanks.”
Joe slept fitfully for the next four
hours. Adam managed to get a few hours
of rest between Joe’s shivers and spasms from the intense pain.
CHAPTER 3
Hoss made it back to the Ponderosa just
as the sun was beginning to climb above the distant mountains. He had pushed his horse, Chub, hard the last
couple of miles before dawn. Chub seemed
to understand the urgency in his master’s voice. He had maintained the swift break-neck pace
Hoss had demanded of him without a complaint.
The sturdy black gelding was winded and covered with a fine layer of
sweat by the time he and Hoss arrived at the Ponderosa ranch house.
Ben Cartwright looked up from the cattle
contracts he had been reading while eating his breakfast alone at the large
mahogany dining table when he heard the sound of approaching hooves. Curious at to who would be arriving this
early in the morning, Ben took one last sip of his coffee then stood and walked
out into the yard. A look of concern
formed on his weathered face as he saw his son Hoss leap off his horse and come
rushing up to him. He instantly knew
something was wrong by the distressed expression on Hoss’s
face and the fact that Hoss’s horse was lathered and
breathing hard.
All three of his sons had left two days
ago to track down and kill the mountain lion that had been preying on the local
rancher’s livestock and now Hoss was returning alone. An uneasy feeling swept over Ben. Something was wrong.
“What’s the matter, Hoss?” asked Ben, a
hint of worry in his voice. “I wasn’t
expecting you boys back until tomorrow evening.
Where’s Adam and Little Joe?”
“Adam and Joe are still up on Seven Mile
Ridge......near Horse Thief Point,” said Hoss breathing heavily. “Joe’s been hurt terrible!”
Ben grabbed Hoss by the arms and shouted,
“What’s wrong....what happened to him?”
“Joe was shot......,” began Hoss but he
never got to finish the sentence.
Ben’s heart skipped a beat at the sound
of those words. “Joe’s been shot? Who shot him? Is he alive?”
“Just hold on Pa,” continued Hoss as he
put his arm around his father’s shoulders and guided him into the ranch
house. “He’s alive but he’s hurt real
bad. He took a bullet in the
shoulder. The force of the bullet
knocked him over the edge of the trail and he fell down a steep incline. The
fall busted him up pretty bad.”
Ben’s face turned white with shock. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His
youngest son had been shot and lay possibly dying even as they spoke.
“I left Adam with Little Joe,
Hop Sing, the family’s Chinese cook,
heard the sound of Hoss’s voice from the kitchen and
came out into the living room to investigate.
“What the matta,
Mista Hoss?
Where Mista Adam and Littow
Joe?” demanded Hop Sing in his broken English.
“Joe’s been shot, Hop Sing,” answered
Hoss.
“Who want to shoot Littow
Joe?”
“We don’t know that yet. Reckon it could’ve been an accident. Someone out hunting the same mountain lion we
were hunting might’ve mistaken Joe for the cat.”
“Littow Joe no
look like mountain lion!” stated Hop Sing.
For just a moment the severity of the
situation was lightened by Hop Sing’s comical
observation.
“How far to Joe and Adam?” asked
“About a half day’s ride if we don’t push
the horses too hard. The last couple of miles are too rough for the
horses. We’ll have to go in on
foot. If we leave right away we can make
it before nightfall. We’re gonna need a stretcher, several ropes and a
block-and-tackle and something like a wood plank to strap Joe to while we haul
him up,” replied Hoss.
“You need food, Mista
Hoss! You ride all night. Eat nothing!
I make you sandwiches to take with you.
You bring Littow Joe home safely, you hear?”
mumbled Hop Sing as he scurried back to the kitchen to prepare some food for
the long trip.
A brief smile formed on Ben and Hoss’s face as Hop Sing disappeared around the corner into
the kitchen. Hop Sing was like a member
of the family. He had been with the Cartwrights since before Little Joe was born. He and Joe had a special attachment. Joe had spent much of his youth with Hop
Sing learning Chinese. Little Joe was
the only one who could understand Hop Sing when he was frustrated and startled
rattling off in Chinese.
Ben went out to the barn to hitch up a
team to the wagon and gather the necessary supplies while Hoss changed his
clothes and grabbed a quick bite to eat.
Ben desperately prayed that they would not be too late!
When Hoss stepped outside, he saw he
father already mounted on his horse. He
had assembled three of the ranch hands who were also mounted and ready to
ride. Before Hoss climbed up into the
seat of the wagon, he checked the barn to make sure his horse had been rubbed
down and fed. As he walked back to the
wagon, Hop Sing came rushing out the back door of the kitchen and thrust a
large package wrapped in brown paper into Hoss’s
massive hands.
“You forget food, Mista
Hoss! You save some for Mista Adam and Littow Joe,”
scolded Hop Sing.
Hoss smiled at Hop Sing as he climbed up
into the seat of the wagon then turned and dropped the package behind him into
the bed of the wagon.
The ranch hands had filled the wagon with
hay, a mattress, and blankets to make Joe’s ride back as comfortable as
possible. Hoss sighed and shook his
head. No amount of soft padding would prevent his little brother from suffering
the excruciating pain from the bumpy ride home in the wagon.
“Hold on a little longer, Joe. We’re on
our way,” whispered
Hoss, giving a quick flick to the reins to urge the two horses forward. Ben and the ranch hands solemnly followed
behind. It was going to be a very long
day!
CHAPTER 4
Adam dreamed he was sailing on a clipper
ship in the
Adam opened his eyes as he struggled to
push the unknown weight off his chest.
He cursed under his breath when he realized the wave that had knocked
him over in his dream was Little Joe rolling backwards on top of him. He carefully pushed Joe up a little to give
himself enough room to wiggle out from under his little brother. Mindful not to disturb Joe’s wounded
shoulder, he shoved a blanket under his brother so he wouldn’t be lying on the
cold ground then eased him down so he was lying on his back.
It had been a bitter cold night. Both brothers had small icicles clinging to
their exposed hair and Adam’s cheeks felt numb. Adam wasn’t sure if the fact that Joe had
remained unconscious through the rest of the night was a good thing or a bad
thing.
Adam stood and stretched his aching
muscles then turned in time to see the rising sun clear the tops of the distant
snowy peaks. He rubbed the sleep from
his eyes then knelt beside Little Joe to check on how he had fared during the
night.
“Joe, Joe....wake
up! Can you hear me?” urged Adam as he
gently tried to coax his little brother to open his eyes. Joe just lay there, unresponsive. A feeling of dread rapidly swept over Adam. He knew if they didn’t get Joe medical attention
soon, he wasn’t going to survive. If the
bullet wound didn’t kill him then shock and exposure would claim him.
Joe’s breathing was labored, underscored
by soft whimpers and moans and his face was bathed in a fine layer of moisture
brought on by a rapidly developing infection in the bullet wound. Adam pulled off his gloves and placed one
chilly hand on Joe’s forehead. He felt
so hot. “Damn! Fever’s set in,” cursed
Adam.
Adam raised Joe’s head to pour some water
into his mouth. Joe managed to swallow a
little bit but then started to cough and sputter. Adam gently lowered his brother’s head then
peeked inside Joe’s shirt to check for any new bleeding. Afterwards, he pulled the blankets up to
Joe’s chin and tucked the edges around Joe’s body the same way he had tucked
his baby brother into bed when he was a small boy. He then sat back on his haunches, removed his
hat and ran his fingers through his dark brown hair.
“Oh, Joe......,” said Adam to his little
brother’s inert form. “I wish there was
something more I could do for you! Just
hang on a little longer! We’ll have you
out of here and home before you know it.
I promise!”
With Joe unconscious, there was little
for Adam to do. His growling stomach
reminded him he hadn’t eaten anything since the previous morning so he picked
up the leather bag Hoss had given him the night before and started rummaging
through it for something to eat. All he
found was some cold beef jerky and stale biscuits.
A wry smile crept over Adam’s face as he
remembered just yesterday teasing Hoss about his lousy cooking. He ripped off a piece of the cold jerky with
his teeth and thought, “What I wouldn’t give for some of Hoss’s
awful cooking right now. At least it
would be hot.”
Adam chewed the tough dry meat then said
to his unconscious brother, “You’re lucky you don’t have to eat this! Remind me not to tease Hoss anymore about his
cooking.”
With nothing else to do but care for Joe
and wait for Hoss to return with help, Adam began to consider the possible
reasons for why someone would want to shoot Joe.
Little Joe had no enemies and Adam didn’t
believe that this was a hunting accident.
Whoever had shot Little Joe had done it deliberately. The only plausible solution that he could
find was that Joe had seen or heard something that he shouldn’t have.
He would just have to wait for Little Joe
to tell him but he doubted that would be anytime soon because Joe was becoming
more delirious and was out of his mind with the fever.
Joe spent the next several hours drifting
in and out of consciousness. The fever was rising causing Little Joe to become
more restless and his cries more frequent.
Adam found a small towel in the bag Hoss left him, poured some cold
water from a canteen onto the cloth then draped it over Joe’s hot forehead.
This was all he could do at the moment to try to help bring the fever
down.
By early afternoon, Joe finally settled
down and appeared to be resting a little easier.
Adam took this opportunity to climb back
up to the top of the bluff to briefly explore the surrounding vicinity where he
guessed Little Joe had been shot, looking for any clues that might provide an
answer to the puzzle. He was careful not
wander too far from his wounded brother.
Standing on the trail above Little Joe, all he could see were miles of
thick timber, rocks,
and multiple scars on the land from old avalanches. He turned his face toward the chilly autumn
sun, closed his tired eyes and listened for any sound that might announce the
arrival of their rescuers. The only
sound Adam heard was the sound of the wind caressing the trees and the
occasional chirp of a bird. He let out a
deep sigh then carefully made his way back to the spot where Hoss had tied the
guide rope and began his slow descent back to the base of the bluff and Little
Joe. Adam was just a few yards short of
the bottom when he heard Joe crying out again.
“Ohhhh Adam....I’m shot......oh, God, my
shoulder....it burns......please, oh please help me!” Adam rushed to Joe’s side, nearly sliding
into him in the loose dirt. Without
thinking, he grabbed Little Joe’s upper arms and pulled his brother’s trembling
body into his own chest. Adam held his
little brother tightly and rocked him like a child while Joe continued to weep
on his shoulder. Adam could feel the
fiery heat from Joe’s feverish body pulsing through the blankets next to his
chest. He couldn’t bear to see Joe
suffering for much longer.
“Damn it, where are you, Hoss?” cursed
Adam.
For the last two hours before rescue
arrived, Little Joe continued a cycle of unconsciousness then a state of
semi-conscious delirium where he would be plagued by intense pain from his
injuries, whimpering and moaning through labored breaths. With each episode of
writhing and thrashing, Joe would open the wound in his shoulder thus causing
more bleeding.
Adam stayed close to Joe for the rest of
the afternoon, periodically checking the wound and giving his brother water to
keep him from becoming dehydrated.
Adam could see that Joe’s fever was
rising and the blankets were not keeping him warm so once again he lay down
beside his shivering brother, holding him close in a desperate attempt to keep
him warm.
Adam was dozing with his face pressed
into the back of Joe’s jacket when he heard what sounded like his father’s
voice calling to him. He opened his eyes
and looked over his shoulder up the steep slope toward the top of the
trail. From the position of the October
sun, Adam guessed it was now mid-afternoon.
Unsure whether or not he had been dreaming, he stood up and called, “Pa!
Hoss!”
He listened intently for a reply. No answer, just the honking of a flock of
geese flying overhead.
“No!” contended Adam. “
I couldn’t have been dreaming!”
Adam pulled his gun from his holster and
fired three shots into the air then listened for any sound or voice. He was
instantly rewarded for his efforts by the echo of three shots fired in rapid
succession. The ordeal was nearly over. Excited, Adam rushed back to Joe, tucked his
little brother’s broken arm back under the blankets from where it had fallen
out then said, “Help is finally here, Joe.
You made it! Just hold on a
little bit longer. We’ll have you out of here in no time.”
“Adam?
Joseph? Where are you?” came Ben’s frantic voice.
Adam cupped his hands around his mouth
and called out, “We’re down here, Pa!”
Suddenly he heard a bustle of activity
and voices at the top of the bluff. Ben
felt a huge lump in his throat when he looked down the slope and saw his
youngest son lying helpless on the ground amidst the rocks and trees. He looked so small and vulnerable. Ben was about to start down the treacherous
slope when Hoss stopped him and showed him the guide rope he had rigged for
Adam. Ben grabbed the rope and quickly
repelled down. He was so overwhelmed
with relief to see both of his sons alive that he grabbed Adam, gave him a big
hug then dropped to his knee to check on the baby of the family. Ben pulled the blankets back from Joe’s chest
and shoulder and asked, “How is he?”
Ben grimaced when he saw the shoulder
area of Joe’s green corduroy jacket soaked in blood. “He’s not doing very well,
Ben gingerly lifted Joe’s bloody jacket
and shirt to further inspect the wound.
The flesh around the bullet hole was torn and mangled. Massive bruising had developed forming a
purple, blue and black ring around the hole where blood was still leaking from
the wound. Without looking up Ben said,
“He’s still bleeding, Adam”.
“I know, I
couldn’t get him to lie still for very long.
He’s unconscious now but he keeps coming around and when he’s
semi-conscious the pain is so bad that he can’t keep still. Every time he starts squirming around he
reopens the wound again.”
“
“Yes, son. I’m here
now. Everything’s going to be all
right.” Ben tried to sound confident.
Joe opened his eyes a little and slipped
his left hand out from under the blanket to touch his father’s face. Ben grabbed Joe’s gloved hand and pressed it
tightly between his hands.
“It’s alright now, son. We’re here to take care of you and bring you
home,” assured Ben in a soothing voice.
He smoothed Joe’s hair back from his face and added, “You rest easy now,
son.”
Ben turned to speak to Adam when Joe
grabbed his hand again and asked, “Where’s Cochise?”
“Oh no, I forgot all about the
horses. I left Sport and Cochise tethered to a tree back at our camp site. Its about a mile
east of here,” replied Adam.
Ben smiled at Joe and shook his
head. “Always worried
about that darned horse of yours.
I’m sure he and Sport are just fine....a bit hungry maybe. I’ll send one of the hands back to your camp
to get the horses. Now you quit worrying
and just rest.”
From the way Joe was beginning to wiggle
and squirm, Ben could tell his youngest boy was suffering from the pain again.
They had to get him out of here and to a doctor soon.
Ben stood then turned to Adam. “I’ll stay down here with Little Joe. You go up top and help Hoss rig the
block-and-tackle so we can pull Joe up out of here.”
Adam nodded silently then grabbed the
guide-rope and scrambled up the side of the bluff.
At the top, Adam looked around until he
spotted Hoss securing ropes through some holes in the wooden plank they were
going to use as a sled to pull Little Joe up the steep incline.
“Boy, you’re a sight for sore eyes,”
teased Adam. “What took you so long?”
Hoss looked up from his task, smiled at
Adam’s disheveled appearance and said, “You ain’t so purdy yourself, big brother. I got here as soon as I could. Now grab hold of that end of the plank and
let’s get it ready to lower down to
Adam helped Hoss anchor the ropes then
thread them through the block-and-tackle before they secured the rope to the
wooden plank. Hoss tied off the last
knots then carried the sled to the edge of the precipice.
“Adam,” said Hoss, “I’m gonna need you go down with the sled to keep it from
getting hung up on anything while me, Hank, and Josh lower it down.”
Before beginning his descent, Adam turned
and looked down over his shoulder at his father and little brother. “Pa, look out. I’m coming back down.”
Adam and the sled made it down
safely. The spot where Joe had landed
was quite narrow and there was barely enough room for Ben and Adam to stand
safely behind the boulder that had stopped Joe from falling over the cliff on
the other side.
Little Joe moaned as Ben and Adam rolled
him onto his left side and pushed the wood plank under him.
“I know it hurts, Joe. Just try to relax while we secure you to this
sled,” said Ben.
Every moan and every whimper from his
youngest son was breaking Ben’s heart.
Mindful not to cause Joe further
distress, Ben and Adam positioned Joe onto the center of the plank then lifted
his broken right arm and gently rested it on his chest. They covered him with the blankets again,
tucking them tightly around Joe’s trembling body. They then secured Joe to the
sled with the ropes and leather straps the ranch hands had packed into the
wagon. Adam picked up the canteen and
bundle of supplies that Hoss had left with him and swung them over his
shoulder. As he turned to call up to
Hoss and the ranch hands that they were ready, he noticed Joe’s revolver lying
in the dirt. He paused briefly, cocked his head slightly to the left, and just
stared at the footprints that lay to the north of where Joe’s head had been
resting in the dirt. The prints appeared
to have come down the side of the bluff towards Joe at an angle about twenty
yards north of where Joe had fallen down the side of the bluff then they
appeared to go back the same way they came.
Too tired to give it much thought, Adam dismissed it from his mind as he
picked up Joe’s firearm and tucked it into the back of his pants.
“OK, Hoss.....we’re ready down here. Pull him up!” yelled Adam.
Hoss turned to the two men behind him and
said, “OK, boys....pull him up nice and easy.”
Ben stayed at the bottom and held onto
the rope at the foot of the sled to steady it as Adam scrambled up alongside
Joe, ready to free him if the sled got caught up on anything. Each time he hit a rock or tree stump, Joe
would gasp and cry out from the pain. As
soon as they reached the top, three pairs of hands grabbed the wooden plank
beneath Little Joe and pulled him away from the edge. With Joe safely up top, Ben took hold of the guide-rope that
Adam had used to climb up and began his ascent.
On his way up,
Ben noticed the rifle Joe had dropped when he fell over the
edge. He quickly retrieved it then
finished his climb up the side of the bluff.
Once Ben reached the top of the incline he started issuing orders to his
two sons and the ranch hands to quickly pack up the gear and get ready to take
Little Joe down the mountain to the waiting wagon.
“Hoss,” called Ben. “Send one of the men back to your camp to get
Adam and Joe’s horses.”
Hoss answered, “I already took care of
that,
Ben looked at his oldest son who was
sitting on a tree stump leaning over with his face in his hands and said,
“Adam....grab the stretcher over there to your right and help me move Joe onto
it. It will be easier to carry your
brother down on the stretcher than trying to carry him on this board.”
Adam didn’t hear his father speaking to
him; his mind was somewhere else. Ever
since he had reached down to retrieve Joe’s revolver he had a nagging feeling
that something wasn’t right, like he had overlooked something very
important. Adam was jolted out of his reverie
by the thundering sound of his father calling his name. “Adam!
Please help me move your brother onto this stretcher.”
Adam stood and shook the cobwebs from his
exhausted mind. “Coming,
Ben and Adam moved Little Joe onto the
stretcher just as Hoss came over to see how Joe was doing. Little Joe was extremely feverish. The pain was still making it difficult for him
to lie still. Without removing Joe’s jacket, Ben and Adam tightly bound up the
bloody gunshot wound in Joe’s right shoulder then angled his broken right arm
at the elbow, placed it gently against his chest again then secured it to his
chest with the remaining bandages. Joe was
still moaning and whimpering when they gently eased him back down onto the
stretcher and covered him with the blankets.
“How’s he doing, Pa?” asked Hoss.
“Not very well, son. He seems to be delirious from the fever and
suffering a great deal of pain.”
Hoss glanced up at the sky with a
troubled expression and said, “Reckon we better hurry if we want to get off
this mountain before it gets dark. Only
a few hours of daylight left.”
Hoss carried the front end of the
stretcher while Ben and Adam took turns carrying the foot of the stretcher the
two miles it took them to convey Joe down the mountain to the waiting
wagon. The two ranch hands, Josh and
Hank followed behind with the gear.
The third ranch hand, Pete Randolph, was
waiting in the seat of the wagon with Sport and Cochise
tethered to the back when the Cartwrights and the two
ranch hands arrived with Little Joe.
The trek down the mountain had been pure torture for Joe. By the time they reached the wagon, Little
Joe was biting his lower lip and sobbing into the side of the stretcher.
Ben jumped into the back of the wagon and
took hold of the front handles of the stretcher as Hoss passed them up to
him. As Ben lowered the stretcher onto
the mattress in the back of the wagon, he glanced down at the tormented face of
his youngest son. Ben didn’t hear Hoss
barking orders to the men to quickly mount up and get moving; he just sat on
the back of his heels and gently smoothed his hand over Little Joe’s hair.
“Easy there now, son,” said Ben in a
comforting voice. “I know it hurts but
just be brave a little longer, we’re on our way home now. We should be back to the Ponderosa by
daylight.”
Ben stood to jump out of the wagon when
Adam approached and handed him three blankets to cover Joe. With a sharp snap, Ben unfurled the blankets
one at a time then let them float down like a leaf to settle on Joe’s quivering
body. He then jumped out of the wagon
and walked over to where Adam was already mounted on his horse and holding the reins to
Buck. Adam noticed the grave expression
on his father’s face as he handed him the reins to his horse. They were all so very worried about Little
Joe, wondering how he would survive another cold night as well the long ride
home.
Ben mounted his horse then glanced at the
wagon one more time. Clamping his hand
on Adam’s shoulder, Ben said in a voice choked with emotion, “Thank you for keeping Joe alive and
taking such good care of him, Adam.”
Adam gave his father a lop-sided grin
then urged Sport forward to take the lead on the ride home. Not another word was spoken as the wagon and
five riders turned their horse’s heads to the west and followed the setting sun
home to the Ponderosa.
CHAPTER 5
For the next two hours, Little Joe
continued to fade in and out of consciousness, often crying out sharply when
the wagon bounced over a deep rut in the trail.
Hoss tried his best to avoid such obstacles but in the gathering gloom
of evening it was becoming more difficult to see the road ahead. When the sun faded from view, Ben finally called
a halt. Josh and Pete quickly gathered
some firewood and started a fire so they could warm up Little Joe. Adam and Hank carried the stretcher from the
wagon and placed it near the fire. Joe
seemed to settle down as soon as he felt the comforting heat from the flames.
Hoss pulled out the package of sandwiches
that Hop Sing had prepared and offered them to the group. No one felt much like eating so Hoss put the
package back in the wagon and went to help Hank tend to the horses.
Ben knelt by Joe to check the wound in
his son’s shoulder. The pressure from the bandage was doing a good job of
keeping the wound from reopening.
Finished with his inspection, Ben reached down and pulled the blankets
up to Joe’s chin then gently rested his hand on Joe’s curly hair. Without realizing what he was doing, Ben
started humming a song he hadn’t sung since Joe was a little baby. It was a French lullaby that Joe’s mother,
Marie, used to sing when she put her baby to bed. Little Joe let out a deep sigh and whispered
“Momma” as the familiar song penetrated the heavy fog in his mind.
Overwhelmed by emotion, Ben whispered,
“Oh, Joseph.....who did this to you, son? Who would want to harm you?”
Ben didn’t hear Hoss approach him until
he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.
“Try to get some sleep, Pa......I’ll sit here and look after Little
Joe. You look exhausted.”
“Thanks Hoss,” answered Ben with a yawn,
“I’m not tired and I want to stay close to Little Joe.....in case he wakes up.”
“Pa.... Joe is so out of his head with
the fever, I don’t reckon he’d know who was sitting with him. Go and try to get some rest. I’ll let you know if he wakes up.”
Ben was too tired to argue so he picked
up his blanket and moved to the other side of the fire where he could hear and
keep an eye on his hurt son.
A short time later, Ben was startled from
a light sleep by the sound of Joe’s pleading voice, “Don’t leave me,
mister.....help me please! Find my
brothers....no, no.....don’t leave me!”
“What’s he talking about, Pa?” asked
Hoss.
“I don’t know, son. He’s delirious from the fever.”
Ben and Hoss stared at one another in consternation, neither understood what Little Joe was
talking about.
Adam, who had been standing near the
wagon talking to Pete when Joe called out for help, suddenly stopped
mid-sentence as a piece of the “who shot Joe puzzle” started to fall into
place. “Are you OK, Adam? What’s the
matter?” asked Pete. “ You look like you just seen a
ghost.” Joe’s cries for help to an
unknown stranger suddenly brought forth a forgotten image of footprints in the
soft dirt near where Joe lay pinned against the boulder. An uneasy feeling crept over Adam as he
recalled that the mysterious footprints appeared to have come down at an angle
then back upward again to the top of the bluff.
It looked like someone had come down to Little Joe then hurriedly
left. Adam knew those couldn’t have
possibly been his footprints because during the time he waited for rescue with
Joe he did not investigate the area in that direction.
Adam didn’t dare form a conclusion
without further evidence and he didn’t want to trouble his pa with this
discovery yet so he just kept it to himself for the time being. Getting Joe home safely was their top priority.
Since they were all awake now, Ben
decided it was time to get moving again.
Little Joe started to shiver and whimper again when he was moved away
from the warmth of the fire and placed back into the cold wagon. Ben was really getting concerned about the steadily
dropping temperature and how it was affecting his son. Little Joe was in urgent need of medical
attention and they were still a good eight hours away from the Ponderosa.
Ben called a halt every two hours to
allow Joe to rest briefly by a fire. He
was hesitant to call for these stops because it delayed getting Joe to a
doctor. Each time Little Joe was placed
by the fire, his moans and cries would diminish then his distress would return
when he was again assaulted by the freezing night air. When they were four hours away from home, Ben decided to climb
into the wagon and share his body heat with Joe. He lay down beside his son and pulled him
close. He was shocked by how hot his son’s body felt.
“Pa?...Pa?”
moaned Little Joe.
“Yes, son I’m here.”
“So cold.....I’m so cold!”
“I know.....just stay close to me and
I’ll keep you warm.”
“It hurts so much....make the pain stop,
Pa! Please make it stop!”
“Shhhhhhh.....be
still now, boy. Try not to move too
much. We’re almost home.”
Adam rode the last few miles home
alongside the wagon, keeping a constant vigil over his injured baby
brother. Joe looked so small and
helpless lying there in the shadows, nestled in Ben’s protective embrace.
“Ohhhh.....uhhhhhhh!” cried Little Joe when the wagon bounced over a
large furrow in the road.
“I’m sorry, Joe! I’m so sorry....I didn’t
see that bump,” apologized Hoss for the thousandth time. He was doing everything he could to make the
ride home as painless as possible but it was an impossible task. Hoss felt terrible each time he hit a rough
spot and inflicted more pain on Little Joe.
Adam clenched his jaw, his eyes turning
black with hatred for the unknown man who was the cause of his little brother’s
suffering and pain. Right then and
there, Adam swore he would find the man responsible and make him pay!
The little group of cold, weary men rode
the last twenty miles to the Ponderosa in silence, each man hunched down in the
saddle, alone with his thoughts. When
they were an hour from the ranch, Ben sent Josh Miller on ahead into
Joe’s head hung back limply over Hoss’s massive arm as his brother carried him up the stairs
to bed. Ben quickly entered Joe’s
bedroom behind Hoss and pulled the bed linens and blankets back before Hoss
gently lowered Joe onto the clean sheets and pillows. A small pitiful whimper escaped Joe’s parched
lips as he grasped the side of his pillow and tried to roll onto his left side.
“Help me get him undressed and into bed,”
said Ben as he slipped off Joe’s right boot and dropped it on the floor.
Hoss had unbuckled Joe’s gunbelt and was draping it over a chair when Adam came in
with fresh bandages, towels, and a basin of water.
“Need any help here?” asked Adam as he
shrugged out of his coat.
“Go down to the kitchen and ask Hop Sing to
get a bed warmer ready for Joe,” said Ben.
Ben reached down to Joe’s waist,
unbuckled his pants then started to slide them down. He was glad his youngest son had chosen to
wear a pair of long john underwear this time; Joe usually wore nothing under
his pants. The underwear had helped to keep Little Joe warm the two cold nights
he spent exposed to the elements but now it was going to have to come off. Ben added the waistline of the long johns to
the waistline of Joe’s pants and together started to slide them down and under
his buttocks, exposing Joe’s pelvic area and his muscular thighs. In his haste to get Joe undressed, Ben
accidentally bumped Joe’s broken leg.
Joe let out a weak howl as he arched his back and dug the fingers of his
left hand into the bed sheets.
Ben quickly apologized. “I’m so sorry,
son....I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Ben turned to his second son and said,
“Hoss, take the splint off Joe’s leg and remove his boot so I can finish
stripping off his pants and underwear. I
think the easiest way to do this is to cut the rest of it off him.”
Hoss removed the makeshift splint, eased
the boot off Joe’s foot then cut away the remaining fabric of Joe’s pants and
underwear, leaving him totally exposed from the waist down. Hoss blushed at his baby brother’s nakedness
and turned his face away while he peeled off Joe’s white cotton socks.
Ben walked to the foot of the bed and
rubbed the sides of his face with both hands.
He stood staring at the motionless form of his half-naked son as he
contemplated how they were going to get Joe’s jacket and shirt off without
inflicting too much pain. Ben turned to
speak to Hoss when Adam came into the room carrying the bed warmer and the
leg-splint Doc Martin had used on Joe a couple of years ago when Hoss, beset
with his infamous spring fever, had accidentally broken Joe’s leg.
“I thought we could use this again,” said
Adam in a weary voice.
Ben glanced over at Adam and replied,
“Good idea, son.”
Adam looked at Little Joe’s half-exposed
body and smiled to himself. He couldn’t help but notice the obvious; his little
brother was certainly well-endowed. The
last time he had seen his baby brother totally naked was when Joe was about
seven years old, back when he used to take Joe and Hoss swimming in one of the
various “swimmin’ holes” on the Ponderosa. He
definitely had become a man in more ways than one.
Ben took a deep breath and let it out
quickly. “Now for the hard part. Its
going to take all three of us to get Little Joe’s jacket and shirt off.”
After Hoss had raised his little brother
up into a sitting position, Ben pulled the glove off of Joe’s left hand. Little Joe’s head rolled forward onto his
chest and he let out another moan. As
gently as possible, Ben removed the bandages they had used to strap Joe’s right
arm to his chest. As soon as the arm
came free, Adam
held it as gently as a baby bird while Ben finished cutting away the other
bandages. Ben grimaced and swallowed
hard when he removed the wad of bloody bandages from the front of Joe’s green
jacket and tossed it on the floor.
“Adam,” called Ben. “ I
need you to remove the arm splint for a moment so we can get Joe’s jacket and
shirt off.”
Still holding Joe’s broken arm, Adam
grabbed a pillow to help support his brother’s arm on his lap while he removed
Joe’s other glove and the splint. Free
from the support of the splint, Little Joe’s arm began to throb furiously in
time with his pulse, causing him to moan and squirm in Hoss’s
arms.
As quickly and gently as possible, Hoss
and Ben slipped off Joe’s jacket and threw it on the floor alongside the pile
of bloody bandages. Ben slid off Joe’s
shirt until only his right arm and shoulder remained encased in the fabric.
“Just hold still a little longer, Joe,”
said Hoss as he eased Joe back down onto the pillows. “We’re doin’ the best we can. We’ll have you all settled and
tucked into bed here in just a moment.”
Adam settled Joe’s arm on the pillow by his
side then reached down and pulled the blankets up to Joe’s waist. Ben started to slide the torn bloody shirt
down past Joe’s wounded shoulder then let go when Joe tensed and bit his lower
lip. When Joe relaxed, he took hold of the
shirt again and attempted to pull it away from the wound. Small bits of fabric and dirt had become
imbedded in the entry wound and were now mixed in with Joe’s clotted
blood. Ben scowled and pulled a face
when the shirt finally released it’s hold on the
bullet wound.
To avoid disturbing Joe’s broken arm, Ben
used his jack knife to cut away the cuff and sleeve from his son’s arm. He wadded up the bloody rag that was once
Little Joe’s shirt and tossed it on the floor alongside the bloody jacket.
Adam immobilized Joe’s arm again with the
splint then returned his brother’s arm to its place on the pillow. A small amount of blood had leaked from the
angry bruised hole in Joe’s shoulder. It
made a thin red stripe as it trickled down Joe’s pectoral muscle and
disappeared into his armpit.
Ben took the basin of water and the towel
Adam had brought and proceeded to gingerly wash the dirt and blood off the
wound. Adam took another cloth, dipped
it into the cool water, wrung it out then applied it to Joe’s fevered
brow. Ben was trying to be careful but
the pressure from washing the red and swollen wound was causing Joe to moan and
writhe.
“Please try to hold still, Joseph,”
pleaded Ben. “We need to get this bullet
wound cleaned out!”
Joe turned his face to the side and bit
down hard on the corner of his pillow. Hoss reached out and took hold of his
brother’s hand and held it tightly.
“That’s the best I can do,” said Ben,
placing the bloody towel in the basin.
“Adam, get some more warm water and let’s get Joe cleaned up before the
doctor gets here.”
Adam went back down to the kitchen and returned
with a basin of warm water as well as additional clean towels. Ben wiped the dirt and sweat
from Little Joe’s face, neck and under his chin. He then rinsed the dirt from the towel then
tenderly stroked Joe’s wavy brown locks with the damp cloth to remove the dirt
and sweat. The simple motions of bathing
his son brought back a flood of memories of when he had bathed Little Joe as an
infant. Lying before him wounded and sick,
Little Joe was as helpless and vulnerable as an infant, dependent on his family
to care for him and protect him.
Ben and Hoss quickly washed the sweat and
dirt off of Joe’s trembling body. Little
Joe only cried out once when the pressure on is broken leg was more than he
could stand.
Now that Joe’s bath was finished, Ben stepped
back while Adam carefully wrapped Joe’s leg in soft padding, strapped on the
new splint then pulled the bed covers up to Joe’s chin. Lastly, he picked up the bed warmer and
slipped it beneath the blankets, close to Joe’s shivering body.
“Anything else I can do to help, Pa?”
asked Hoss.
“Not much more we can do for Joe. Would you mind going downstairs and see if
Josh is back with Doc Martin?”
Hoss nodded then headed out the
door. He stopped in the doorway and
turned back to look at his father. Ben
just stood there, unmoving, staring at Little Joe’s face like he had to
memorize every detail and every feature for fear of losing his son forever.
Hoss had seen his pa worry many times
about the youngest Cartwright but he had never seen so much consternation and
distress in his father’s eyes as he saw now.
Hoss brushed past Adam who was standing
in the doorway. Ben sighed, looked up at
at his eldest son.
“Adam, you look exhausted. Go
clean up and try to get some sleep.
Standing here worrying about Joe is not going to help him. Doc Martin should be here any minute.”
Adam knew his pa was right but deep down
inside he felt an overwhelming need to stay close to his little brother.
Ben could see the hesitation on Adam’s
face so he walked over to his oldest son, placed a hand on his shoulder and
gently guided Adam out the door and down the hall to his own bedroom. Too tired to argue, Adam went willingly. He was just as dirty and sweaty as LittleJoe but he was right on the verge of collapsing and
he just didn’t care. Adam kicked off his
boots then flopped down heavily on the edge of his bed. He just sat there, silent and motionless,
while his overtired mind was furiously bombarded by images of the last two
days. One image in particular stood out
from all the others; the strange boot prints that lead down to and then away
from his wounded brother. Someone had
come down the side of the bluff to check on Little Joe and then deliberately
turned and left him there to die. Adam
was furious. What kind of a man could
deliberately leave another man to die? Unless.....Adam had not dared to explore another possibility. Unless it was the shooter
who had come down the side of the bluff to see if Joe was dead. He must of panicked
when he saw Joe was still alive. “That’s got to be it!” cried Adam. He tried to stand up to go and tell his pa
what he just discovered but he was overcome by a wave of dizziness so he lay
back on his bed to wait for it to pass.
He was asleep before his head ever touched the pillow.
After escorting Adam to his room, Ben had
stopped briefly in his own room to change his clothes and get some extra
blankets to put on Joe. On the way back
to Joe’s room, Ben stopped to look in on Adam.
He was relieved to see Adam asleep.
He picked up the quilt at the foot of the bed and gently covered his
oldest son.
Less than half an hour later, Ben awoke
from a light doze when he heard the sound of an approaching buggy. He stood up from the chair he had been
sitting in by Joe’s bedside, stretched and rubbed the back of his neck. Before leaving the room to see if the doctor
was here, Ben removed the dry warm cloth from Joe’s forehead and replaced it
with a cool wet one. He then peeled back
the blankets from Joe’s shoulder so he could look under the temporary bandage
they had placed on Joe’s bullet wound.
Even though Joe appeared to be asleep, his breathing was labored and he
was still squirming and shifting beneath the blankets.
Ben heard the front door open and close
just as he reached the top of the stairs.
He breathed
a heavy sigh of relief when he saw Doc Martin.
Dr. Paul Martin handed his coat and hat
to Hoss and said, “Josh told me Little Joe had been shot up on Seven Mile
Ridge. He said he suffered a bad fall.”
“That’s right, doc. The bullet knocked
him over the side of the trail and he fell a good thirty feet or more before a
boulder stopped him.”
Doc Martin shook his head and cringed at Hoss’s description of Joe’s accident then said, “Little Joe
is one lucky boy to have survived being shot, falling that far then the long
arduous ride back to the Ponderosa.”
“Yea, Doc....sometimes I think Little Joe
is just like a cat.....he has nine lives,” chuckled
Hoss.
“I better go see my patient now,” said
Doc Martin as he headed for the stairs.
“Paul!” shouted Ben. “I’m so glad you’re here now! Little Joe is in really bad shape.”
“Good to see you again, Hoss,” called Doc
Martin over his shoulder as he hurried up the stairs with Ben.
Doc Martin could hear Little Joe’s moans
and cries for help before he ever reached Joe’s bedroom. Ben entered the room first and was shocked to
see his very confused and delirious son attempting to push himself up with one
hand into a sitting position. “Help me,
mister....please! I’m hurt.....don’t
leave me!”
“Help me, Doc!” Ben shouted as he rushed
to stop his feverish boy from getting out of bed. Paul dropped his medical and rushed forward
to help. Ben caught Joe by the shoulders
just as he started to collapse forward onto the floor. Little Joe winced under the pressure of his
father’s hand squeezing his wounded shoulder and let out a pitiful yelp. Too weak to put up much of a fight, Joe fell
back heavily onto the mattress.
Ben had caught him just in time. If left alone for a few more seconds, Joe
would have fallen out of bed onto the floor.
Paul helped Ben settle Joe back into bed
then retrieved his bag. He set it on the
foot of Joe’s bed then took a good look at his patient. Doc Martin reached up and placed his hand on Little
Joe’s forehead. “He’s burning up!”
Joe’s face was flushed from the fever and
drenched with sweat. Paul got a glimpse
of Joe’s eyes when he opened they briefly fluttered
open in response to a new voice in the room. They were glassy and dull.
“When did the fever start?” asked Paul.
“Adam said Joe started running the fever
yesterday morning, the day after he was shot,” answered Ben. “He also told me Joe had been bleeding quite
heavily when they found him. He knew he
should have tried to clean out the wound back there on the mountain but he was
more concerned with stopping Joe from bleeding to death.”
Doc Martin pulled Joe’s blankets down to
his waist and removed the loosely tied wad of bandages from Joe’s shoulder so
he could examine the bullet wound. Paul
tried to be as gentle as possible but he still had to touch the wound while he
made his examination. Joe yelped and
tried to pull away each time the doctor touched his shoulder.
“This is a nasty looking wound, Ben. It
is definitely festering. From the looks
of it, the bullet appears to be lodged in quite deep. I’m not surprised he lost quite a bit of
blood. It’s a good thing Adam and Hoss found him when they did or he would have
eventually bled to death.”
His face a mask of worry, Ben asked, “Are
you going to remove the bullet now, Paul?”
“After I examine Joe’s broken arm and
leg,” said Paul as he lifted the blankets to get a look at Joe’s left leg.
“Josh told me that Adam was able to set Joe’s leg but was afraid to set his
arm. Said it was badly shattered.”
“That’s right,” confirmed Ben. “Is he going to be alright?”
“Joe’s broken arm and leg are the least
of my worries. I’m more concerned with
that bullet wound.”
Ben sat by Joe’s side and watched as Doc
Martin removed the splint from Joe’s leg to check if the bones had been
realigned correctly. Satisfied with
Adam’s doctoring, Paul rewrapped Joe’s leg in the padding and reapplied the
splint.
“Let’s get some pillows under this
leg. Elevating it will relieve some of
the pain and swelling,” said Doc Martin as he moved to Joe’s right side.
Ben was about to call for Hoss when he
glanced up and saw his middle son already standing in the doorway. “Hoss, would you get some more pillows so we
can elevate Joe’s leg?”
When Hoss returned with an armload of
pillows, Ben noted look of worry and concern in Hoss’s
eyes. He reached out and put his hand on
his son’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry.....Joe is young and strong. He’ll make it.”
A small tear formed at the corner of Hoss’s eye as he reached over and covered his pa’s hand
with his own.
Doc Martin removed Adam’s makeshift
splint from Joe’s bruised and swollen lower arm and tried to feel for the
break. Just the mere touch of the
doctor’s hands on his arm caused Joe to jump and cry out.
The sound of Joe yelling brought Adam
instantly awake. He threw off the quilt
and sprinted for Joe’s room.
“What’s the matter? Is Joe alright?” demanded Adam.
Doc Martin laughed when he saw a very
concerned and sleepy looking Adam with disheveled hair standing in the doorway.
“Joe is alright, Adam. I was just examining Joe’s arm and getting
ready to set it. He has multiple
fractures in his arm and hand so I am going to need all three of you to hold him
down while I set it.”
Ben looked at Paul and frowned then
turned to look at Joe. He wished there was something they could give Joe to
help with the excruciating pain he was about to experience when the doctor set
his arm.
“Ben, I want you on this side of the bed
and Adam you on the other side. I’m going
to need both of you to hold his upper body down. Be very careful to not touch the bullet
wound. And Hoss, I’ll need you to hold
down his hips and right leg.”
“What about his left leg, doc?” asked
Hoss.
“We won’t need to hold that one
down. The pain from the broken bone will
prevent him from moving it too much.”
Adam moved to the left side of Joe’s bed
then stopped and looked across at his father apprehensively. This was the moment Adam had been dreading
since realizing how badly Joe’s arm was broken.
Trying not to let Adam see the anxiety in his own eyes, Ben gave Adam a
reassuring smile and nod as they took their places.
Paul could see the concern and
trepidation on the faces of all three Cartwright men and his heart went out to
them. “Now hold him down tight.
Ready? Here we go!”
Joe bucked and groaned under the weight
of his pa and brothers when Doc Martin pulled and twisted his right arm and
hand. Ben bit his lower lip to prevent
himself from crying too as he watched his son thrash his head from side to
side.
“There, that should do it,” said Doc
Martin. “I’m really sorry, Ben. That was
pretty rough on him. Why don’t you and
the boys go downstairs and get something to eat. Joe needs some time to rest and I need to dose
him with laudanum before I remove the bullet.”
“You’ll call me if there is any change?”
said Ben in a somber voice.
“Yes, Ben.... I will,” replied Paul as he
ushered Ben, Hoss and Adam out the door.
All three Cartwright men trudged down the
stairs to the living room with long faces and heavy hearts.
Hop Sing heard the three Cartwright men
come down the stairs. He grabbed the
plate of sandwiches and coffee he had just made and placed them on the coffee
table in front of the fireplace.
“You eat now!” admonished Hop Sing. “No
do Littow Joe any good if you get sick!”
Ben pulled his hands out of his pockets,
rubbed his eyes then smiled at Hop Sing.
“Yes, Hop Sing.....we’ll eat our lunch now.”
“How is Littow
Joe? Hop Sing very worried. Hear poor Littow Joe crying loudly.”
Ben walked over to the family cook and
put his arm around Hop Sing’s shoulder.
“Doctor Martin was setting Joe’s broken
arm when you heard him cry out. Joe’s
arm is broken in several places. It was
a difficult and painful break to set.”
“Littow Joe feel better now?”
“No, I’m afraid Joe is a very sick
boy. He’s resting now but his fever is
climbing steadily. Paul wants to try to get the bullet out soon before Joe’s
fever gets out of control. I think it
would be a good idea to make sure we have plenty of ice on hand in case we need
to use it to bring the fever down.
For the next hour Ben, Adam, and Hoss
talked among themselves, sharing their concerns and fears for Little Joe. Hoss eventually went upstairs to look in on
Joe then to lie down and rest for awhile.
Adam continued to pace the floor like a caged animal. Annoyed, Ben said, “Sit down, Adam or go
outside and do something; you’re making me nervous!”
“Sorry, Pa.....but there is something I
need to tell you. Back up on Seven Mile Ridge found..... Adam never finished his sentence. Ben raised a hand to silence his son when Doc
Martin came down the stairs carrying a tray of surgical instruments. “Joe’s fever is down a bit so I’m going to
try to get that bullet out now. Ben,
would you have Hop Sing boil these instruments for me?”
Doc Martin looked over at Adam who was
standing by the fireplace rubbing one side of his face and looking
disconcerted. Adam wanted to tell Pa
about the foot prints he had found but it would just have to wait a little
while longer.
“Adam,” called the doctor. “I need you to go sit with Joe while your
father and I get everything ready. Oh, and Adam.....would you please go wake
Hoss. I may need all three of you to help hold Joe down again during the
surgery.”
Adam and Hoss were waiting in Joe’s room
when Ben and Doc Martin returned with the sterilized instruments and clean
bandages. Joe lay on his back with the
blankets pulled down to his waist. He
was moaning softly while the doctor washed and dried his hands. No one spoke as
Doc Martin picked up the sharp scalpel from the tray and positioned it above
the bullet hole then pressed down to make a small
straight incision. Joe arched his back
and let loose a mournful howl. Ben felt
as if someone were ripping his heart out.
Without looking up, Doc Martin shouted,
“Ben, Adam, Hoss!
I need you to help hold Joe still.
I can’t do anything if he’s thrashing around!” Paul quickly handed Ben a piece of wood
tightly wrapped in cloth to put in Joe’s mouth for him to bite on. Three pairs of hands positioned themselves on
Joe’s body, holding him down while Doc Martin wiped away the fresh blood from
the incision. Next, he picked up the
long tweezers and inserted them into the ragged hole and began probing for the
bullet. Joe groaned, struggling to evade
the digging of steel in flesh, his face beaded with perspiration. A small amount of blood pooled to the surface
making it difficult for Paul to see into the wound. He continued to probe without much
success. He had to stop every few
minutes to give Joe a brief rest from the pain.
A muscle ticked in Ben’s jaw each time Joe cried out.
“Damn, this bullet is imbedded deeper
than I had thought, I can just barely see it,” said Doc Martin.
“Paul!
Joe can’t take much more of this!” exclaimed Ben in an agitated voice.
“Just one more time, Ben....hold him down
just one more time, I’ve almost got it!”
The doctor pushed the probe deeper into
Joe’s shoulder, causing young Cartwright to gasp and finally pass out.
“Got it!” shouted the doctor. He reached across the bed and handed the
bloody bullet to Ben. Ben walked over to
Joe’s desk, dropped heavily into the wooden chair and breathed an audible sigh
of relief. He held the bloody bullet
between his thumb and forefinger, rotating it slowly while Doc Martin prepared
to stitch up the wound in Joe’s shoulder.
Ben could feel
the sticky warmth from his son’s blood on his fingers. Suddenly, a puzzled look formed on his face
and he grabbed a towel. He wiped off the
remaining blood from the bullet and said, “Paul....look at this. A small fragment of this bullet is missing!”
Doc Martin abruptly stopped and turned to
face Ben. “What did you say?”
Ben handed the bullet back to the
doctor. “It looks like a part of this
bullet is missing.”
Hoss and Adam moved in closer to get a
good look at the bullet too.
“You’re right, Ben,” said Paul as he
turned to look at Joe’s pale sweat-drenched face. “That piece must have broken off when it struck
Joe’s shoulder blade. Right before I
pulled the bullet out I noticed a small crack in his
shoulder blade.”
Doc Martin looked at Ben, Adam, and Hoss
then back at Little Joe; a troubled expression on his face.
“Joe has already been through enough in the
last few days.....plus his fever is rising again. I feel it would be dangerous at this point
for me to go back in an look for that fragment. He
needs time to rest and time for us to get the fever back down.”
“What about the infection, Doc?” asked
Ben.
“With the main part of the bullet gone,
the infection should slow down a bit....long enough to get his fever under
control using cold compresses and packing him in ice....if it comes to that.”
Doc Martin tied off the stitches in Joe’s
incision then reached into his black bag and pulled out a small bottle of
medicine. “Here, Ben....give him one teaspoon of this medicine every four
hours. It should help fight the
infection. This amount will only last
you until tomorrow afternoon. When its empty send one of your boys into
With Ben’s help, Doc Martin secured a
fresh bandage around Joe’s shoulder and chest.
Joe was just starting to come around when they lay him back down on the
pillow. Soft little whimpers and moans
filled the room again as Joe shifted uneasily beneath the blankets.
Doc Martin put his hand on his old
friend’s shoulder and said, “Ben....stay close to him, especially tonight. The next twenty-four hours will be the most
critical for Little Joe. If he survives
the night then he has a good chance of pulling through this. I expect his fever will spike to a critical
level either tonight or tomorrow. He may
even go into a convulsion. That will be
his body’s last defense against the raging fever.”
“Can’t you stay, Paul?” asked Ben, a hint
of fear in his voice.
“I wish I could, but I have other
patients who need me too. I’ve done all
that I can for Little Joe right now.”
“What about the bullet fragment still in
Joe’s shoulder?”
“I realize that anything I say won’t ease
your mind or make you worry any less, Ben.
Its not causing any hemorrhaging right now and I will be back tomorrow
to check on Joe. If his fever is down then
I will attempt another surgery to remove it.”
Ben reluctantly accepted the doctor’s
diagnosis and accompanied him downstairs to see him out. Adam placed another cold damp cloth on Joe’s
forehead then pulled a chair up to the side of Joe’s bed and sank down heavily
into the soft cushions. Hoss came to
stand by Adam and said, “I truly believe he’s gonna
make it Adam. He’s just gotta! You’ll see!”
Adam heaved a weary sigh as he looked
into the optimistic eyes of his younger brother. He wished he had just one ounce of that
optimism now; maybe then he wouldn’t feel so cynical and afraid. “Sure, he’ll be alright,” said Adam,
unconvinced.
Ben walked into Joe’s room in time to see
and hear Adam and Hoss whisper a prayer for their little brother’s
recovery. “Its
been a long day. You boys go get some
rest. I’ll take the first watch with Joe
then one of you can relieve me in a few hours.”
Adam and Hoss reluctantly left Joe’s
room. Hoss went back to his room to get
some sleep while Adam returned to his room long enough to wash up, shave and change his clothes. It was time to tell his pa about what he had
found up on the mountain.
When Adam returned to Joe’s room, he saw
his father trying to get Joe to take some medicine and drink some water. Doc Martin had cautioned Ben to force fluids
into Joe to prevent him from becoming dehydrated from the fever. Ben bathed Joe’s face with cold water then
placed the cloth on his forehead.
“Pa, I need to talk to you,” began Adam,
“I want to go back to Seven Mile Ridge.
Right before we pulled Joe up the side of the bluff I noticed a set of
footprints close to Joe’s head. They
weren’t my footprints because I never stepped over in that direction. I also noticed that not only did they lead
toward Joe but then they turned around and lead away from him. I strongly believe those were the footprints
of the man who shot Little Joe. Whoever
it was must have come down to investigate.
Its looked to me that when he saw Joe was still
alive he left in a hurry.”
Stunned, Ben asked, “Do you realize what
you are saying, Adam?”
“Yes, Pa! Whoever shot
Joe deliberately left him there to die.
He must have seen how bad off Joe was and
didn’t expect him to be found or survive the bitter cold night.”
Ben frowned and said, “What type of man
would be cold-hearted enough to leave another man to die?”
“Someone who is running
from the law, someone who doesn’t want to be found!”
Ben moved closer to Joe’s side, peeked
under the bandages on his shoulder then pulled the blankets back up to his
shoulders. Joe was becoming more
restless and his fever was still rising.
Ben turned back to speak to Adam just as Joe started to thrash about
violently beneath the damp sheets.
“Please don’t hurt me! No,
no....don’t leave me!” sobbed Little Joe.
The meaning of Joe’s words suddenly hit
Adam like a ton of bricks. His little
brother was calling out to the man who had left him on the mountain to
die.
His conversation with Adam suddenly forgotten,
Ben quickly grabbed Little Joe’s outstretched hand. “Settle down, Joe....no one’s going to hurt
you, boy. We’re not going to leave
you.....you’re safe at home with your family!”
It took Ben and Adam several minutes to
calm Joe down from his fever induced panic.
All Ben could do was hold Joe’s hand and
offer soothing words while his youngest son’s delirious mind forced him to
relive those brief moments of being shot, the terrible fall that followed then
facing the demon who was the cause of all his pain and suffering. Adam wished he could ask Joe about the
man in his delirious mind but Joe was too incoherent to tell them
anything. Adam knew he was going to have
to wait for Joe’s fever to break before he could help them find the man who
shot him.
Ben got Joe settled again then he and
Adam bathed him off with cold water.
Ben spent the rest of the evening keeping
watch over Little Joe, forcing fluids and medicine into him and continuing with
the cold compresses and sponge baths.
Adam and Hoss tried several time to relieve their father throughout the
night but Ben refused to leave Little Joe’s side. All he could think about was Doc Martin’s
counsel to stay close to Joe throughout the night.
CHAPTER 6
Shortly after 2:00 am.
Joe’s fever hit the critical point. Ben
was jolted awake by the sound of Joe’s moaning and writhing. In the weak glow of the candle, Ben could see
that Joe’s thrashing movements had completely knocked the blankets and sheets
from his son’s body. Joe’s bed linens
and body were drenched in sweat and he was shivering violently. Ben immediately called to Adam and Hoss to
fetch some ice from the icehouse. Hoss
and Adam quickly returned with several buckets of ice and together the three of
them wrapped the chunks in towels and placed them against Joe’s feverish
skin. They placed some under his arms,
on his chest, around his neck and against the insides of his thighs. Joe fought like a wildcat and tried to get
out of bed when the ice first touched his bare skin but he soon relaxed as the
ice began to cool his body.
Joe lay totally helpless and exposed in a
pool of sweat and melted ice, his hard, lean body overcome with pain and
fever. A continuous symphony of moans
and whimpers accompanied the steady rhythm of Joe’s labored respiration, his
chest visibly rising and falling with each short, explosive exhale.
The crisis temporarily averted, Little
Joe soon settled back into short periods of sleep then vivid delirious
dreams. Ben sent Adam back to bed for a
few hours rest while he and Hoss spent the next hour adding more ice to Joe’s
feverish body as the old ice melted.
Little Joe’s temperature gradually began to drop allowing Ben and Hoss
an opportunity to remove the wet sheets from Joe’s bed. Hoss gently lifted and held Little Joe’s limp
body while Ben stripped the wet bedding from the bed and replaced it with clean
sheets and blankets. Ben then sent Hoss
back to his room for some rest while he finished settling Joe back into
bed. A few hours later, Ben went to
Adam’s room to ask him take the next shift with Little Joe. Adam watched his exhausted father trudge past
him on his way to bed, a sad look in his eyes.
Armed with a blanket, oil lamp, and a book to read, Adam settled his
frame in the chair close to Joe’s bed.
He was careful to keep the glow from the oil lamp down so as not to
disturb his brother. He allowed just
enough light to remain to keep Joe’s still form faintly illuminated in the warm
orange glow from the lamp. Little Joe’s
temperature rose again several times during the night but Adam was able to keep
it under control with cold compresses and sponge baths. Adam continued to force fluids into Joe and
administered his medicine as per the doctor’s instructions. Oblivious to the
stress and anxiety he had caused his pa and brothers, Joe finally settled down
a few hours before dawn and slept more peacefully.
Hoss came to relieve Adam just as the
stars began to fade and the sky turned a dusky grey. When he entered Joe’s room, Hoss found Adam
dozing in the chair by Joe’s beside; a book lying open on his chest. Hoss could barely see the top of Little Joe’s
head peaking out from under the pile of blankets on the bed. Hoss stood over Joe briefly before turning to
wake up Adam.
“Adam? Adam? Wake up.”
“Mmmmmm........huh?”
mumbled Adam, the book dropping to the floor as he straightened up. “How’s Joe doing?” whispered Hoss.
Adam shook his head and rubbed his fists
into his eyes to clear away the last vestiges of sleep. “You don’t have to whisper, Hoss. He won’t
hear you. He’s out cold now.”
“I heard Joe moaning and crying a few
times during the night. Even sounded like he was throwing up a couple of times.”
“You heard right. I think the medicine the doc gave him made
him nauseous and sick to his stomach.”
“How’s his fever?” asked Hoss.
Adam walked over and placed his hand on
Joe’s forehead. “Its not as high as it
was last night but he’s still really hot.
I didn’t have to use the ice again, but you’ll need to bathe him with
cold water frequently and try to get some water into him. He hasn’t had any more since the last time he
threw up. That was about and hour ago.
That was also when I last gave him his medicine. He really hates the taste of it and he’ll try
to put up a fight.”
Hoss chuckled and smiled at Adam’s
comment. “Looks like its
almost gone,” said Hoss, holding Joe’s medicine up to the light from the lamp.
Adam yawned. “You’ll have to send one of
the ranch hands into
The lump on the bed began to stir and
moan again when Adam turned to go to his own room. Adam instinctively turned back around to
check on his little brother but Hoss stepped in front of him and gave him a
gentle persuasive shove toward the hallway.
“You’ve been up all night, now go to bed! I’m taking care of Joe now!”
Adam didn’t stick around to argue; he had
other things on his mind. Sitting up with Joe had given him a lot of time to
think. He was determined to go back to
Seven Mile Ridge to search for any evidence that might reveal who had shot
Little Joe.
The air outside was still very chilly so
Adam dressed warmly then went downstairs to have a cup of coffee and something
to eat. Hop Sing had just put on a fresh
pot when Adam entered the kitchen.
“What you doing up so early, Mista Adam? Littow Joe alright?”
“Little Joe is still very sick. He had a really rough night. Hoss is with him
now,” replied Adam.
Hop Sing furrowed his brow and studied Adam
as he started to place a bag of coffee and jerky on the table in the
kitchen.
“You going
somewhere, Mista Adam?”
“Yes I am, Hop Sing. I’m going back to Seven Mile Ridge. I want to nose around the area. I found something up there and I’m going back
to check it out. I want to look for
anything that might tell us what happened up there as well as who is
responsible for shooting Joe.”
“Very cold outside. Very long ride. You take plenty of supplies.”
Adam was touched by Hop Sing’s concern. As
far back as he could remember, Hop Sing was always
fussing over the boys like a mother hen. He had been with the Cartwrights since Adam was a young boy; to them he was like
another member of the family.
Adam went out to the barn to saddle his
horse while Hop Sing filled his saddlebags with fresh ground coffee, smoked
jerky, beans and other supplies for the trail.
Before closing the saddlebags, Hop Sing carefully wrapped a huge slice
of the hot apple pie he had made for Little Joe and tucked it in with the rest
of the food supplies.
Adam returned to the kitchen, told Hop
Sing he would be back by tomorrow at the latest, then slung the saddlebags over
his shoulder and walked into the living room.
The high-ceilinged room was cold and silent except for the occasional
snap and crackle from the fire in the massive stone fireplace. Adam’s footsteps echoed off the hardwood
floor as he crossed
the room to get a rifle and box of shells from the gunrack at the base of the stairs. He shoved the shells
into his coat pocket then went back upstairs to check on Joe and tell Hoss and
his pa where he was going. Adam stopped
at the entrance to Joe’s room and saw that Hoss was busy trying to calm down
Little Joe so he continued down the hall to his father’s room. He knocked lightly on the door with his
knuckles and waited for a reply. When he
received no answer, he very quietly opened the door and glanced at the
bed. Ben was wrapped up in the blankets
and snoring softly. Adam didn’t want to
wake him; his father had spent more than half the night up with Little Joe and
desperately needed some rest. Adam
closed the door without a sound and returned to Joe’s room.
Little Joe was moaning softly when Adam
stepped into the room. Hoss looked up
from bathing Joe with cold water and asked, “Where you off to, Adam?”
“I’m going back up to Seven Mile
Ridge. I talked to Pa yesterday and told
him how I found some footprints close to where Joe was lying against the
boulder up there on the mountain. I think they might belong to the man who shot
Little Joe.”
Hoss frowned and shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”
“Guess I was too worried about Little
Joe; my mind was preoccupied with getting him home safely. Also, I didn’t want to give you or Pa
something else to worry about.”
“You can’t go up there alone, Adam. There was a ring around the moon last night;
you know what that means.....snowstorm comin’ in
soon.”
“That’s exactly why I have to go
now. I don’t want the snow to cover up
any tracks or evidence the shooter might have left behind.”
Hoss could see it was pointless trying to
convince Adam not to go so he conceded and said, “At least take one of the
ranch hands with you. I won’t worry so much about you and Pa won’t yell too
loudly at me for not tellin’ him earlier that you was leavin’.”
Adam laughed and said, “Yes, mother!”
Hoss flashed Adam a devilish grin and
pretended to throw a towel at his big brother. “You git
now, and be back as soon as you can. And
be careful!”
Adam smiled as he ducked around the door
frame then paused and stuck his head back in. “Hoss, be sure to tell Pa where I
went. He’s asleep right now and I don’t
want to wake him.”
Hoss started to answer when his attention
was pulled back to Little Joe.
“Help me.....no, no......don’t leave me!”
cried Joe as he rolled over onto his right side and stretched out his left arm
to stop the phantom in his mind from leaving him. As soon as he felt his weight on the bullet
wound, Joe arched his back and cried out.
Hoss rushed to his side and quickly rolled his baby brother over onto
his back.
Joe blindly reached out, grabbed onto Hoss’s hand and held on tightly until the intense pain in
his shoulder eased into a steady aching throb.
Tears formed in Hoss’s
blue eyes. “You’re safe little brother.....no one’s gonna
hurt ya! Shhh.....shhh.....I’ll protect ya....go to sleep.”
The sound of Hoss’s
voice seemed to settle Joe down for awhile but the pain and the infection were
taking their toll.
The last thing Adam heard as he left the
house was Little Joe’s gut-wrenching pleas for help. Adam winced at the sound of his brother’s
sobbing voice. He looked toward the top
of the staircase, a deep weary sadness reflected in his eyes. Adam closed the door behind him then turned
and walked to the bunkhouse to ask Josh Miller to accompany him back up into
the high-country to Seven Mile Ridge.
CHAPTER 7
The day started out crisp and clear with
a few high, wispy clouds. Up in the distance,
the mountains were dressed in their brightest autumn colors. Reds, golds and
oranges dotted the landscape while higher up the pine trees towered over the
land like ancient sentinels,
keeping watch over the Ponderosa ranch. The miles fell behind them as they made good
time riding back up to the spot where Joe was shot. About halfway there the temperature began to
drop and the wind shifted directions, now blowing from the north. Adam glanced up at the dark ominous looking
clouds drifting in from the north and prayed that the snow would hold off for
at least another day. Adam and Josh rode
in silence only stopping briefly for a quick lunch and to water their horses.
Shortly after finishing their lunch, both
men arrived below Horse Thief Point where Joe had been shot. They tethered their horses to a tree and
covered the remaining two miles of rugged and steep terrain on foot. Only the faint and muffled crunch of gravel
and pine needles beneath their boots broke the dreary silence. Adam and Josh used the abandoned guide-rope
Hoss had rigged to descend back down to where Adam and Hoss had found Joe. Adam quickly located the mysterious
footprints then turned and signaled for Josh to follow. The route the presumed shooter had taken back
up the slope was treacherous. Several
times Adam and Josh slipped on the loose dirt or lost their footing when the
rocks beneath their feet broke free from the damp earth. Both men cautiously worked their way up
through the boulders and detritus until they were a few feet from the top. Adam tossed his rifle up then scrambled the
last few feet on his hands and knees. He
rolled onto his stomach and reached down to help pull Josh up beside him.
“Whew.....that was some climb!” Josh
exclaimed, trying to catch his breath.
Without saying a word, Adam stood and
surveyed the area then started forward again.
Josh could see the single-minded determination in his employer’s hazel
eyes. Adam was not going to let up until
he found some answers. Josh hoisted himself
to his feet and quickly caught up with Adam.
Up until now, following the mysterious footprints had been relatively
easy but Adam soon lost the trail in an ancient rock slide. The tracks ended abruptly at the base of a
huge pile of boulders that lay strewn haphazardly over an area twice the size
of the Ponderosa ranch house, deposited there by an ancient glacier. Adam cursed their bad luck but didn’t give
up. After twenty minutes of climbing
over boulders and old tree stumps, Josh called to Adam that he had picked up
the trail again. A
short while later, the trail ended at a campsite not far from the entrance to
the old Yellow Bird mine.
Apparently, the shooter had camped there in the shelter of the trees
surrounding the entrance to the mine.
From the looks of things, it appeared he had left in a hurry. The blackened carcass of some small animal
still remained poised on a stick over a cold campfire and several other items
lay scattered around the campsite.
Adam pointed toward the mine and said,
“Josh, you search over in that direction and I’ll search over here near the
remains of this campfire.”
Adam walked slowly around the circle of
stones. He kicked a dusty blanket out of
his way then picked up a broken branch, sat back on his haunches and poked
around the cold ashes that was once a campfire. He was about to leave and search somewhere
else when he noticed a piece of partially burned paper peeking out from under
the blackened wood. He removed his glove
and carefully pulled the paper from the ashes.
Most of it was burned away. All
that remained were a few words and the rough sketch of a young man in his early
twenties with dark, curly hair. Adam
could barely make out the words above the picture...._ANTED DEAD OR ALI__.
The first and last few letters had been burned off by the fire. Below the picture, Adam could see the words train
robbery, murder and cattle rustling.
Adam shook the remaining ashes from the
paper to get a better look at the face on the poster. The color drained from Adam’s face as he
instantly recognized the face on the poster.
“Oh my God!” thought Adam. “This
poster must have something to do with why Joe was shot.”
Adam carefully tucked the remains of the
poster into his pocket then stood to look around some more. He was walking towards a stand of pine trees
when he heard a yell. He turned quickly
to see Josh running towards him carrying something in his hand.
“Hey Adam.....check this out,” yelled
Josh.
“What did you find?” asked Adam.
Josh handed Adam a very large knife with
a serrated blade that measured ten inches in length. The handle was made of ivory and mounted on
the end of the handle was the head of a horse that had been fashioned from gold. Adam turned it over slowly in his hand,
examining it closely. Without looking up
from the knife, Adam asked, “Where’d you find this?”
Josh smiled at Adam, jerked his head to
his right. “Over
yonder. Looks like someone
dropped it. I found it hidden in some
brush off to the side of the trail. I
reckon someone rode outta here in a big hurry!”
“Quite careless of him to have dropped
this,” said Adam. “He must have been in a big rush to get out of here....like
he didn’t want anyone to find him or know he had been here. Now if we can only find out who this knife belongs to, then we’ll have our man!”
“Did you find anything, Adam?” asked
Josh.
Adam reached into his coat pocket and
pulled out what was left of the burned wanted poster and handed it to
Josh. “Take a real close look at the
young man in this picture. Does he look
familiar?”
Josh held the poster and studied the face
for a long time. Suddenly, the light of recognition came on in his eyes and he
said in an excited voice, “Why this fellar here looks
just like Little Joe!”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,”
replied Adam in a steely voice. “I’m
willing to bet that some bounty hunter saw Little Joe up here the other day
when we were hunting that mountain lion, mistook him for the criminal in the
poster and shot him. Then when he went
to retrieve the body and saw he had shot the wrong man he must have panicked
and left in a hurry!”
Adam’s statement stunned Josh, leaving
him temporarily speechless. “Geez....Adam, aren’t bounty hunters supposed to uphold the
law? Not go around shooting innocent
people. My God, he almost killed Little
Joe then ran off and left him to die! That makes him no better than the
criminal in this poster!”
Adam looked at Josh, his eyes as cold as
ice. “If it was a bounty hunter that
shot Joe, he just crossed the line and made himself a wanted man too!”
Adam and Josh spent another half hour
searching the deserted campsite for any additional information or evidence that
would lead them to the shooter’s identity.
When they could find no other useful clues or information, they
abandoned their search and decided to follow the horse tracks that lead away
from the camp to see where their mystery man was headed.
The tracks headed north for awhile then
quickly turned and headed downward in a southwest direction as the unknown man
circled around below the spot where the boulder had stopped Joe from plunging
over the cliff. Adam and Josh had no
idea where he was going, only that he had most likely left the area.
The sky had started to darken and a few
small snowflakes began to fall so Adam and Josh
quickly returned to where they had left their horses and headed back to the
Ponderosa. Neither man wanted to be
caught up in the high-country during a snowstorm. A light drizzle began to fall so both men
donned their rain slickers and continued on their way home. By late afternoon, Adam suggested they stop
and spend the night at the old line shack down on Red Rock Creek. The small cabin was comfortable as well as
weather-proof and the corral had a lean-to for the horses to shelter under
during bad weather.
Adam awoke shortly before dawn. Although it was still dark outside, there was
enough light in the cabin from the approaching dawn for Adam to see his breath
in the cold air. Reluctant to leave the
comfort and warmth of his blankets, Adam forced himself to get up to stoke the
fire in the hearth that had dwindled down to a faint flicker during the
night. He added more firewood to the
fire then put on a pot of coffee to boil.
He slowly stretched his sore muscles then glanced over at Josh who still
appeared to be asleep. He smiled as he pulled his coat tighter around his
shivering body then walked over to open the door of the cabin. He was greeted by a cold gust of air and a
few errant snowflakes still swirling in the frosty wind.
“Hey......close that door! It’s already
freezing in here,” came a muffled shout from the pile
of blankets by the fire.
Adam closed the door. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Hell....I was until you decided to open
that door!” protested Josh.
“Well, since you’re awake now, let’s get
breakfast over with so we can get back to the Ponderosa before
“You’re the boss,” replied Josh. Adam thought he heard a few choice come words from the grouchy bundle on the floor. He just laughed and poked Josh in the side
with the toe of his boot then went to prepare breakfast.
Adam and Josh ate a quick breakfast of
hot coffee, jerky, leftover biscuits and Hop Sing’s
apple pie. By daybreak, they were back
in the saddle again and headed home. By
now the snow and rain had ceased and the sun was struggling to get through the
thick clouds. Adam was glad this
snowfall, the first snow this year since spring, had confined itself to the
high-country. The crisp autumn air was
scented with the earthy, pungent smell of decaying leaves mixed with the
fragrant scent of pine. Farther down the
mountain, rain from the night before had made the trail muddy and slippery. Despite all of Mother Nature’s efforts to
slow them down, Adam and Josh still made it back to the Ponderosa well before
CHAPTER 8
Adam was in the barn giving Sport a
rubdown before going into the house when he heard his father’s voice behind
him. Adam had been concentrating on what
he had found as well as his suspicions concerning who had shot Little Joe, that
he hadn’t heard his father enter the barn.
“Hello Adam.....I was looking out Joe’s
window when I saw you and Josh ride up just a few minutes ago. What did you and Josh find up there on Seven
Mile Ridge?”
The barn was silent; the only sound was
the soft swishing of the curry brush as Adam brushed Sport’s shiny coat with
strong purposeful strokes. Exhausted
physically as well as emotionally, Adam stopped, leaned his head forward and
rested his forearms on his horse’s back.
“Did Hoss tell you I went back to Seven Mile Ridge to further
investigate the boot prints I found when we were pulling Joe up the side of the
bluff?”
Ben rubbed a hand through his silvery
hair. “Yes, Hoss told me you had gone
back up there to try to find some answers as to who shot your little
brother. I wish you had woke me up and
told me you were leaving.”
Adam pulled a few more brush strokes down
Sport’s neck then answered, “You were exhausted and I didn’t have the heart to
wake you.”
“When you’re finished out here, come
inside and tell me about what you found,” said Ben in a tired voice.
“By the way....how’s Joe doing?” asked
Adam.
“He had another rough night. His fever spiked dangerously high again and
we had to keep him iced down for almost half the night. He seems to be getting
weaker. I think the infection is getting
worse.”
Ben’s words hit Adam like a
sledgehammer. A lump formed in his
throat as he came face
to face with the possibility that they might lose Little Joe. He could not begin to imagine what life would
be like without his little brother.
Adam’s mind was suddenly flooded with memories of all the times he would
have liked to kill Joe himself but in the end Joe’s youthful exuberance,
enthusiasm and smile saved him from his big brother’s wrath. It was breaking Adam’s heart to think that he
might never
again hear Joe’s unique laughter or to see his mischievous green eyes smiling
back at him.
Ben turned and walked out of the barn just
as the afternoon sun surrendered to the cold grey
storm clouds that were lingering from the night before. A light drizzle began to fall, quickly
turning into a steady rain. Adam glanced
out at the dreary October day and thought how the weather reflected the somber,
tearful mood inside the house. It was
almost as if the heavens were weeping for Little Joe.
Adam finished rubbing down his horse then
turned to leave. He stopped at the
entrance of the barn when he saw Joe’s horse, Cochise
toss his head and whinny softly. Adam
rubbed the pinto’s forehead then patted him on the neck. “I know fella, you
miss Joe don’t you? We’re all worried about him,” said Adam. Before leaving the barn he gave Cochise a measure of grain and another soothing pat on the
neck.
By now it was raining quite heavily. Adam slung his saddle bags over his shoulder, pulled up the
collar on his coat then sprinted for the house. The warmth inside the ranch house felt
comforting to Adam. He unbuckled his gun
belt then rolled it up and placed it on the credenza by the door. He had just finished peeling off his wet coat
when Hoss came lumbering down the stairs.
“Pa just told me you were back,” said Hoss. “Did you find any answers?”
“Josh and I followed the tracks I found
by Joe’s body to a campsite near the old Yellow Bird mine. It looked like somebody wanted get out of
there in a big hurry. Whoever was there left food supplies, a blanket and a couple of
other items just lying around. We
followed his tracks leading off the ridge for a couple of miles then gave
up. He just circled back around and
below Horse Thief Point then headed west,” Adam replied.
Hoss jerked his head toward the
kitchen. “I was just coming down here to
get some more cold water....Joe’s still burning up with fever. Why don’t you go upstairs, Pa’s with Joe. I’ll be up in
just a moment then you can tell us what you and Josh found.”
Hoss turned to go into the kitchen when
Adam asked, “Has Doc Martin been by to check on Joe
today?”
“Nope, haven’t seen him yet. I reckon the rain has slowed him down. I’m sure he’ll be here sometime soon.” Hoss disappeared into the kitchen while Adam
slowly trudged up the stairs. He stopped
by his own room first to change into a clean dry shirt. Before going to Joe’s room, he removed the
knife and burned wanted poster from his saddlebags.
Adam could hear Joe moaning and muttering
incoherent words from all the way down the hall. Ben was wiping drops of sweat from Joe’s
chest and shoulders when Adam entered the room.
The tell-tale red stain on Little Joe’s bandaged shoulder told Adam that
his father and Hoss had been unable to keep him still during the night. Adam looked at Ben then at Joe’s
shoulder. Ben read Adam’s thoughts and
said, “We had a hard time keeping him quiet during the night. This is the second time he has torn open some
of the stitches in his shoulder. I sure
hope Doc Martin gets here soon!”
Joe continued to whimper and shift
restlessly beneath the blankets while Adam and Ben waited for Hoss to return
with a new pitcher of cold water. After
refilling the basin by the door, Hoss went and sat down carefully on the foot
of Joe’s bed. Ben stood and reached for
a towel to make a new cold compress for Joe’s forehead. Adam reached out, took it away from him and
said, “You sit down and rest Pa! Its my turn to take care of Joe.”
Adam pressed the cold wet towel onto
Joe’s forehead then checked his little brother’s fever by placing the back of
his hand against Joe’s flushed cheeks.
Speaking to no one in particular, Adam said, “He doesn’t feel as hot as
he did a couple of days ago.”
Hoss, eager to know what Adam and Josh
had found asked, “So big brother, what did you find up there on Seven Mile
Ridge?”
Ben looked up from where he was sitting
with his head resting in the palm of his hand.
He cocked his head in the direction of Joe’s desk and asked, “What’s
that over there on Joe’s desk?”
Adam walked over to the desk, handed the
wanted poster to his father then picked up the wicked looking ten inch knife
and handed it to Hoss.
Hoss let out a low whistle and said,
“Boy......this is one mean ugly lookin’ knife!
Where’d you find it?”
Adam ran one hand through his thick black
hair and replied, “Josh found it lying off to the side of the trail near the
old Yellow Bird mine. I’m guessing
whoever owned it dropped it when he made his hasty exit from his campsite.”
Hoss continued to turn the knife around
in his hand while Ben examined the piece of burned wanted poster.
Adam was standing close to Joe’s bed
studying the expression on his father’s face when Joe managed to slide his
splinted right arm out from under the covers.
Before Adam could stop him, Joe’s arm fell limply to the side and bumped
into Adam’s thigh. Little Joe’s face
contorted in pain and a weak high-pitched cry escaped his lips. Ben instinctively jumped to his feet and
rushed to Joe’s side.
“Shhhh
shhhh......Joe. Try not to move, son. Go to
sleep now boy....just go to sleep.”
Ben continued to whisper soothing words
to his injured son as he maneuvered Joe’s broken arm back under the
covers. Ben picked up the wanted poster
and sat back down in his chair.
Adam continued to scrutinize his father’s
weary face, anticipating an explosion any minute. Suddenly Ben’s exhausted eyes widened in
recognition. “Here it comes!” thought
Adam.
Ben jumped to his feet, glanced first at
Little Joe lying on the bed then back at the face on the poster. “The young man
in this poster.......he looks exactly like Little Joe!” exclaimed Ben.
“Let me see, Pa!” said Hoss, jumping to
his feet to look over his father’s shoulder.
Without looking up from the face on the
poster, Ben asked, “Where did you find this, son?”
“I found it buried in the ashes of a
campfire near the old Yellow Bird mine,” Adam replied. “This is all that remained, the name of the man on this poster was
burned off.”
Hoss looked up from the poster with a
puzzled expression and said, “You’re right!
The fellow in this poster does look like Little Joe.”
Ben and Hoss listened intently while Adam
revealed how he thought Joe had been shot by a bounty hunter who mistook the
youngest Cartwright for the outlaw on the poster. Adam went on to explain how it looked like
the unknown bounty hunter had come down the side of the bluff to retrieve the
body and when he found it wasn’t the man in the poster, he had panicked and ran. Ben was horrified to think that someone had
deliberately left Joe to die. Now Ben
understood why his son was pleading for help from an unknown man in his dreams.
Ben and Hoss asked Adam a few more
questions about the knife and if Adam knew where the bounty hunter was headed
when he took off after shooting Joe.
Although he appeared unconscious, Little
Joe could hear his father and brothers.
Their voices sounded distant and muffled
in his confused mind. He desperately
wanted to say something but the words refused to form on his lips; his thoughts
sweeping away as quickly as they began to form.
Joe’s pain, confusion, and frustration
began to manifest itself in his restless tossing and turning. Ben heard Joe’s erratic shifting movements
and turned to look at his son lying helpless in the center of the bed. He saw Little Joe’s glazed eyes flutter open
briefly. Ben could see the pain
reflected in Joe’s green eyes and he felt powerless to ease his son’s
suffering.
Ben reached out to touch Joe’s face just
as Doc Martin’s buggy pulled up into the Cartwright’s yard. One of the ranch hands dashed out into the steady
rain to take the buggy and horse into the barn while the doctor made his house
call. Paul thanked the man, then ran for the protective cover of the front porch.
Hop Sing answered the door, took the
doctor’s coat and asked, “You make Littow Joe better
now?” Paul smiled at Hop Sing. “That’s what I’m hoping to do. I plan on removing the remaining bullet fragment today.... if Joe’s fever has come down.”
Hop Sing nodded his approval. “All Cartwright’s upstairs. You go and fix Littow
Joe now!”
Doc Martin brushed off a few raindrops
from his medical bag and chuckled as he started for the stairs. Hoss stepped out of Joe’s room just as Paul
reached the top of the landing. “Thought I heard your voice there, Doc.”
Paul clapped Hoss on the shoulder and
followed him back into Joe’s bedroom.
Hoss stepped aside, allowing the doctor a clear view of Little Joe who
lay buried beneath a pile of blankets.
Joe’s face was bathed in sweat and he was very pale. Ben breathed an audible sigh of relief when
he saw the doctor enter the room.
Doc Martin opened his medical bag and
pulled out a stethoscope so could listen to Joe’s heart. When he saw the blood stained bandage on
Joe’s shoulder he frowned. Paul turned to
look at Ben and the boys then began removing the bloody padding from beneath
the bandages. Joe flinched and yelped
when he felt the doctor touch the bandage.
Without looking up Paul asked, “What
happened here?”
“We’ve had a devil of a time keeping him
still,” replied Ben. “One minute he
would be sound asleep then suddenly he would start thrashing about.”
Doc Martin closely examined the red and
inflamed flesh surrounding the stitches in Joe’s shoulder. He was worried the
infection was getting worse.
Little Joe made small mewling sounds
while the doctor listened to his heart and lungs. Paul then gently cleaned off the clotted
blood from Joe’s wound so he could get a better look at the damage that Joe had
done to his stitches. Ben didn’t like
the look on Paul’s face when he placed his hand on Joe’s forehead.
“Well Doc?” ventured Ben. “Is his fever
low enough for you to remove the bullet fragment today?”
“He’s still warmer than I would like, but
on the other hand, I don’t like the looks of this wound. The infection appears
to be getting worse.” Doc Martin stood
there silently rubbing his chin as he tried to decide what would be best for
Little Joe. Finally he looked into the
worried eyes of Ben and his sons.
“The medicine doesn’t seem to be
working. Doc Martin paused then
continued, “I’m afraid if we wait much longer Joe will be too weak to survive
another surgery. For Joe’s sake, I think
I better get that fragment out now!”
Ben’s eyes widened with fear. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t
find the words to express the fear he felt for his youngest son. In a protective gesture, Ben moved to stand
close to Little Joe. Doc Martin wished
he could say something that would alleviate Ben’s fear and apprehension. The one thing Joe had going for him was that
he was young and strong.
At the doctor’s request, Adam and Hoss
took the surgical instruments down to the kitchen to be sterilized while Ben
and Paul prepared Joe for the operation.
Hoss returned a short while later with
the sterilized instruments as well as additional towels and bandages. While he sat with Joe during the operation,
Ben asked Adam and Hoss to take over running the ranch. The Ponderosa had gone neglected long enough
and it was time to get back out there and see to the daily business of running
a ranch. Ben hoped it would also serve
to temporarily take Hoss and Adam’s minds off of worrying about their little
brother.
Doc Martin carefully laid out his
surgical instruments on the bed by Joe’s side.
“Before I start Ben, I want to have another look at Joe’s broken arm and
leg.”
Ben helped the doctor pull back the
covers from Joe’s body. Paul carefully
loosened the splint from Joe’s right arm and felt the various spots where the
bones had broken to see if it was still properly set. Joe gasped and cried out as he tried to jerk
his arm away, causing another painful shockwave to explode in his arm. The combination of the pain and the cold air
forced some of the fever-induced haze from Joe’s mind. He could hear his pa’s voice and another
voice that seemed familiar as he struggled to clear the fog in his mind. Joe’s glazed eyes fluttered open briefly and
as he turned his head to the side he saw Doc Martin’s scalpel, bullet probe and
other surgical instruments lying on the bed.
While the doctor examined Joe’s leg, Ben turned and
looked down into his son’s panic stricken face.
“No!...Pa...No!”
begged Joe. “No, please.....don’t let
him cut me again!” Tears poured down
Joe’s cheeks as he wept like a small child.
“Oh....please Pa....please....don’t let
him hurt me again!” pleaded Little Joe. “I can’t take it anymore!”
Ben sat down on the side of the bed and
lifted his fearful son into his arms and just held and rocked him. Joe lay his head on
his father’s shoulder as he shook and sobbed uncontrollably.
Paul could see the anguish in Ben’s eyes
as he held his son tight against his chest.
Ben finally lowered Joe back down onto
the pillow when he felt his son’s body finally relax in his arms. Joe continued to shiver as Ben tucked the
blankets around his son’s body.
Ben suddenly felt a stab of uncertainty
about allowing the doctor to operate on Joe now.
As if reading Ben’s thoughts, Paul
reached into his bag and pulled out a small brown vial of liquid.
“What’s that?” asked Ben.
“Morphine. I would
rather not give it to him but in his agitated state he is going to do himself
more harm than good if we have to hold him down while I probe for that bullet
shard. I’ll just give him enough to dull
the pain and help him relax so he’ll go to sleep and hold still.”
Ben sat on the side of Joe’s bed and
tried to explain to his frightened son that Doc Martin was going to give him
enough morphine to put him into a deep sleep so that he wouldn’t feel much
pain.
Paul gave Joe a very small dose of the
morphine then sat down to wait with Ben for the drug to take effect. As the drug began to take effect, Little
Joe’s words became more incoherent then finally turned into soft mewling
sounds. Satisfied that his patient would
not wake up or put up much of a struggle, Doc Martin began the operation.
Ben sat on the other side of the bed and
held Joe’s left hand while Paul reopened the earlier incision he made in Joe’s
shoulder. Paul was grateful that the morphine he had given Joe was holding him
in a deep state of unconsciousness. He
needed for Little Joe to hold perfectly still while he probed for the missing
bullet fragment.
Joe’s breathing continued to come in long
gasps accentuated by deep moans while Doc Martin probed for the bullet fragment.
Ben closed his eyes and whispered a
silent prayer for his youngest son. When
he opened his eyes he saw the angelic face of Joe’s mother, Marie, smiling at
him from the silver frame on Joe’s dresser.
He was glad Marie wasn’t here to see her son so sick. Ben stood to make a fresh cold compress for
Joe’s forehead and by the time he returned to Joe’s bedside he heard Doc Martin
exclaim, “I got it!”
Ben felt as if the weight of the world
had been lifted from his weary shoulders.
Paul watched as Ben collapsed into a chair and buried his face in his
hands. When he looked up again, Doc
Martin saw Ben smile for the first time in days. Three days of worry, mental anguish and sleepless
nights sitting up with Little Joe had taken their toll on his old friend.
Ben reached out to hold Little Joe’s hand
again. “Where was the bullet fragment?”
“It was hiding underneath his collarbone.
The piece must have ricocheted back and wedged beneath the collarbone when it
struck his shoulder blade. That was why I couldn’t see it the other day.”
Doc Martin handed Ben the small bloody
piece of metal that was the cause of Joe’s infection and high fever.
Ben remained by Little Joe’s side while
Doc Martin cleansed the wound then stitched up the incision.
When the doctor was finished, Ben helped
support Joe’s limp body while the Paul rewrapped Joe’s shoulder and chest with
the clean bandages. When Paul was
finished, Ben eased Joe back down onto his pillow, pulled the covers up to his
shoulders then gently tucked him in.
Joe’s breathing was still a bit labored but he seemed to be resting more
peacefully now that the surgery was finished.
Ben went downstairs to get a tray of food
for himself and the doctor while Paul finished cleaning up and putting away his
surgical instruments.
Ben was afraid to leave Little Joe alone
so both men sat in Joe’s room while they ate.
Paul was curious if they knew who had
shot Little Joe so Ben told him about the wanted poster and the knife that Adam
and Josh had found up on Seven Mile Ridge.
The doctor listened intently but still kept an eye on his patient,
waiting for Joe to regain consciousness.
Before he left the house, he wanted to see Little Joe awake.
Doc Martin sat with Ben in Little Joe’s
room for several hours keeping watch over his patient and monitoring Joe’s
fever.
Soon, the sound of distant thunder and
familiar voices slowly broke through the obscure mist in Joe’s mind. He opened his eyes to a flash of lightning
followed by a loud clap of thunder. Joe
winced at the sound and whispered, “Pa?”
Both men jumped at the sound of Joe’s
voice and rushed to his bedside. Paul
looked in Joe’s still glazed eyes, checked his pulse and listened to his heart
again.
Ben smiled down at Little Joe and
answered, “Yes son.....I’m here.”
Joe paused to swallow and said, “My head
hurts somethin’ awful....please stop that loud
thunder!”
Doc Martin and Ben both looked at each
other and laughed. Joe’s sense of humor
was returning and that was a good sign.
“Your headache, young man..... is from the morphine,” said Doc Maritn. “It does that to some people.”
Doc Martin placed his hand on Joe’s
forehead and smiled. Satisfied that his
patient was going to live to cause no end of mischief and grief to his pa and brothers,
Paul turned to Ben and said, “His fever is still pretty high. Continue with the cold compresses and sponge
baths. You should see his fever start to
drop in the next few days. Also,
continue to give him the medicine and try to force as much fluid into him as
possible. Keep a close eye on him and I
want to know immediately if his fever spikes again!”
“Pa?” interrupted Joe in a soft whisper.
“Shhhhhhh....Joe. Don’t try to talk. Just go to sleep now,
son....just go to sleep,” said Ben, smoothing Joe’s soft curly hair away from
his face.
Joe gave his pa and the doctor a weak
smile then closed his eyes and snuggled into the warmth and safety of his bed.
CHAPTER 9
Doc Martin left shortly before sunset to
return to
Hoss sensed the change in his pa
too. He leaped off his horse and rushed
up onto the porch. “How’s
“Little Joe’s going be just fine, Hoss.”
Hoss whipped off his hat, slapped it
against his muddy thigh and shouted, “Hot diggedy! I
knew he was gonna make it....I just knew it!”
Ben laughed heartily, wiping the mud
splatters off the front of his pants.
“Doc Martin removed the bullet fragment and Joe’s fever has already
begun to come down. He’s not completely out of the woods yet, but it looks like
the worst is over.”
Hoss just stood there, looking as pleased
as a little dog with two tails.
Ben smiled at his muddy son. “You and Adam go put your horses away and
then get cleaned up and come inside for some supper. You know how Hop Sing gets when the food
starts to get cold.”
“Sure Pa, he cusses us out in Chinese somethin’ awful,” came Hoss’s joyful reply.
Unable to contain his excitement over
Joe’s imminent recovery, Hoss danced a little jig then jumped off the porch
into a mud puddle, sending a shower of muddy water onto his father’s pants and
boots.
Ben smiled indulgently at Hoss’s boyish behavior then looked up and smiled at his
oldest son who was standing silently in the background.
Adam winked and nodded at Ben then lead the wet muddy horses into the barn.
Just as the Cartwrights
were about to sit down for dinner, Adam asked if he could sit with Joe while
his pa and Hoss ate; one of them could relieve him later. Adam said he wanted to be close to his baby
brother. The two of them had been
through so much together in the last few days.
Little Joe was dead to the world and
snoring softly when Adam entered the room and sat down in the chair by his
bed. Joe’s room was dark except for a
single oil lamp that faintly illuminated the wall behind Joe’s head. Exhausted, Adam leaned back in the chair,
closed his eyes and drifted off into a light sleep.
Suddenly, Adam was standing at the top of
the bluff again, looking down at his little brother who lay broken and bloody
against the granite boulder. He could
see blood from Joe’s shoulder spilling onto the ground. He cupped his hands around his mouth and
called to his baby brother but Little Joe couldn’t hear him. Frantically, he looked for a way down. Suddenly, a tall man approached Joe from the
thick stand of Bristlecone pine trees behind Joe’s
head. From where he was standing, Adam
couldn’t see the man’s face, the brim of the man’s hat
hid his face. Adam watched helplessly as
the man knelt down beside Joe, pulled out the same ten inch knife with the
ivory handle that Josh and he had found, and cut Joe’s throat.
“NO!” screamed Adam.
Adam immediately awoke from his
nightmare, breathing hard and covered in sweat.
Hoss and Ben had heard him yelling and came running upstairs, each with
a gun in his hand. Ben frantically
glanced around the room then stopped when he saw the wild, confused look in
Adam’s hazel eyes. He went over to check
on Little Joe, who hadn’t even flinched at the blood-curdling sound of Adam’s
voice.
Ben felt Joe’s forehead and cheeks then
returned to where his oldest son was still sitting in the chair, bent over with
his hands covering his face.
Ben placed a hand on Adam’s quivering
shoulder and asked, “What’s the matter son?
What happened?”
Adam continued to sit there silently,
trying to compose himself. “I’m fine
now,
Adam was still upset about seeing the
stranger kill his little brother in his dream.
He wanted to tell his pa about it, but it was just too horrible to even
put into words.
Ben eyed his oldest son
suspiciously. He knew from experience
that it didn’t do any good to pressure Adam to talk when he wasn’t ready. When the time was right, Adam would come to
him and tell him what was disturbing him.
Hoss patted Adam on the shoulder and
gestured with his head toward the door.
“You tryin’ to get rid of me, Hoss?” joked Adam.
“You can call it anything you want, big
brother,” said Hoss. “Just go downstairs
and eat your dinner then get yourself some rest.”
“Good advice,” echoed Ben. “Ever since you and Hoss found Little Joe,
you’ve hardly slept a wink. You can’t go
on like this much longer, Adam. You’re
going to end up making yourself sick.”
Adam didn’t want to admit that his father
was right. He had hardly slept at all
that night up on Seven Mile Ridge worrying about Little Joe as he held him in
his arms. He had remained awake most of the next two nights, helping get Joe home and
then staying awake to help care for his brother and pack him in ice when his
fever spiked.
And then again last night, up in the line
shack with Josh Miller, Adam had barely slept more than three hours. Adam was so exhausted that he couldn’t
remember the last time he had enjoyed a good night’s rest.
Too tired to argue, Adam trudged
downstairs to the dining room and ate his dinner in silence while his father
sat with him and kept him company.
While Adam finished his dessert, Ben
asked in a fatherly voice, “Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?”
Adam put down his fork and rubbed his
eyes. “I was dreaming I was back up on
Seven Mile Ridge. I could see Joe lying
against the boulder at the bottom of the bluff.
He was bleeding pretty bad. I tried to get down to him but I couldn’t
move. Then suddenly, a man appeared like a ghost. He walked over to Joe, knelt down by him then
pulled out that same ghastly knife we found and slit Joe’s throat. It was horrible Pa, just horrible! All I could do was stand
there helpless as I watched this monster kill Little Joe!”
Ben reached over and placed his hand over
Adam’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m
not surprised you’re having nightmares, son.
You’ve had so much on your mind lately.
I think we all feel a sense of helplessness not knowing who did this to
Joe and why.”
“Thanks, Pa,” said Adam, feeling a little
better. “With Joe on the road to
recovery now, I think I’ll ride into Virginia City tomorrow morning and talk to
Roy about the wanted poster and the knife.
Maybe he can help us find the man who shot Joe.”
“Good idea, son...but in the meantime,
you get yourself upstairs and into bed!”
As soon as Adam finished his pie, Ben
escorted his oldest son upstairs to his bedroom then returned to Little Joe’s room to
keep Hoss company and sit with Joe for awhile.
Hoss said he would take the first shift looking after Little Joe then
Ben could relieve him in about six hours.
They both agreed to leave Adam out of the schedule since he desperately
needed to get some sleep.
Little Joe’s fever was now under control
and his breathing had started to sound more normal. He only woke up twice during Hoss’s vigil, each time asking for a drink of water.
Ben came to relieve Hoss at around
Ben sighed, then
carefully tucked the blankets back around his son’s chest and shoulders.
“Hoss...Hoss...wake up,” said Ben, gently
shaking Hoss’s shoulder.
Hoss opened his blue eyes and shook the
sleep from his head.
“Is it morning already?” asked Hoss,
yawning and looking around the room with sleepy eyes.
“No, son....its time
for me to take over and time for you to go to bed now. How’s Joe been?
Any problems?
Any more nightmares and thrashing around?”
“Nope,
Ben smiled and watched the sleepy giant
stumble out the door to his own room.
Ben sat down in the chair and picked up
the book Adam had left on Joe’s desk. He
had just started to open it when Joe stirred and rolled onto his back. The slight movement of shifting onto his back
caused Joe to let out a low exclamation of pain. Ben jumped to his feet when he heard the
distress in his son’s voice. He could
see that Joe needed help moving his broken leg back onto the pillows they were
using to keep it elevated. Ben poured a
glass of cold water and held it to his son’s lips. Without opening his eyes, Joe took a few sips
then lay back down on the pillows and fell into a
dreamless sleep. The rest of the night
passed uneventfully.
CHAPTER 10
Adam was awake before the faint glow of the
new morning began to show above the snow capped mountains. He quickly dressed and shaved then stopped by
Joe’s room to see how his little brother was doing.
Ben looked up when he saw Adam’s
silhouette in the doorway and beckoned him to come inside. He glanced at the coat and hat in Adam’s hand
and asked, “You going to see
“I couldn’t sleep anymore so I thought
I’d get an early start,” answered Adam, yawning. “The sooner we find out who shot Joe, the
better. I don’t want the trail to get
too cold.”
Ben nodded silently in agreement.
“How’s Little Joe?” asked Adam.
“He seems to be getting better. His fever
has come down some and he finally slept through the night without being plagued
by fever or nightmares.”
“That reminds me, Pa.....as soon as Joe
is coherent we need to ask him about the man in his nightmares. If there is even a remote chance that he saw
the man who shot him, then I want to know what he looks like.”
“I’ll ask him as soon as I think he is
ready to talk about it,” said Ben.
Adam went out to the barn, saddled Sport
and was gone by the time the sun had begun to melt the light frost that had
blanketed the Ponderosa during the night.
The rain had stopped sometime during the
night leaving a noticeable chill in the October air that hinted of the coming
winter. Adam glanced up at the autumn
sun that now shown brightly in a clear azure blue sky.
The citizens of
“Hi there, Adam,” greeted
“Morning Clem,” said Adam as he removed
his hat and walked over to where Clem was pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Joe’s doing much better, thank you. Doc says he’ll live.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” asked
Clem, holding out a cup to Adam.
“Sure, Clem. Thanks.”
“What brings you into
“I want to talk to
Clem frowned and said, “Sorry, Adam.
“Thanks, Clem. I’d appreciate that.”
Adam shook hands with Clem. “Thanks for
the coffee.”
Once outside, Adam stood on the raised
boardwalk in front of the Sheriff’s office letting the autumn sun warm his face
while he stared with renewed wonder at the majesty of the distant mountains.
“It sure feels good to be alive,” thought
Adam, his thoughts turning to his little brother who was going to live to
celebrate his twenty-third birthday at the end of this month. Suddenly Adam
remembered that he hadn’t purchased a birthday present yet for Little Joe. He stepped down into the mud beside Sport,
pulled the gelding’s head toward him and said to the horse with a chuckle,
“Well boy, since I’m already here in Virginia City, I better go look for a
present for that hot-headed little brother of mine.”
Adam stopped off at the post office to
pick up the Cartwright’s mail then purchased a newspaper on his way over to the
Silver Dollar Saloon. An
a couple of hours later, Adam was headed back to his horse when he ran
into Joe’s friend, Mitch.
“Hey, Adam......how’s Little Joe?”
shouted Mitch.
“Hi Mitch, Joe’s feeling a lot
better. Doc Martin says he’ll be up and
chasing all the pretty girls in town again before we know it.”
Mitch laughed loudly and said, “Yep,
that’s Little Joe alright. He’s not one
to let a little bullet wound and a couple of broken limbs keep him down for
long. Tell him “Hello” for me and that
I’ll be out to the Ponderosa to visit him soon.”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you,”
replied Adam as he mounted Sport and headed back to the Ponderosa.
CHAPTER 11
Adam was sitting behind his father’s
large mahogany desk, studying a map spread out on the desktop when Sheriff Roy
Coffee knocked on the front door. Adam
was so preoccupied with the maps that he didn’t even look up when he heard the
knock. Hoss turned and looked at Adam,
then shrugged his huge shoulders as he left his place by the fire to answer the
door.
“Hello, Hoss,” greeted
“Joe’s doing much better now that the doc
got the rest of the bullet out of him,” answered Hoss, grinning. “He’s still runnin’
a low grade fever and he’s weak as a baby from losin’
all that blood. He really had us worried
there for awhile.”
“Sure glad to hear he’s on the mend. Is
he awake now? I’dlike to talk to him.”
“Sorry
“
Ben descended the stairs and shook hands
with
“That would be nice,” replied
Ben turned to Hoss and asked, “Hoss,
would you go and sit with Joe while Adam and I talk to
“Sure thing, Pa,” answered Hoss.
As soon as the sheriff sat down, Ben
sighed and took a seat in the red leather wing chair by the fireplace. He turned his head toward the dining room
when he heard Hop Sing approach.
“Hop Sing, would
you bring us a pot of coffee, please?”
“Yes, Mista
Cartwright,” replied Hop Sing, hurrying back into the kitchen to get the
coffee.
He waited until Hop Sing brought the
coffee, then, being a man who found it hard to remain still for long, moved
across to the corner alcove of the big room where Adam was leaning over the
desk studying some maps.
“Adam,” said
Adam slowly pushed himself away from the
desk, crossed the room and sat down beside
Sheriff Coffee turned to face Adam and
said, “Clem told me you came into
Adam reached over and picked up the
burned wanted poster off the coffee table and handed it
Adam let
“Do you know if any bounty hunters
looking for Luke Maclaren have been in this area
recently,
“Funny you should ask. About...ohhh....two
weeks ago, I think.....the worst bounty hunter that ever was, a real snake of a
fellow by the name of Wolfe Brody came into my office and handed me that very
same wanted poster. He asked if this fella Maclaren had been spotted
in or around
“What does Wolfe Brody look like?” asked
Adam.
“Josh and I went back up to Seven Mile
Ridge and did some scouting around for any clues as to who shot Little
Joe. About a mile north of where Joe was
shot, up near the old Yellow Bird mine, we found what was left of this poster
lying in the ashes of someone’s campfire,” explained Adam, his voice deadly
serious.
Puzzled,
Ben leaned forward in his chair and said,
“Adam found some footprints close to Little Joe’s body that lead to Joe then
away as if someone had come down to either help Joe or see if he was still
alive.”
There was silence in the room as
“Yes,
Ben looked at Adam then said, “When Adam
first showed me the poster I thought the exact same thing,
that the fellow in the poster looked just like Little Joe. The resemblance is uncanny. And now, after hearing you say that Little
Joe looks like this Luke Maclaren too, I am even more
convinced it was Brody who shot my son!
I think Brody shot Little Joe believing he was Maclaren
then when he went to retrieve the body and saw it was not Maclaren
and that Little Joe was still alive, he panicked and ran!”
“Don’t be too hasty and jump to
conclusions now, Ben. We don’t know for
sure that poster belonged to Brody. Any
number of bounty hunters could’ve been out huntin’ Maclaren,” said
Adam stood and marched over to his
father’s desk, removed an item wrapped in cloth from the drawer then returned
to the couch.
Adam unwrapped
the large hunting knife with an ivory handle and topped with a gold horse’s
head that Josh had found up near the Yellow Bird mine.
Adam handed it to
“Why yes, Adam!” replied
Adam’s hands were trembling and his eyes had
turned black. He grabbed the knife from
“What more evidence do you need than
that,
“We’re still only talking about
circumstantial evidence here!” retorted
“Are you telling me,
No longer able to keep his anger in
check, Ben glared at
“Why are you defending this guy? You said yourself you don’t like him and he’s
probably guilty of murdering all those men he brought in for the bounty on
their heads.”
“Just simmer down, Ben,” said
“What I am trying to tell both of you
stubborn mule-headed Cartwrights, is that I can’t
have you taking the law into your own hands.
Whether or not Brody is guilty of shooting Little Joe is for a jury to
decide! Unless you can produce an
eyewitness or some piece of evidence that would prove beyond a shadow of a
doubt in a court of law that Wolfe Brody was the man who shot Little Joe, then
I’m afraid my hands are tied!”
Not knowing what more to say, Ben sat
down heavily in his chair.
Adam could no longer keep his temper
under control. He spun around on his
heel and in three determined strides stopped directly in front of
Sheriff Coffee saw Adam coming and stood
up to meet him eye to eye.
“And just what are you planning on doing
once you find him?” demanded
“If that’s what it takes.....then YES!”
shouted Adam, his voice defiant.
Fingers tented in front of him, Ben silently
watched the confrontation between his eldest son and his old friend. Suddenly he snapped upright. He could see things were quickly getting out
of control. Adam was beyond all reason
now and needed some time to cool off. A
few more minutes of this and Adam might end up punching
“Thanks
Ben walked
Adam was still stomping around and
grumbling under his breath when Ben closed the massive front door and started
for the stairs. He paused at the bottom
of the staircase, rested his left arm on the newel post and stared at his
oldest son.
“You didn’t have to be so rough on
Adam picked up the rolled newspaper he had
tossed on Ben’s desk and began to furiously smack it against the side of his
leg.
“Pa, we’ve got to do something! It’s obvious
“Adam, I’m just as angry and frustrated
as you are. Nobody wants to see the man
who shot your brother in prison more than I do.
My God, he shot one of my son’s and then deliberately left him to die on
that mountain! I’m just thankful that
you and Hoss were able to find him!”
Ben glanced down at his boots then
continued. “ Adam, as much as I hate to admit it.....
In his heart Adam knew his father was
right but he just couldn’t stand by and do nothing!
Adam watched his father climb the stairs
then angrily hurled himself backward into a chair and flipped open the
newspaper. On the second page Adam
stopped. His blood turned cold as he
recognized the name in the headline:
Judgement Day
for Luke Maclaren
By
Grant Crossland
In a rare display of bravado, outlaw Luke
Maclaren and his gang of murdering thieves and cattle
rustlers rode into Silver Hills in broad daylight to terrorize this small
frontier town. For a young man only in his twenties, this outlaw had carved a
trail of murder and mayhem all the way from the
Trouble for the outlaw and salvation for
Silver Hills blew into town a few hours behind Maclaren
like a hurricane in the form of the famous bounty hunter, Wolfe Brody.
Brody claimed he had been tracking Maclaren for several days; a long and difficult chase that
started near
“And I saw, and behold, a pale horse, and
its rider’s name was Death, and Hades followed him.
Revelation 6:7
Like a true rider of the apocalypse,
Brody marched fearlessly into the End of the Trail Saloon where Maclaren and his gang were holed up. Maclaren and his
men shot up the saloon in a desperate attempt to escape Brody’s blazing wrath.
The sounds of gunfire and broken glass exploded into the streets of this fair
city as Brody sent Maclaren’s gang straight to
Hell.
When the dust finally settled, the only
sound that broke the deathly silence was the sound of Brody’s spurs jingling on
the boardwalk and the string of filth that issued from Maclaren’s
mouth as Brody dragged him by the throat from the smoking wreckage of the
saloon. Truly, Brody must be a Rider of
the Apocalypse, for not one of the bullets fired inside the saloon had dared to
touch him.
Brody, true to his motto that dead is
better than alive, thrust young Maclaren out into the
middle of the street and challenged him to a gunfight. Silence descended on the two men like mist on
a graveyard as Brody and Maclaren faced one another
in a deadly game that would leave only one man standing.
Maclaren shouted he would meet Brody in Hell just
seconds before he drew his gun for the last time. This reporter swears he heard the devil
whispering Maclaren’s name on the wind a the split second before Brody gunned him down.
This morning Luke Maclaren
rode into Silver Hills with his gang. Tonight, he and his gang ride together to
the fiery gates of Hell. Tonight, the
ghosts on Boot Hill will be singing an outlaw’s serenade.
Adam hissed through his teeth and his
face contorted into an angry scowl. He
jumped to his feet, crushed the newspaper between his trembling hands then
flung it onto the floor. Looking like a
man possessed, Adam stalked to the front door, tore it open and marched to the
barn. He was so preoccupied that he
didn’t even see Doc Martin’s buggy pull up to the hitching post.
“Hello, Adam,” greeted Paul Martin with a
wave.
Adam didn’t even acknowledge the doctor’s
greeting. He just stomped right by him
as if he weren’t even there.
Baffled by Adam’s behavior, Doc Martin
shook his head and walked up to the open front door of the Cartwright house.
Little Joe was sitting in bed, partially
propped up with several pillows when Doc Martin peeked around the doorway. The curtains were open, allowing the
afternoon sun to warm the clean white bandages binding Joe’s chest and
shoulder.
Doc Martin smiled and asked, “How are you
feeling today, young man?”
Joe grimaced and grunted as he tried to
shift his aching body into a more comfortable position. “I feel like I got trampled by a herd of wild
horses!”
Ben chuckled and closed the book he had
been reading to Little Joe. “I think our
young patient here is finally on the mend.”
Doc Martin set his medical bag on the
foot of Joe’s bed and pulled out his stethoscope. Satisfied with his patient’s vital signs,
Paul felt Joe’s forehead. He was pleased
that Joe only seemed to be running a low-grade fever and he was even more
pleased when he heard Joe tell his pa he was hungry. Paul finished his examination by checking on
the swelling in Joe’s broken arm then making sure Joe’s leg was healing
properly too.
Doc Martin smiled at Joe then turned to
Ben and said, “The swelling in Joe’s arm has come down now so I think its time
to put a cast on his arm and his leg.”
Joe groaned and rolled his eyes at the
doctor’s remark.
“I saw that, young man,” teased Ben. “If the doc thinks its best that you should
have your arm and leg put in a cast then that’s what you’re going to get.”
Doc Martin smiled at Joe as he put his stethoscope
back in his bag then turned to Ben and asked, “Oh....by the way, where was Adam
going in such an all fire hurry? I passed him as I was pulling up into the
yard. I said “Hello” to him and he acted
like he didn’t even see me.”
Ben frowned, a puzzled expression on his
face. “Maybe I better go find out what’s
going on.”
Ben stood, placed his hand on Joe’s head
and said, “Joe.....you behave yourself, you hear? Don’t give the doc too much trouble.”
“Yes sir,” said Joe with a lop-sided
grin.
Hoss was standing in the great room
holding the crumpled up newspaper that Adam had thrown on the floor when Ben
reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Hey
“Adam was the last person I saw holding
the paper,” puzzled
Ben glanced at the open door then reached
out and took the mangled newspaper from Hoss.
He smoothed out the wrinkles then scanned the headlines for any clue as
to why Adam had abused it. He had no sooner turned to the second page when the
name “Luke Maclaren” jumped out at him. He quickly read the article describing
Brody’s “Angel of Death” heroics and suddenly he knew why Adam had rushed from
the house in such a hurry. Adam was
going after Wolfe Brody!
All Hoss heard as Ben rushed past him
was, “My God.....I’ve got to stop him!”
Hoss just stood there, totally
bewildered. Had everyone in this family
gone plumb loco? He shook his head, shrugged his massive shoulders and started
for the front door to see what was going on.
He stopped suddenly when he heard Doc Martin call down from the top of
the stairs.
“Hoss, would you please get me a bucket
of water and then help me put plaster casts on your little brother’s arm and leg?”
Hoss looked at the front door then up at
the doctor and said, “Uhhhhh.....sure Doc.”
He felt like should follow his pa out to
the barn but the doc needed him upstairs to help with Joe.
When Ben came into the barn, the
newspaper clutched tightly in his hand, Adam was tightening the cinch strap on
his saddle one more time. He unhooked
the stirrup from the saddle horn and let it drop. Before Ben could open his mouth to say anything,
Adam shouted at him, “I know what you’re going to say Pa and don’t try to stop
me!”
Ben could see the fires of revenge
burning brightly in Adam’s eyes and suddenly he felt afraid for him. He had originally come out to the barn with
the intention of making Adam stay, to convince him to abandon his suicide
crusade. But now, just standing here,
looking at the hurt and defiant expression on his oldest son’s face, Ben knew
nothing he could say or do would change Adam’s mind. He fully understood Adam’s outrage and
obsessive desire to see justice done, to see Little Joe’s attacker pay for his
crime. Adam stood there, shoulders
squared and fists clenched at his sides waiting for
the imminent lecture he was sure was forthcoming. Ben heaved a sigh and let all the pent up
tension and frustration drain from his body.
Adam still stood his ground in a fighting posture as Ben approached and
handed him the newspaper.
“Just relax, son! I’m not going to try and stop you.”
Adam stood there silently as Ben
continued, “I know you’re going after Wolfe Brody.
I read the newspaper article too.”
Adam began to relax now that he was sure
“
“
“And what if Brody wasn’t the man who
shot Little Joe?” asked Ben, playing devil’s advocate.
“Whether he is guilty or not is for a
jury to decide but in the meantime he’s going to come back here with me and
answer some questions!”
Ben glared at Adam and said, “Wolfe Brody
is an unscrupulous bounty hunter; a man with no conscience. Do you really think he is going to come back
with you willingly to face charges of shooting your little brother? Most likely, he’ll just shoot you, too. The
man has already committed and gotten away with multiple murders, all in the
name of the law. Killing one more man is
not going to matter to him, especially if it keeps him from going to prison or
to the gallows!”
Ben watched Adam’s knuckles turn white as
he tightened his grip on the reins of Sport’s bridle.
“Adam, I believe Wolfe Brody is the man
who shot your brother too, but you cannot convict a man strictly on
circumstantial evidence,” reasoned Ben. “That knife and wanted poster only
prove Brody was in the area when Joe was shot.”
“But Pa,” snapped Adam through clenched
teeth, “The tracks I found by Little Joe lead straight to the campsite where we
found Brody’s knife!”
“I’m afraid without positive
identification from an eyewitness or from Little Joe,
a judge would just let Brody walk free.
Before we move we must be sure!”
Adam’s eyes suddenly lit up and a smile
touched his handsome face at the mention of Little Joe identifying his
attacker. Adam remembered that Joe had
mentioned a stranger in his feverish dreams; a stranger to whom he had pleaded
for help.
Adam quickly tethered his horse’s reins
to the back wall of the barn and asked, “Pa, how is
Little Joe today? Is he ready to answer
some questions about who shot him?”
“Paul is with him now,” stated Ben. “He’s
still running a low grade fever but he’s lucid and aware.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all
day,” said Adam, a hint of excitement in his voice. “I think its time we asked him if he saw the
man who shot him.”
“If Joe can give us a good description of
the man,” said Ben, “ we can compare it with
Father and son smiled at one another then
walked back together into the house.
CHAPTER 12
Wolfe Brody was near enough to hell to
smell smoke when he instinctively felt the revolver in his hand. The kid had yelled something about meeting
Brody in hell just before he reached for his gun and fumbled. The young outlaw dropped like a stake driven
into the ground as Brody’s firearm pronounced the final judgement.
Brody holstered his still smoking
revolver and walked up the street to where Maclaren
lay sprawled in the dirt, staring up at the sky with sightless eyes. A large red stain blossomed on Maclaren’s chest where Brody’s bullet had pierced the
outlaw’s heart. Luke Maclaren
was dead before he hit the dirt.
Brody stood over the body like a lion
shielding his kill from other predators. Time stood still while Brody defiantly
met the curious stares of the citizens of Silver Hills. All of those who witnessed the carnage
shuddered then turned away from the cold, malevolent gaze of the the man known as The Angel of Death.
Brody picked up Maclaren’s
gun and tucked it into the front of his pants then stooped down to grab the
corpse by the ankle and drag it down the street to the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Kettridge
had heard the sounds of gunfire coming from the direction of the saloon and was
about to go check it out when he heard the loud thump of Maclaren’s
lifeless head banging on the stairs.
Just as he reached for the door handle, Wolfe Brody burst into his
office and deposited his gruesome trophy in the center of the room.
Wolfe Brody struck an imposing figure
standing a little over six feet tall.
Harley Kettridge disliked the man
instantly. Brody slapped the dust from
his pants and pushed his grey Stetson back on his
head to reveal a thick head of dark wavy hair that reached to the bottom of his
collar. He had eyes that almost appeared
to be black and he sported a mustache and a couple days growth of stubble on
his firmly set jaw. The man had the look
and smell of death all over him.
The air in the office suddenly turned
cold when Kettridge’s and Brody’s eyes met. There was no mistaking the smug look of
triumph in the bounty hunter’s cold black eyes.
Sheriff Kettridge
leaned down to get a better look at the body that Brody had dragged into his
office. Harley never expected to see the
bruised and bloody body of Luke Maclaren soiling the
floor of his office. Stunned and
repulsed, Sheriff Kettridge just stood there staring
at the dead man. He looked up at the
self-righteous expression on Brody’s face and hollered, “What the hell is
this?”
Brody glanced down at the bloody heap on
the floor. A wicked smile creased his
lips before he answered in his distinctive
Sheriff Kettridge
scowled at Brody then pulled out a voucher from his desk for the reward on Luke
Maclaren’s head.
“What’s your name, cowboy?” Sheriff Kettridge demanded.
Brody cocked his head slightly to the
left, gave the
sheriff an insolent smile and said, “the name’s Brody, Wolfe Brody!”
Harley Kettridge
had heard of Wolfe Brody but he had never seen the bounty hunter until
today.
Kettridge quickly signed the voucher and threw it at the
bounty hunter. “Now get that stinkin’ corpse outta my office
right now!” shouted the sheriff.
Brody picked up the voucher, tossed Maclaren’s gun on the desk then settled his hat low over
his eyes. He flashed the sheriff an arrogant grin
before he turned and walked out of the office......alone.
Wolfe Brody was tired and sore. All he really wanted right now was a bottle
of whiskey and the companionship of a little red-headed gal by the name of Kate
Callahan. The jingling sound of the
spurs on Brody’s boots announced his presence long before he reached the double
swing doors of the End of the Trail Saloon.
The last of the Maclaren gang had already been
hauled from the saloon and the bartender was beginning the grim task of mopping
up all the blood on the floor.
Kate Callahan had worked as a bar maid at
the End of the Trail Saloon going on two years now. Wolfe Brody had taken a fancy to her a few
months ago and no man had dared go near her since. Kate was standing on the upstairs balcony
overlooking the street when she saw Brody approaching. She was tall with high firm breasts and a
narrow waist. Her wavy auburn hair hung
loose around her bare shoulders and her emerald green eyes danced with
merriment.
Kate waved at Brody then raced down the
stairs to greet him at the door. She
squealed with delight and threw her arms around Brody’s neck. The
The next morning, Brody and Kate awoke to
the sound of someone pounding on the door.
“Whoever that is, tell them go away or I’ll
shoot them,” grunted Brody as he pushed Kate out of bed and rolled over onto
his side. Kate quickly pulled on a robe
then went to answer the door. She had no
sooner turned the key in the lock when the door flew open and Sheriff Kettridge and his two deputies burst into the room.
Brody reacted instinctively to the sound
of breaking wood. He grabbed his gun
from the bedside table and rolled out of bed onto the floor. Harley Kettridge
glanced around the empty room then his eyes settled on the dusty pair of men’s
boots lying on the floor beside the bed.
Kettridge was pretty sure Brody was somewhere
in the room. Sheriff Kettridge shouted, “Alright, Brody.....I know you’re in
here!”
One of the young deputies grabbed Kate
and tried to man-handle her. “You get
your filthy hands off of me,” screamed Kate.
He was rewarded for his impertinence by Kate’s teeth sinking into his hand.
“Why you little.......!” cried the startled
deputy.
Kate beneath the deputies
arm as he tried to slap her. “Will you
two knock it off?” scolded the irate sheriff.
Sheriff Kettridge
could hear muffled laughter coming from the other side of the bed followed by, “Atta girl, Kate. You give ‘em
hell.”
Kate flashed the sheriff and his deputies
a triumphant smile then sauntered over to the bed and sat down in a carefully
orchestrated move that allowed her robe to fall back and reveal a pair of
smooth shapely legs.
Kate leaned back on the bed seductively
so she could get a look at Wolfe Brody.
He was lying on his back with his pistol cocked and wearing nothing but
a smile. She smiled sweetly, blew him a
kiss then sat up and demanded, “Just what do you think you’re doing here,
Sheriff?”
“We’re here to run that no good murderin’ bounty hunter outta
town,” piped up the youngest of the two deputies.
Brody laughed then sat up and rested one
arm on the edge of the bed, keeping his gun trained on the sheriff and his two
deputies.
“Oh....is that all?” chuckled
Brody. “Might this have somethin’ to do with my leavin’
that corpse on the floor of your office yesterday, Sheriff?”
Sheriff Kettridge
clenched his teeth and tried to hold his temper in check. “I talked to some of the townspeople here in
Silver Hills who witnessed that gunfight between you and Maclaren
yesterday afternoon. Several people said
Luke Maclaren was unarmed when you dragged him out of
the saloon. They said they saw you shove
a gun into Maclaren’s hand just before you threw him
out into the street. According to all
the people who saw it, you had every chance to bring that boy in alive but
instead you chose to murder him!”
“I wouldn’t go around claiming that if I
were you,” threatened Brody, his black eyes turning cold. “It was a fair fight! He drew first!”
“Fair fight my ass!” exploded Sheriff Kettridge. “You
deliberately provoked that boy into a gunfight!
It was your plan all along to kill him!
You had no intention of bringing him in alive!”
Brody wrapped the bed sheet around his
waist and pushed himself to his feet.
His grip on the gun handle tightening, Brody snarled, “That boy......as
you refer to him, was raised with a gun in one hand and a milk bottle in the
other. Crossin’
that killer is about as dangerous as walkin’ in quicksand
over hell. Way I see it......I did this
community and the world a big favor by ridding the world of Luke Maclaren and his gang of merry cutthroats.”
“I don’t care how you see it, Brody! I want you out of my town in an hour, ya hear? I’ll be back
here in exactly one hour to escort you out of my town and if you ever show your
face in Silver Hills again, I’ll lock up your sorry ass and throw away the
key!”
Before Brody had a chance to reply,
Sheriff Kettridge and his two deputies backed out of
the room and closed the door. Kate
sauntered around the bed and threw her arms around Brody’s neck. “You ain’t gonna let that old sheriff scare ya
off now, are ya, hon?”
Brody gave Kate a sly wink followed by a
lascivious grin. “You heard the man,
Kate. He said I had an hour before I had
to leave so let’s make the most of that hour.... if ya
get my drift!”
“Why, I do declare,” giggled Kate. “Whatever do you have in mind?”
Brody released the hammer on his pistol
and tossed it on a chair. The sheet he
had wrapped around his hips dropped to the floor as he peeled off Kate’s robe,
scooped her up into his arms and tossed her onto the bed. The old bed frame squeaked and moaned in
protest when Brody’s massive frame came crashing down on top of a very naked
and willing Kate.
True to his word, Sheriff Kettridge was back at the End of the Trail Saloon exactly
one hour later. Brody ambled down the
stairs at his own pace, his rifle resting on his shoulder. When he reached the landing, he tipped his
hat to the sheriff and the curious onlookers who had turned out to watch the
most feared bounty hunter be run out of town by their sheriff.
Brody’s silver grey
gelding was saddled and waiting for him just outside the saloon doors.
Brody descended the rickety wooden stairs
then paused on the street to admire the scantily clad red-headed beauty
standing on the balcony above him. In a
dramatic and cavalier gesture intended to shock the citizens of Silver Hills,
Brody swept his grey Stetson from his head in a
sweeping arc and bowed deeply over one knee to the soiled dove on the balcony
above. “Farewell my lady; till we meet
again. Oh, parting is such sweet
sorrow!”
Brody stood up again, blew Kate a kiss then
slammed his rifle into the scabbard on his saddle. In one fluid motion, Brody grabbed his
saddle horn and threw his right leg up and over the saddle. He grabbed the reins of his horse then
gestured with his hand for the sherrif and his
deputies to mount their horses. “Shall
we.....my good man?”
Harley Kettridge
wanted to make a biting remark to Brody but then thought better of it.
Together, the sheriff and his deputies
escorted the bounty hunter to the edge of town.
Once clear of the city limits, Brody let out a whoop and a holler then
spurred his horse into a reckless gallop.
Kate remained standing and waving on the balcony until Wolfe Brody
disappeared in a cloud of swirling dust.
CHAPTER 13
When Ben and Adam stepped into Joe’s
room, they could see that Hoss and Doc Martin were not having much success in
getting Little Joe to cooperate and hold still while the doctor applied a
plaster cast to his broken arm. “Hold
still and quit wiggling, little brother!” scolded Hoss.
“Quit pulling so hard on my arm, Hoss!”
complained Little Joe, his voice rising in protest. “Whatcha
trying to do? Break it again?”
“Don’t tempt me....short shanks!” chided
Hoss with a smile. “I’m already madder’n a rained-on rooster that Adam and I will be doin’ all your chores for you until spring!”
Joe glared at Hoss through squinted eyes
then gave him his most charming and angelic “you hurt my feelings look.” He knew from experience that Hoss could never
resist the power of that look. He had
learned from a very early age how to manipulate his brothers to get what he
wanted. A wide-eyed puppy dog gaze mixed
with just the right amount of pouting, and they were putty in his hands.
Hoss scowled at his baby brother. “Ahhh...dadburnit, Little Joe. Don’t be goin’ and
given me that look!”
Doc Martin laughed at the repartee
between the two Cartwright boys as he continued to smooth the wet plaster over
Joe’s arm. In an effort to discourage
Joe from using his arm, Doc Martin applied the cast all the way from Joe’s hand
up past his elbow to midway between elbow and shoulder. This type of cast would severely limit Joe’s
range of motion, thus preventing him from using the arm.
“How’s it going?” asked Ben. “Is Joe behaving himself?”
“Ahhh....Pa?”
whined Hoss. “Little Joe is giving me
and the doc a hard time! I think I liked
it better when he was unconscious!”
Joe jutted his jaw forward and glowered
at Hoss. Adam laughed at the humorous
exchange going on between his two brothers.
“Just like old times,” laughed Adam.
Little Joe leaned forward and demanded,
“And just what are you laughing at big brother?”
Joe suddenly flinched as a piercing stab
of pain reminded him of his bullet wound and the stitches in his shoulder.
Adam raised his hands in a gesture of surrender
and said, “I’m not laughing at you, Joe....I’m just happy to see you’re back to
your old self again. You really had us
worried there for awhile.”
Finished with Little Joe’s arm, Doc
Martin moved to the left side of the bed and flipped up the covers to expose
Joe’s broken leg.
Paul grinned when he saw that Little Joe
was still as naked as a newborn baby beneath the blankets. “Ben.....I think its time you got some
underclothes on this boy. Once I put the
cast on his leg its going to take some good old Yankee
ingenuity to figure out how to get pants on him.”
Joe blushed and quickly pulled the covers
up to his chin with his good arm. He
wasn’t too enthusiastic about everyone seeing him naked while
his pa attemped to put some underwear on him.
Adam saw the hesitant look on Joe’s
face. “Ahhh,
Joe.....don’t be so bashful. You haven’t got anything the rest of us
haven’t already seen before. By the way,
who do you think undressed you in the first place while you were unconscious?”
Little Joe had no witty comeback for Adam
so he just sat there with a sullen look on his face and submitted to being
dressed. Ben cut off the left leg of a
pair of long johns above the knee then slipped Joe’s feet into them and pulled
them up to his thighs. Adam and Hoss
helped lift Joe up off the bed so their father could finish pulling the garment
over Joe’s hips. With Joe now in his
underwear, Doc Martin set to work removing the leg splint and casting Joe’s
leg. Again, the youngest Cartwright was
admonished to hold still while the plaster dried and set. Doc Martin was glad Ben was in the room
because with his pa present, Joe was more cooperative and complained a whole
lot less.
Joe was more quiet
now and less energetic than he had been when Ben and Adam had first entered the
room. Ben could see Little Joe’s eyes
beginning to droop and he guessed that his son would soon be asleep. If they didn’t ask Joe now about what happened
up there on Seven Mile Ridge they wouldn’t get another chance until morning.
When Doc Martin finished casting Joe’s
leg, he informed Ben that he would be back the next morning to see how his
patient was coming along. Ben thanked
the doctor then walked him out to his buggy while Adam and Hoss did their best
to keep Joe awake a little longer.
When Ben returned he took a seat on the
edge of Joe’s bed. Rubbing the stubble
on his chin he said, “Joe.....we need to ask you some questions about what
happened that afternoon when you were shot.”
“I’m sorry, Pa,” said Joe with a yawn. “There’s not a whole lot that I remember about
that day.”
Ben smiled at Joe. “Just take your time, son.....its very important that you try to remember.”
After a brief pause, Ben asked, “Can you
tell us what you do remember?”
Joe sighed and settled back deeper into
the pillows. “I remember being up on
Seven Mile Ridge hunting that cougar that had been killing livestock.....”
began Little Joe. “I was following some
cat tracks along that narrow trail right above Horse Thief Point.” Joe paused for a moment while he stared at
the ceiling. “I remember being hit real
hard by something.....it must have been the bullet because the next thing I
knew I was tumbling down the side of the bluff.
I must have been knocked out because the next thing I remember I was lying on my side with my arm pinned behind me and my
shoulder feeling like it was on fire.”
Adam leaned in close to his little
brother and asked, “Do you remember what you saw when you came to?” All three men watched intently as Joe yawned and
tried to shift into a more comfortable position.
“I remember you leaning over me, Adam,”
said Joe.
“Before that....Joe. Do you
remember seeing another man before Hoss and I found you?”
Joe frowned and rolled his head back and
forth on the pillow. Most of what
happened after he fell over the side of the trail was a disturbing blank in his
mind. “I don’t remember anyone else
being there with me,” snapped Joe. “I
was all alone until you and Hoss found me!”
“Joe,” pressed Adam. “I found some foot prints near your
body. Someone else got to you before we
did then intentionally left you there to die!”
Joe’s eyes widened in
disbelief. “I already told you, Adam! .I don’t remember
anyone else finding me!”
“Think Joe, think! Its very important that you.......”
Ben quickly raised his hand and
interrupted Adam. He could see that
Little Joe was becoming agitated and confused.
“That’s enough questions for now.
Let him get some sleep. We can
talk about this again tomorrow.”
Ben escorted his two oldest boys out the
door then pulled the heavy curtains closed over Joe’s window to help insulate
the room against the chilly autumn air.
When Ben turned around, he could see Joe struggling to find a
comfortable sleeping position. He felt
bad for his son because the heavy casts would be an annoyance to Joe for the
next several months. Ben helped settle
Joe then tucked him. Before blowing out
the flame in the oil lamp, he said, “Goodnight son, just holler if you
need anything.”
All Ben heard in reply was a soft rhythmic
purring sound coming from Joe’s bed.
CHAPTER 14
Ben, Adam and Hoss ate their dinner in
subdued silence. After dinner, while Ben
attended to the paperwork involved in running the ranch, Hoss went out to the
barn to finsih some chores and Adam went to sit with
Joe. Hop Sing sent a tray of food up
with Adam in case Little Joe was hungry.
Even though Adam said Joe would probably sleep until morning, Hop Sing
insisted he take it anyway.
Adam was reading a book when Ben and Hoss
each poked their heads into Joe’s room. Adam assured them that Joe was fine
then bid them both goodnight, followed by a reminder
to Hoss to come and relieve him in a few hours.
Adam must have fallen asleep because the
next thing he knew he was jolted awake by the sound of Joe’s frightened voice
calling out for help. “Help me
mister! Please don’t leave me!”
Adam leaped to his feet and rushed to
Joe’s bedside. As gently as possible,
he grasped his little brother by the shoulders, attempting to calm and comfort
him. “Easy there, Joe....no one’s going
to hurt you. You’re home....you’re safe
with your family.”
Still caught up in his nightmare, Joe
opened his frightened eyes and stared at Adam.
“Don’t touch me with that knife! Get it away from me!” pleaded Joe,
thrashing around in Adam’s arms.
“My God,” whispered Adam. “He’s dreaming about the man who shot
him.”
Adam continued to offer soothing words to
his little brother but he could see that Joe couldn’t hear him.
“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me here to die! Oh God,
please.....help me!” desperately pleaded Little Joe, grabbing and holding
Adam’s wrist in an iron grip.
Joe’s frantic cries for help instantly
awoke Ben and Hoss. Both men came
stumbling into Joe’s room in time to see Joe wrapped in Adam’s strong arms and
sobbing on his shoulder. “He left me
Adam....he deliberately left me to die,” choked Joe between sobbing spasms.
Ben was relieved that Little Joe
remembered seeing the man who had left him to die on the mountain but it broke
it heart to see his son suffer so much pain, physically and
psychologically.
Joe looked up through his tears and saw
his pa and brother standing in the dim light from the hallway. Adam stood up and surrendered his place on
Joe’s bed to his pa. He knew that Little
Joe needed the comfort of his father at this moment.
“Pa...,” said Little Joe between short
gasps. “Adam was right. There was another man who found me before he
and Hoss did. Somewhere in the back of
my mind I remembered seeing him......but I thought he was just a
hallucination.”
Ben helped Joe lay back against the
pillows then pulled the quilt up to his son’s chin and tucked him in
again. Joe smiled at his father and
brothers. At this moment, he was extremely
thankful for his family.
“Are you ready now to talk to us about
the man who shot you, Joe?” asked Adam.
Ben reached over and took Joe’s left hand
and said, “Son.... I know this may be painful for you, but if we’re going to
find this man we need to know what he looked like, what he was wearing, how he
sounded. No detail is too small or
unimportant.”
Joe closed his eyes for a moment then
said, “He looked to be a tall man, about as tall as Adam. Joe kept his eyes closed and thought for a
moment then continued, “I remember he was wearing a dark grey
hat and a long black coat. And he had
dark shoulder length hair and a mustache.”
Joe shivered involuntarily as he
remembered lying there alone and helpless beneath Brody’s callous scrutiny.
“That matches the description of Wolfe
Brody that
“But it also fits any number of men,
too,” replied Hoss.
Confused, Joe asked, “Who’s
Wolfe Brody?”
Ben smiled at Little Joe and said, “Wolfe
Brody is a bounty hunter and we think he’s the man who shot you.” Joe have his father
a puzzled look. “Adam and Josh Miller
went back up to Seven Mile Ridge the day after we brought you back home,” said
Ben. “They followed some tracks that
Adam found back to a campsite and that is where they
discovered a wanted poster and a knife that possibly belonged to the man who
shot you.”
“Wait a minute Pa,” said Joe, suddenly
more alert. “You said Adam found a
knife?
I remember the man was holding a very
large knife. For a moment I thought he
was going to kill me
but he just used the tip of it to lift up my shirt and jacket so
he could get a look at my shoulder.”
Ben looked up at Adam, his eyes gleaming
with excitement. “Adam, go downstairs
and get the knife and the wanted poster and show it to Little Joe. Let’s see if its the
same knife that Joe saw. It’s an
extremely unique looking weapon......hard to forget.”
While Adam went downstairs to get the
knife and poster, Hoss reached out and playfully ruffled the hair on Joe’s
head. Ben smiled at the silent interplay
between his two sons. They had all been
so worried about Joe the last few days.
It was such a relief to see him interacting with the family again. The
sparkle was back in Joe’s eyes and it wouldn’t be long before he was back to
his old self again.
Adam quickly returned with the knife and
the wanted poster. He gingerly held the
sharp blade between his fingers as he handed the knife to Little Joe.
“Oh my God, Adam!” exclaimed Joe. “This is the knife! The one I thought he was going to kill me with!”
Ben breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He was now sure that it was the bounty hunter
Wolfe Brody who had shot his youngest son.
Joe shuddered and quickly handed the
knife to his father. “I never want to
see that thing again!”
“Can’t say as I blame you, short shanks,”
said Hoss. “Hey Adam, show him the
wanted poster you found too.”
Joe suddenly let out a squeaky little
yelp and pressed his hand against the bandage on his shoulder. Ben could see the wound in Joe’s shoulder was
still causing him some discomfort. Adam
waited a few seconds while Joe continued to fidget and shift around on the bed
searching for a comfortable position before handing his brother what was left
of the wanted poster.
All three Cartwright men held their breath,
waiting for a reaction from Little Joe, waiting for him to recognize the face
in the poster as his own. “Oh my God,
Pa?” exclaimed Joe. “The man on this
poster.... he looks like me. Who is he?”
“Easy now, Joe.....lie back and rest,”
said Ben. “Sheriff Coffee came over the
other day and we showed him the poster and the knife.
“Was wanted....?” asked Joe putting
emphasis on the word “was”.
“Yep....Joe,” piped in Hoss. “Luke Maclaren is now residing on boothill. Adam showed us an article in the Territorial
Enterprise about how Wolfe Brody tracked Luke Maclaren
and his gang to Silver Hills. Maclaren’s gang was holed up in the saloon and Brody just
waltzed right in there and gave ‘em all a one way
ticket to hell. According to the
article, Brody dragged Luke Maclaren out into the
street and challenged him to a gunfight.
Maclaren went for his gun but Brody outdrew
him. Shot him right through the heart.”
Little Joe grinned at Hoss while Ben and
Adam just shook their heads. They all
could see that Hoss was thoroughly enjoying telling his little brother the
story.
“It was a pretty sensational story,”
interrupted Ben, carefully scrutinizing the look on Adam’s and Hoss’s face. He had
an uneasy feeling both of Little Joe’s brothers were thinking about going after
Wolfe Brody.
Joe must have read his father’s
mind. First he looked at Adam then at
Hoss. “Are you going to go after this
Wolfe Brody?”
Joe knew the answer to his question just
from the cold look of determination in Adam’s eyes.
“Yes...Joe,” said Adam. “I’m planning on riding to Silver Hills first
thing tomorrow morning.”
“If you’re going after the man who did
this,” said Hoss, “then I’m comin’ too!”
Adam turned his head and smiled at Hoss.
He was happy and relieved to know he wouldn’t be facing Brody alone.
Hoss’s and Adam’s words hit Ben like a ton of bricks. “I don’t want either of you boys going after
this Brody,” bellowed Ben. “Its too dangerous and besides, its the sheriff’s job, not
ours!”
The muscles tightened along Adam’s
jaw. “Pa, you said yourself that you
understood why I have to go after Brody and bring him back. I’m not going to go recklessly gunning for the
man. I only want to bring him back for
questioning. Maybe he shot Little Joe
and maybe he didn’t. But he did commit a
crime when he left Little Joe without trying to get him some help!”
“I agree with Adam,” added Hoss.
Ben felt helpless to stop his sons from
possibly getting themselves killed. He didn’t want
them to go but he knew that if they waited to go through the proper legal
channels then Brody’s trail would become too difficult to follow. Resigned, Ben said,
“I’d like you to think this over
carefully before you go after this bounty hunter. Please keep in mind that Brody is an
extremely dangerous man. He’s no better
than the cold-blooded killers he claims to hunt under the protection of the
law. I have a feeling that he’s the type
of man who’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants!”
Ben could see both of his son’s had made
up their minds and nothing he could say was going to make a difference. He closed his eyes briefly and sighed then
looked at Little Joe. Joe’s face was
pale and he had a fearful look in his eyes.
“What’s the matter, son?”
“Pa......I’m worried about Adam and
Hoss. This bounty hunter, Brody, sounds
like an extremely dangerous man.”
Hoss patted Joe on the arm. “Don’t you worry about us, short shanks. We can take
care of ourselves. You just worry about gettin’ better so you can enjoy the big birthday party
we’re gonna have for you at the end of this
month.” Hoss winked at Joe and added,
“Got to get your strength back so you can flirt with all the purdy gals.”
Ben smiled and winked at Joe. “It’s very late now and Doc Martin says you
need your rest, young man.”
Adam and Hoss waited while Ben
straightened out Joe’s blankets and tucked him in for the night. In the ambient glow from the oil lantern,
Adam and Hoss could see the worry and distress etched on their father’s
face. “I’ll sit with Little Joe for the
rest of the evening,” said Ben as he escorted Adam and Hoss to the door.
When Ben stepped out into the hallway,
Adam placed his hand on his father’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry about us,
Ben looked first into Adam’s hazel eyes
then Hoss’s blue eyes, “Please be very careful. I almost lost Little Joe; I couldn’t bear the
thought of losing both of you.”
Ben watched with a heavy heart as Adam and
Hoss returned to their rooms for a few hours rest before setting out at dawn
for Silver Hills. Ben said a silent
prayer for their safe return then slipped back into Joe’s room to sit with his
son until dawn.
CHAPTER 15
Adam and Hoss left the ranch house well
before daybreak. They bid their father a
hasty farewell, neither lingering long for fear of facing another argument from
the head of the Cartwright clan.
Although their pa didn’t want them to go, they knew that deep down he
understood why they had to do it. The
Cartwright brothers were driven by a fierce sense of justice and an inherent
need to protect their own. Both men knew
the risks involved but it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was bringing Wolfe Brody back to
The weather remained fair during the four
days that it took Adam and Hoss to reach Silver Hills. The ride was cold, long and lonely so to pass
the time, Hoss and Adam talked about what they would do if and when they found
Wolfe Brody. Late in the afternoon on
the fourth day of their journey, the Cartwright brothers rode into Silver
Hills. Both were tired and thirsty as well
as sore from spending so much time in the saddle so they decided to stop in at
the saloon first then find a room for the night.
Adam dismounted, pulled his saddle bags
off the back of his horse then glanced up the street. A weathered sign that read SALOON caught his
eye. The sign on the saloon was faded so Adam couldn’t make out the name of the
establishment until he was standing right in front of it - End of the Trail
Saloon. “Somehow that seems
appropriate,” thought Adam with a wry smile.
Hoss stuck his little finger in one of
the small holes in the double swing doors.
He grinned at Adam and said, “Hey Adam.....this must be the saloon that
Brody and the Maclaren gang shot up.”
Adam stepped back a few paces on the
boardwalk to get a better view of dilapidated building. The shadows from the overhang above the doors
hid the chipped and peeling paint. “It
looks like it’s seen better days,” said Adam.
Hoss shrugged, pushed open the squeaky
double doors and walked inside, followed closely by Adam. The saloon was larger than it looked from the
outside. Despite having recently been
the scene of a violent and bloody dispute - specifically Maclaren’s
gang disputing Brody’s right to kill them - most of the damage had been
repaired. The rosewood bar at the back of the room still had several slugs
imbedded in its intricately carved surface.
The saloon was doing a brisk business thanks to Wolfe Brody. The saloon’s notoriety had recently attracted
numerous reporters and penny-dreadful novelists, all eager to write and sell to
the public the spectacular story of how the “Angel of Death” single-handedly
wiped out one of the west’s most notorious gang of outlaws.
Hoss and Adam shook some of the trail
dust from their hats then made their way to the bar located at the back of the
saloon. “What’ll it be gentlemen?” asked
the bartender.
Adam paused briefly and cringed at the
sound of the amateur piano player’s appalling rendition of ‘Darling Nelly
Gray.’ Hoss grinned at the
bartender. “We’ll take two beers.”
Hoss sucked the frothy head off his beer
and smacked his lips. “Oh, that tastes good.....nothin’
like a glass of beer to wet your whistle and wash the trail dust outta your throat.”
Adam handed the bartender a couple of
coins then he and his brother turned around and leaned casually against the bar
to silently scrutinize the faces in the room, searching for one in particular.
After a few minutes, Hoss set his empty
glass down on the scratched surface of the bar top. “I don’t see anyone who
fits Brody’s description.”
“Neither do I,”
replied Adam. “Lets go talk to the sheriff. Maybe he can tell us where we can find Wolfe
Brody.”
“If he’s still here in Silver Hills,”
added Hoss, following Adam back out into the street.
Adam and Hoss found Sheriff Kettridge in his office discussing a business matter with
one of the citizens of Silver Hills.
“Don’t worry about it none....I’ll take care of it for you,” assured the
sheriff, walking the gentleman to the door.
Harley Kettridge closed the door then turned
to face the Cartwright brothers.
“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” asked
Sheriff Kettridge.
“My name is Adam Cartwright and this is
my brother, Hoss,” said Adam, reaching inside his coat pocket for the newspaper
article describing Wolfe Brody’s capture and execution of the Maclaren gang. Adam
unfolded the piece of paper and handed it to the sheriff. “We’re looking for Wolfe Brody. That article said he was here not too long
ago. Can you tell us where we can find
him?”
Harley Kettridge
glanced at the article then asked, “What do you want with him?”
Hoss locked eyes with the Sheriff and
answered. “He shot our little brother!”
Sheriff Kettridge
silently rubbed his chin as he walked back to his desk and sat down. He leaned back in the weathered chair and
asked, “Is your
brother a wanted man?”
His temper beginning to flare, Adam
pulled Luke Maclaren’s wanted poster out of his other
pocket, handed it to the sheriff. “No
sheriff....our little brother is not wanted by the law but he does look a lot
like Luke Maclaren, same age, same facial
features.....the resemblance is uncanny.
We think Brody must have been hunting Luke Maclaren
up around where we were hunting a mountain lion about a week ago. He must have seen our brother, Joe, mistook
him for Luke Maclaren and shot him.”
“When Brody went to retrieve the body and
saw it wasn’t Luke Maclaren and he’d just shot an
innocent man,” said Hoss, ”he just up and left our brother....didn’t try to
help him....just plain left him there to die!”
Sheriff Kettridge
set the wanted poster down on his desk.
“Is your brother dead?”
“No sheriff!” replied Adam, the anger in
his voice becoming more evident. “He was
extremely lucky! We found him and got
him home and to a doctor in time.”
“Where did you get this poster?” asked
the sheriff.
“We found what’s left of that poster in the
ashes of a campfire not far from where our brother was shot,” replied Adam, his
voice caustic. “So sheriff....now that
you know why we’re here, will you tell us where we can find Wolfe Brody?”
Sheriff Kettridge
flashed Adam a wicked smile and asked, “Are ya here
to kill him?”
Adam was losing his patience. He stalked over to where Harley Kettridge was sitting, planted his hands on both sides of
the desk and locked eyes with the sheriff.
“No, Sheriff!” snapped Adam.
“We’re not here to kill him! We’re
here to take him back to
“Just simmer down,” said the
sheriff. “Didn’t mean
to get ya all riled up! As you already know, Wolfe Brody was here
several days ago. I don’t like bounty
hunters and I especially hate this one!
I ran him out of town the day after he killed Luke Maclaren
and his gang. Brody has a bad habit of
murdering the men he hunts. Never brings
them in alive. Always has a convenient
excuse as to why he always brings them in slung over a saddle. No one has been
able to pin a murder charge on him.....yet.”
Sheriff Kettridge
leaned back in his chair,
casually laced his fingers behind his head and said, “You
know.......I have a sneakin’ feelin’
that you fellars are going to be the ones who bring
Wolfe Brody down.”
Overcome by anger and frustration, Adam
slammed his fist down on the sheriff’s desk then whipped around and stalked
over to the window. This wasn’t what he
wanted to hear. To
have come all this way only to find that Brody had slipped through their
fingers.
Hoss knew it was hopeless to ask but he
asked anyway. “Did he say anything
about where he was going?”
“Sorry, can’t help you there....Brody was
none to happy about my escortin’ him outta town. Didn’t
see fit to tell me where he was headed.”
Sheriff Kettridge paused then added, “You fellars might want to talk to Kate Callahan over at the End
of the Trail Saloon. Kate is Brody’s
whore. He spent the night in her room after he killed the Maclaren
gang. I can’t guarantee she’ll talk to
you. She just might try to protect that
no good sidewinder.”
“Thank you Sheriff.....we’ll go over
there and talk to her,” said Hoss.
Hoss shook the sheriff’s hand then gently
pulled Adam’s sleeve, herding him toward the door. Hoss glanced at Adam’s
clenched jaw and the dark menacing look in his big brother’s hazel
eyes. If looks could kill, Brody would
have been dead right then and there.
The Cartwright brothers walked the short
distance back to the saloon in silence.
Adam’s boots made a loud hollow sound on the boardwalk as he hastily
mounted the stairs and marched into the saloon.
On his way to speak to the bartender,
Adam shoved several drunken cowboys out of his way. One cowboy, who wasn’t as drunk as his comrades,
took offense to being so rudely pushed aside and approached Adam with the
intention of teaching him a lesson in manners.
He quickly thought better of it when he saw the menacing look in Adam’s
eyes.
Adam stomped up to the bar and demanded,
“Where can I find Kate Callahan?”
The bartender looked around the smoke
filled room and said, “Over there....the red-headed gal talkin’
to those cowboys playin’ poker.”
Adam intended to storm right over there
and demand that Kate tell them where Brody went when
Hoss grabbed his arm and gave it a hard squeeze. Adam glared at Hoss as he tried to jerk his
arm away. “Let go of me, Hoss!”
“Not until you simmer down a bit, big
brother. You go stompin’
over to that gal with the look of Lucifer in your eyes, you’re gonna scare her and she won’t tell us nothin’.” Adam tried again to jerk his arm away but was
instantly rewarded by a solid squeeze that was soon cutting off the blood flow
to his upper arm.
Hoss gave Adam an affable smile and
asked, “You promise
you’re gonna behave yourself, Adam?”
Adam just scowled at Hoss and snarled an
unintelligible answer. Hoss twisted and
jerked Adam’s arm upward, putting an uncomfortable amount of pressure on his
shoulder as he repeated the question.
Adam knew that any more struggling on his part would result in a
dislocated shoulder so he quickly acquiesced.
Hoss smiled released Adam’s arm. “That’s better. Now let’s go over there nice and easy like
and see if the lady will talk to us.”
Adam knew Hoss was right, that to come on
too strong would immediately put Kate on the defensive and destroy any chance
they might have of getting her to talk to them about Wolfe Brody.
The piano player struck up a lively tune
only to be drowned out by a round of drunken cheering from three cowboys
playing pool on the other side of the room.
Hoss nodded towards an empty table close to where Kate was standing and
both Cartwrights quickly took a seat. Kate glanced over at the two handsome
strangers and surmised from their clothing and the fancy leather saddlebags
hanging over an empty chair that these two men had some money. Kate was always happy to help relieve a man
of his money and she was especially eager and willing if the man was as handsome
as the one wearing the black hat.
Kate gave the cowboy who had the largest
pile of winnings in front of him her most beguiling smile. “Sorry I gotta
leave ya for a moment, Sugar. I see I have some customers in need of a
drink.”
The man slapped her on the bottom and replied,
“As long as you ain’t gone too long Kate, my darlin’. You are my
lady luck tonight!”
Kate grinned at the cowboy then sauntered
seductively over to Adam and Hoss’s table.
“What’s your pleasure tonight,
gentlemen?” asked Kate in a suggestive voice, all the while staring into Adam’s
brooding eyes. Adam immediately caught
on to the fact that Kate was offering more than just a drink.
“Two beers, ma’am,” said Hoss.
Adam smiled inwardly and thought to
himself, “That’s not the only so-called pleasure the lady is offering us tonight.”
Kate quickly returned with the two beers
plus a bottle of whiskey. “How about buyin’ a lady a drink?”
Before Adam or Hoss could answer, Kate
pulled up a chair close to Adam in a calculated move that trapped him between
the wall and herself.
She poured herself a shot of whiskey then smiled and batted her long
eyelashes at Adam. Hoss grinned and
watched his older brother squirm in his seat.
“My name is Kate. What should I call you two handsome
gentlemen?”
“How do you do, ma’am?” said Hoss. “Folks just call me Hoss and this here is my
brother, Adam.”
“Pleased to meet you. What brings
you two gentlemen to Silver Hills?”
Hoss quickly answered the question before
Adam could open his mouth.
“We’re on our way back to
Adam put the beer glass to his lips and
took a long draw while he studied Kate’s expression. He swore he saw Kate’s eyes light up at the
mention of Wolf Brody’s name.
Hoss eagerly glanced around the
room. “Is Wolfe Brody here....I sure
would like to meet the fellow who killed Luke Maclaren
and his gang.”
Without taking her eyes off of Adam, Kate
replied, “He’s not here anymore.....the sheriff ran him out of town the day
after he killed those outlaws.”
Kate moved her chair closer to Adam and
started massaging his thigh. Becoming
annoyed by Kate’s behavior, Adam gave her a reproachful look as he reached
under the table and removed her hand from his leg.
“Did he say where he was headed?” asked
Adam, trying to keep a civil note to his voice.
Kate twisted one of her long, red curls
around her finger and gave Adam a sexy pout. “Why you fella’s
so interested in Wolfe Brody and where he went?”
By now, Kate was playing footsie with Adam under the table and it was making him
extremely uncomfortable. Anticipating
her next move, he quickly grabbed her slender wrist before her hand settled on
a more private place in his lap.
Angry that Adam was rejecting her advances, Kate jerked her hand away then poured herself
another shot of whiskey.
Kate stared at Adam and Hoss, her eyes
sullen and wary. Something about these
two men didn’t seem right. Alarm bells
were beginning to ring loudly in her pretty little head.
“You two lawmen? Cause if you
are then I’m not telling you anything about Wolfe
Brody!”
Angry, Kate stood up and started to walk
away when Adam reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “Kate.....please, sit
down,” begged Adam.
Adam held the chair for Kate while she
hesitantly sat back down.
“No, ma’am....we’re not lawmen,” began
Hoss. “If it ain’t
too much trouble, we would like to know where Brody was going when he rode outta here.”
Kate sat there, silently trying to decide
what these two men wanted with Wolfe Brody.
Adam could see the suspicious look on her face so he decided to try
another tactic.
Kate watched closely as Adam reached inside
his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet.
She immediately noticed the finely tooled leather and the gold “C”
stamped in the center. Adam pulled out a
ten dollar bill and slid it across the table to Kate. “We’re willing to pay for the information
we’re looking for,” said Adam.
Kate glanced down at the money then
carefully studied Hoss’s and Adam’s eyes. She was fairly sure these two men were rich
and would pay handsomely for the information she possessed.
Kate picked up the ten dollar bill, fingered
it playfully then said, “Well now......my memory isn’t what it used to
be.....sometimes I need a little extra help remembering things.”
Adam looked over at Hoss who was nodding
at him and motioning for him to give her more money. Without saying a word, Adam pulled out
another ten dollar bill and handed it to the greedy woman.
Kate frowned at the money and said,
“C’mon.....you can do better than that.
Surely the information I have is worth more to you than a measly twenty
dollars!”
With an exasperated look and a sigh, Adam reached into
his wallet and pulled out two more ten dollar bills and shoved them across the
table. Kate snatched the money and
tucked it into her cleavage. “That’s
more like it. I feel my memory returning
as we speak.”
“Now that we’ve settled on the price,”
said Adam in a cynical voice, “where did Brody say he was going when he rode
out of here?”
Kate poured herself another glass of
whiskey and downed it in one swallow.
“Brody told me he was planning on riding back to
Hoss glanced at Adam, a look of worry on
his face. “Did he say why he was going
back to
Kate fiddled with her hair for a moment
before she replied, “Brody
said something about going back there to find his knife. He also said he was going back because the
Adam reached into his saddlebags and
pulled out Brody’s knife and handed it to Kate.
“Is this the knife that Brody lost?”
questioned Adam.
Kate gave the weapon a quick glance. “Yeah......that’s it!” Suprised and
suspicious, Kate added, “Hey, how come you two have it?”
A dark cloud settled over Adam. He glanced across the table at Hoss and with
his eyes silently asked his brother if he should tell her where and how they
had found Brody’s knife. With a sober
expression, Hoss nodded his approval.
“We found this knife about a week ago, at
a campsite not far from where our little brother had been shot.”
Kate could see the pain in Adam’s eyes at
the mention of his little brother having been shot. Kate looked at both men and hesitantly asked,
“Was he killed?”
“No, but he was barely alive when Hoss
and I found him. The impact from the bullet knocked him over edge of a
bluff. The fall busted him up pretty
bad.”
Kate could see where this conversation
was headed and she didn’t like it. Just
from what she had been told so far, Kate suspected that Brody was somehow
involved in the shooting.
In a timid voice, Kate asked, “You think
Wolfe Brody shot your little brother?”
“Yes, we’re sure he did it,” stated Adam
emphatically. “I followed a set of boot
prints that I found near our brother’s body back to the campsite where we found
that knife. Also, our brother...Joe Cartwright, said he briefly saw a man that
fits Brody’s description leaning over him and holding that knife. Joe begged Brody to help him but Brody left
him there to bleed to death.”
Kate sat there speechless, a knot in her
stomach and her heart breaking at the thought of Adam and Hoss’s
little brother lying there all alone, severely wounded and possibly dying.
Adam pulled out the piece of wanted
poster with the picture of Luke Maclaren and set it
on the table. Kate picked it up and
shivered as she stared into the face of the dead man.
“Our little brother,” said Hoss nodding
at the poster, “looks just like Luke Maclaren. We think
that Brody saw Joe from a distance, thought it was Luke Maclaren
and shot him. He must have panicked when he saw he had shot the wrong man and
so to avoid going
to prison he just left him there to die from his
injures.”
Suddenly Kate was seeing Wolfe Brody in a
new light. She couldn’t believe that any
man could be that brutal and callous.
Kate shook her head in disbelief. “Wolfe Brody may be mean enough to have a reserved
seat in hell but he always stays within the boundaries of the law.”
His voice harsh and angry, Adam said,
“This time he’s gone too far! This time
Brody crossed over that boundry and made himself a
wanted man!”
Kate was not totally without a conscience. She suddenly felt a twinge of guilt for
having made Adam and Hoss pay for her information. Now that she knew just how terrible a person
Wolfe Brody really was, she was more than willing to help them find Brody and
make him answer for what he had done to Joe Cartwright. Kate reached inside her cleavage and pulled
out the roll of bills and placed them on the table. “Here, take this.....I don’t want it anymore. I don’t feel right taking your money. I hope you find Brody and make him pay
for what he did to your brother!”
Hoss grinned and winked at Kate then
reached across the table and patted her on the hand. “Thank you, ma’am, for doin’
the right thing in helping us find Brody. Don’t you worry none.....if
Brody asks how we found him, we’ll be sure not to mention your name.”
“I hope your little brother gets to
feeling better real soon,” said Kate with a smile. “You be sure to tell
him I said that...ya here?”
Kate stood up to go when Adam thought of
one last question. “Did Brody happen to
mention to you how he lost his knife?”
“Naw.....he
didn’t seem to interested in doing much talking. He had other things on his mind,” answered
Kate with a wink and a grin.
Adam stood and picked up his saddle bags
then slung them over his shoulder.
Before Kate could saunter away, he took her hand and gently kissed her
on the cheek.
Following his brother’s lead, Hoss leaned
over and deposited a kiss on Kate’s other cheek. He could see a small tear glide down her
delicate cheek just seconds before he tipped his hat and followed Adam out the
door.
CHAPTER 16
Hoss and Adam spent the night in a hotel
then left early the next morning for
The storm increased in its intensity
during the night, continuing in a torrential downpour that lasted for another
day, discouraging further travel. By
mid-morning of the following day the rain had let up enough for the Cartwrights to continue on their way home.
Five days after talking to Kate Callahan,
Adam and Hoss’s horses ambled into
Adam scratched the short prickly whiskers
on his cheek and said, “I’m going over to
“Just make it quick, Adam,” complained
Hoss, shifting his weight in the hard saddle. “I’m starving and I’m aching all
over! I can’t wait to get back to the
Ponderosa and taste some of Hop Sing’s cooking and
sleep in a nice soft bed!”
Adam reached over and patted Hoss’s ample belly. “It’ll take a lot more than a few days
on the trail and YOUR lousy cooking to even come close to starving you.”
Hoss flashed Adam an indignant look
followed by a warm, friendly smile. “While you talk to
Hoss gingerly dismounted and started
walking toward the saloon like a man who’d been in the saddle too long. “Come on boy,” said Hoss, “Let’s wash some of
that trail dust out of our throats.”
Chub snorted and flicked his tail in
reply then obediantly followed his master up the
street to the saloon.
Hoss was slapping dried mud and dust off
himself when he was greeted by the bartender in the Bucket of Blood Saloon. “Howdy Hoss. What can I get you?”
“Howdy, Sam,” answered Hoss. “I’ll have a beer.”
Sam drew a glass of beer and handed it to
Hoss. “Your pa was in here a few days
ago, said you and Adam had gone to Silver Hills looking for the man that shot
Little Joe. Any luck? Did you find him? asked
Sam, eager for a good story.
Upon hearing the words “Silver Hills,”
Wolfe Brody looked up from the corner of the saloon where he had been drinking
and playing poker with a few of the Ponderosa ranch hands.
“Hey mister, how many cards do you want?”
asked the dealer.
“Two,” grunted Brody. Without taking his eyes off of Hoss, Brody
slid two of the cards from his hand face down across the table to the
dealer. He picked up his new cards,
added them to his hand and pretended to be interested in the game.
Hoss took a big swig of his beer and set
the glass down. “No, Sam.....by the time
we got there Brody’d already left,” said Hoss. “We heard he was headed back this way. The sheriff of Silver Hills was pretty mad at
this fella. He
told us he ran him outta his town.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” replied Sam.
“Did Pa say how Joe was doing?” asked
Hoss, emptying the rest of his glass. “Me and Adam haven’t been back to the Ponderosa yet. We thought we’d stop here in town first
before heading home.”
“Your pa said Joe was doing great,” said
Sam. “In fact.....he and Hop Sing are
having a devil of a time
trying to make him rest and take it easy.”
Hoss let out a boisterous laugh. “That’s my little brother!”
Due to the exuberant voices of the other
poker players, Brody didn’t catch the first part of the conversation concerning
the reason why Hoss and Adam had gone to Silver Hills. No longer interested in the poker game, Brody
frowned then folded. “Too rich for me,
boys,” said Brody in his thick
Brody signaled to one of the bar maids to
bring him another beer. When she
returned and placed his drink on the table he asked, “Hey darlin’,
that big man standin’ over there by the bar.....I
think I know him, I just can’t recollect his name.”
The saloon girl glanced over at the bar
then smiled sweetly at Brody. “Why,
that’s Hoss Cartwright of the Ponderosa.”
Brody snapped his fingers, feigning
recognition. “That’s it.....now I
remember!”
“Anything else I can do for you, cowboy? intimated the girl with a sly seductive smile. “No, but
thanks anyway, little darlin’,” said Brody with a
wink. He gave the saucy little tart a
quick goose on her bottom as she turned and sauntered away.
“Whoooo weeeeee, I sure wouldn’t mind goin’
for a tumble with that little filly,” thought Brody as he grabbed the front of
his pants and did a quick adjustment.
“Cartwright....Cartwright....,” whispered
Brody to himself. “That name sounds
familiar. Where have I heard it before?”
Shock and disbelief hit Wolfe Brody like a
ton of bricks as he suddenly remembered where he had heard the name
Cartwright. That kid he had accidentally
shot up on Seven Mile Ridge had said his brother’s name was Cartwright.
“Nah.....it couldn’t be,” thought
Brody. “The kid was dead! He was bleeding pretty badly when I last saw
him. There’s no way he could have
survived a freezing night alone on that mountain....unless. Damn, the kid’s brothers must have found him
after I left!”
Brody stared at the money and cards on
the table, totally oblivious to the game going on around him.
“Damn! I knew I should have finished him
off as soon as he saw me!” thought Brody angrily. “If that kid is still alive he can identify
me!”
Brody began to feel nervous and edgy.
There was no doubt in his mind that the big man had gone to Silver Hills
looking for him. Hoss Cartwright must be
one of the kid’s brothers. He remembered
the kid had said “brothers” so there was one or more Cartwrights still out there looking for him.
Brody pulled his grey
Stetson lower over his black eyes and hunkered down in his chair while his hand
nervously caressed the handle of his revolver.
He looked like a coiled rattlesnake, tense and ready to strike.
A few minutes later, Adam trudged into
the saloon looking as dirty and weary as his brother, Hoss. He tossed his saddle bags up onto the bar and
signaled to Sam that he needed a beer too.
“What did
Adam took a long swallow of his
beer. “No,
“Dadburnit....,”
said Hoss. “Clem hasn’t seen Brody like
Adam leaned dejectedly over the edge of
the bar and stared at his disheveled reflection in the ornate mirror behind the
counter. “That’s what I said to
From what he could hear of Cartwright’s
conversation concerning the sheriff, Brody was positive that these two men were
brothers and that they were looking for him.
His gut instincts told him he wasn’t going to make it out of the saloon
without a violent
confrontation with the Cartwrights. If it had been his brother who had been shot,
he would have wanted revenge too. Brody
lifted his beer to his lips to take a drink.
As the strong amber liquid slid down his throat, his mind was cataloging
the two men, their dress, their manner, and their weapons. His instincts told
him these two were no amateurs. Both men
had a deadly serious quality about them, especially the one wearing the black
hat. He would pose the biggest threat,
thought Brody. From the angle he was
sitting at, he could see that the man in the black hat wore his weapon tied
down, the sure sign of a fast gun. If
they recognized him, he knew there was no way they were going to let him walk
out of her, let alone walk out alive.
A wicked smile slithered across Brody’s
face. He was going to thoroughly enjoy
this. Briefly, he wondered how these two men knew where to find him. It had to have been Kate Callahan. She was the only one who knew of his plans to
return to the
“So Kate sold me out,” thought the bounty
hunter.
Brody chuckled as he tried to imagine how
much money it had taken to get the whore to talk. Obviously, more than he
ever gave her.
Brody made a mental note to give the
little opportunist more money the next time he saw her. He had to admit he really couldn’t get mad at
Kate, actually he found the whole thing amusing.
Adam rubbed his eyes then looked up into
the mirror. A deadly calm swept over
Adam as he made eye contact with the devil himself. From Joe’s description of Brody, Adam knew they had
finally found the bounty hunter. Adam
snarled as he reached into his saddle bag and pulled out Brody’s monstrous
knife.
Startled, Hoss called, “Hey,
Adam....what’s going on?”
Hoss stood there bewildered as he watched
all the poker players sitting at the table with Brody scatter like ants when
they caught sight of Adam marching towards them looking like a possessed demon
and brandishing Brody’s wicked looking ten inch knife.
All the pent up anger, worry, and
frustration suddenly boiled to the surface as Adam grasped the hilt of the
knife and thrust it downward, embedding it in the table just inches from the
front of Brody’s shirt.
Brody didn’t even flinch. He just tightened his grip on the handle of
his gun as he calmly glanced down at his knife then back up into Adam’s blazing
eyes.
Brody’s dark eyes were as unreadable as
his face. “I was wonderin’
where that got to,” said Brody in his slow
Hoss marched up behind Adam and placed a
hand on his brother’s shoulder. He could
feel Adam’s muscles tense and quivering.
Hoss was about to speak when the saloon
doors opened and Little Joe came limping in closely followed by Ben. Although Joe’s leg was still in a cast, he was getting
around fairly well using a single crutch.
The sound of Little Joe’s unique laughter
momentarily interrupted the deadly standoff.
Adam and Hoss instinctively turned around
at the sound of their brother’s voice.
“Hey Pa.....there’s Adam and Hoss,” said
Joe smiling.
Surprised to hear that Adam and Hoss were
in the saloon, Ben turned around to see Joe staring at his two older brothers
who were standing by a table in the corner of the room.
Hoss stepped slightly to the side,
revealing a man sitting at the table.
Ben was surprised to see Wolfe Brody’s knife imbedded in the table’s
surface. Joe’s easy laughter and smile
disappeared, replaced by a look of shock and dismay that quickly dissolved into
a look of anger. Suddenly, Joe felt a
cold shiver wrap its icy tentacles around him followed by his heart leaping up
into his throat. He stood there trembling
and staring at Wolfe Brody. His worst
nightmare was about to come true for sitting not more than twenty feet from him
was the man who had shot him and then deliberately left him alone on the
mountain to die.
Brody looked to the front of the saloon, saw Little Joe standing near the bar with his arm in
a sling and a cast on his leg. He
started to laugh at this new twist of events.
“Well, what do you know?” remarked Brody
with a grin that looked as if it had been forged in a foundry. “Looks like the kid survived my bullet and
the fall! I knew I should have finished
him off when I had the chance!”
“Adam...NO!,” yelled Ben, as he watched
Adam violently jerk the bounty hunter to his feet and slam his fist into
Brody’s mouth for his insolent remark. The punch was short, wicked, and explosive.
The entire saloon went silent. All eyes watched as Wolfe Brody wiped the
blood that was trickling from a corner of his mouth. His
eyes, once unreadable, now registered malice and contempt. The flames of hell raged like a wildfire in
Brody’s black eyes. Hoss jerked off his
hat and gunbelt and handed them to his pa. Adam turned to Hoss and yelled, “No,
Hoss! He’s mine! I’m going to make him pay for what he did to
Little Joe!”
Hoss looked at his father who nodded and
gestured for Hoss to return and wait beside him and Little Joe. “But Pa.....!” started
Hoss.
“Just wait Hoss.....if Brody is more than
Adam can handle then you can get in there and help him,” said Ben, sizing up
the bounty hunter.
Brody flashed Adam his trademark smile,
grabbed the front of Adam’s coat and smashed him with a straight left that
caught him over the eyebrow, ripping a gash, followed by a right uppercut that
sent Adam spinning around and onto the floor.
Wiping the blood out of his eye, Adam staggered to his feet. Brody, with a killer’s gleam in his eyes,
stalked over to Adam and unloaded a roundhouse right at Adam’s head. Adam saw the punch coming and ducked as
Brody’s fist grazed the top of his head, and then he drove a powerful left into
Brody’s midsection. Brody absorbed the
blow with his hard stomach muscles and swung a right and a left at Adam’s jaw
that knocked him backwards onto the floor again.
Although his head was ringing from the
brutal blows, Adam could still hear Little Joe madly yelling at him to get up.....that
Brody was coming at him again. Before
Brody could reach him, Adam regained his feet then lowered his head and rushed
Brody, head-butting him backwards onto the roulette table. There was a cracking
sound of splintered wood as the table collapsed beneath the weight and momentum
of the two men.
“Yeah, Adam....get
him!” screamed Little Joe from the sidelines.
Adam and Brody grappled briefly on the
floor, each trying desperately to gain the advantage, neither willing to let go
of his opponent. With Brody now on top,
Adam managed to get his feet and knees up under him and flipped Brody up over
his head. Both fighters instantly rolled
to their feet. Without warning, Brody
grabbed a chair and smashed it down on the side of Adam’s head and shoulder. Again, Adam found himself on his hands and
knees with Brody laughing at him. Brody
grabbed Adam up off the floor and slammed him up against the wall so hard that
the impact rattled his teeth.
Adam crumpled to the floor and lay on his
side against the wall, gasping for breath.
Just before Brody’s vicious kick could
incapacitate him, Adam’s scattered senses began to function. He rolled away and got shakily to his
feet. He quickly recovered
. For the first time since he was
struck, his mind cleared. He set
himself, then attacked Brody, ripping rights then
lefts into the bounty hunter’s midsection.
Brody tried to match him blow for blow,
but Adam’s fists were brutal and seemed now to have the greater power.
Adam felt touched by a cold
savagery. He flailed away at Brody,
feeling an outlet for the frustrations that had plagued him since seeing his
little brother lying at the bottom of the bluff, bleeding and helpless.
He lashed out with such force that Brody
looked surprised. Adam sent a hard smash
to Brody’s ribcage, breaking a couple of his ribs. He experienced a surge of pleasure as he saw
Brody’s eyes reflect the shock of the blow. With a snarl of rage, Brody
launched a roundhouse swing at Adam’s face but Adam ducked under it and came up
with a swing of his own that originated somewhere near his own right boot
heel. With all the power of leg muscle,
back and shoulder, Adam sent it slamming against Brody’s jaw. Brody spun around and went down hard on the
seat of his pants. He got up with Adam
circling. With a snarl of rage,
Brody launched himself sideways onto the floor, rolled off his shoulder and
came back up in a tight crouch. Ben saw
Brody’s hand go for his gun and started to yell to his son to look out when he
heard an explosion and saw the gun knocked from Brody’s hand. Stunned, Ben whipped around and saw Little
Joe with his gun drawn, black smoke from the muzzle snaking its way toward the
ceiling.
Shocked, Brody glanced down at his bloody
hand then shot Joe a cold vicious look. With eyes blazing, he snatched his knife off
the floor where it had fallen and cocked his arm, ready to hurl it at Little
Joe.
“Joe.....look
out!” cried Adam.
A thundering report blasted on Adam’s
right and Brody was violently knocked backward onto the floor. The bullet from Ben’s gun had passed through
Brody’s shoulder and imbedded itself in the wall.
All eyes turned to stare at the once
fearsome bounty hunter, now writhing on the floor, cursing and grasping his
bloody shoulder.
“What in tarnation
is goin’ on in here?” shouted Sheriff Roy Coffee as
he charged into the saloon, rifle in hand.
“I might’ve known you would somehow be
involved in this, Brody,” said
Sheriff Coffee helped Brody into a
chair. “I got half a mind to throw you
in jail and let you bleed to death!”
Brody winced and moaned as the sheriff
looked inside his bloody jacket at the entrance wound then shoved him forward
to get a look at the exit wound.
“You’ll live......unfortunately!” said
Weakened from the pain and loss of blood,
Brody had no strength left to offer a witty comeback.
Adam flinched, grabbed the handkerchief
from Hoss’s hand and said, “Other than feeling like
I’ve been hit with a broad axe, I’m doing just fine.”
Ben chuckled and put his arm around
Adam’s shoulders.
“You beatin’
Wolfe Brody is somethin’ I
never expected to see!” said
“For awhile there, I didn’t think I was
going to walk out of here alive,” groaned Adam, holding his hand against his
battered ribs.
“You should have seen it,
Adam smiled sheepishly. “I guess I did,
“You know better’n
that, Adam!” scolded the sheriff.
“Brody made a remark about how he should
have killed Little Joe back up there on Seven Mile Ridge when he had the
chance. It infuriated me and I lost my
temper.”
A slow smile softened
Little Joe, who had been silently glaring
at the man who nearly killed him, piped up, “Brody drew his gun on Adam. I shot the gun out of his hand. I wanted to make sure it stayed a fair
fight!”
“That accounts for Brody’s bloody hand,”
said Roy, “but what I wanna know is who put the hole
in Brody’s shoulder? You do that too,
Joe?”
Ben gently placed his hand on Joe’s
shoulder. “Brody was pretty angry at Joe for shooting the gun out of his hand
so he tried to kill Joe with his knife.
I shot Brody. It was self-defense,
Ben started to apologize for Adam’s
behavior when Doc Martin rushed into the saloon.
Thinking Little Joe had been hurt again,
Paul dashed over to Ben and the boys.
Paul looked first at Joe who appeared just fine, then at Adam.
“No doc,” said
Doc Martin glanced at Brody then back at
Adam who was swaying on his feet. “I’ll
be back to check on you in a minute, Adam.”
“Fine, Doc....I’m not going anywhere,”
groaned Adam through gritted teeth. His
face ached and his ribs were so sore that a deep breath brought a twinge of
pain.
“As soon as the doc’s finished patching
up Brody,” said
Doc Martin, accompanied by deputy Clem Foster, had a couple of the Ponderosa ranch
hands help carry Brody over to his office.
Ben and Hoss helped Adam ease himself
into a chair then sat down at the table beside him. Sam, the bartender, approached the group of
Cartwright men with a bottle of whiskey and four glasses and said, “Ben.... you
and the boys better have a drink. A couple or a dozen. On the house!”
Hoss let out a hearty laugh when Adam
grabbed the bottle, put it to his battered mouth then threw back his head and
took a long, deep swallow.
“Easy there, son,” admonished Ben.
Joe, who had been nervously fidgeting and
pacing the room despite his broken leg, was still feeling an adrenaline rush
from watching his big brother do his fighting for him. He wished his injuries had been healed enough
so that he could have evened the score with Brody himself.
Adam closed his eyes briefly, let out a
small painful grunt and said, “Seeing you and Joe walk into the saloon totally
caught me by surprise. I never expected
to see the two of you here in the saloon.
What were you and Joe doing here in town? I thought Joe wouldn’t have been in any shape
to ride into
“Joe has been suffering from cabin fever
for the last few days and needed to get out.
He’s done nothing but drive me, Hop Sing and the rest of the ranch hands
crazy the last few days, haven’t you boy?” said Ben with a stern voice and a
scornful look at his youngest son. It
took all of Ben’s willpower to hold the frown.
His eyes eventually betrayed his true emotions as he broke into a hearty
laugh. Little Joe could have driven him
crazy and he wouldn’t have minded. He
was just glad to have his son back.
“You’d think that broken leg would’ve
slowed him down a bit,” added Ben. “He’s
just the same hot -tempered, bundle of youthful energy that he was before he
got shot.”
“
Hoss watched in amusement as Little Joe
tried unsuccessfully to sit down. His
broken arm and leg made the simplest tasks a major ordeal.
“Need some help there, little brother?”
asked Hoss.
Joe rolled his eyes and snapped, “What do
you think?”
Hoss laughed then whisked his baby
brother into his massive arms.
“Whoaaaaaa........easy
there,” protested Joe in a high squeaky voice as Hoss sat him in the chair like
a small child.
“Everything is back to normal,” thought
Adam as he watched Joe quarrel with Hoss over being treated like a child.
The bartender returned to the Cartwright
table with a cold cloth and handed it to Adam.
“Here, Adam. You look like you
need this.”
“Thanks,” groaned Adam as he gratefully
accepted the cloth. He closed his eyes
and
placed it on the back of his neck, hoping it would soothe
the throbbing pain in his neck muscles.
Ben stared at Adam, a concerned fatherly
look settling on his weathered face.
“You sure you’re all right, son?” he asked as he leaned over to get a
closer look at his son’s eyes.
Adam shifted uncomfortably in his chair
and winced. “I’ll be alright,
Every muscle in Adam’s body screamed in
protest every time he tried to move or take a breath. All he wanted was to get back to the
Ponderosa, take a bath then crawl into bed and sleep for the next four or five
days. The last three weeks had been
extremely difficult on him. Like his pa
and brothers, he just wanted to put all this behind him and get back to a
reasonably normal life.
As soon as
“Roy....Brody’s all patched up now. He shouldn’t give you too much
trouble.....that is until the sedative I gave him wears off. I gave him enough to knock out an elephant
and still he managed to curse and fight me like a wild animal. You can move him over to the jail in a little
while.”
“Who’s with him now?” asked
“Clem is over in my surgery keeping an
eye on him.”
Ben stood and offered his chair to the
doctor. Doc Martin pulled up the chair
close to Adam and said, “Now let’s have a look at you.”
Adam could tell he looked pretty bad by
the expression on the doc’s face. Paul
reached out and gently held Adam’s chin, turning his head from side to
side. “That’s one nasty gash over your
eye. Somebody want to tell me what
happened? From the looks of the saloon,
I would have guessed a tornado tore through here.”
“Actually, it was two tornadoes, doc,”
answered Hoss. “Adam
and that bounty hunter, Wolfe Brody.”
Adam flinched and yelped when Paul
pressed an alcohol soaked cloth to his head.
“Hey....take it easy there, doc...that stings!”
A loud burst of laugher erupted from the
doctor. “Funny how these so-called men
can fight like enraged bulls, nearly tearing one another apart while at the
same time taking a severe beating.....but come time to clean them up, they all
turn into little boys.”
“Good thing all you Cartwrights
have a thick skull,” added Dr. Martin.
Ben winked at Adam and smiled at the doctor. Years of patching up his boys after fights
too numerous to count had taught him the same thing.
Both Little Joe and Hoss broke out in a
chorus of laughter from the doctor’s observation.
“Big brother here has the hardest head of
all,” offered Hoss, grinning.
Not to be left out, Little Joe nodded
then added, “Yeah, he’s got a hard nose to match that hard head of his
too!”
Adam pursed his lips and glared at the
doctor and his two younger brothers.
“There....that’s the best I can do with
your face, Adam,” said Paul. “You won’t
be so pretty for a few days. Be sure to
put some ice on that gash. It should
help reduce some of the swelling.
Oh...and don’t smile too much.”
“Gee, thanks Doc,” said Adam, his voice
laced with sarcasm.
Grinning, Little Joe sat with his left
elbow on the table, his chin resting in his hand. He was enjoying watching the doctor fuss over
someone other than himself for a change.
“Now take off your shirt and let me look
at your ribs,” ordered the doctor.
Adam reluctantly shrugged off his jacket
and unbuttoned his shirt.
“What was that fight with Brody all
about?” asked Paul, as he examined Adam’s ribs.
“We found out he was the one who shot
Little Joe,” replied Hoss. “Brody said
some real mean things about how he should have killed Joe when he had the
chance then Adam here just plain lost it.
He grabbed Brody and evened the score for Joe.”
“Sure wish I could’ve been the one to do
it,” said Little Joe.
“You’re no match for that man, Joe!” said
Adam with disgust. “He would have
knocked you out on the first punch!”
“I could have taken him easy!” boasted
Little Joe.
Adam sighed and said, “Its
just that kind of false bravado that continually gets you into trouble, little
brother. That and your
hot Creole blood!”
Ben, who was used to playing referee,
quickly stepped in before Little Joe decided to take on Adam, regardless of his
recent injuries.
“Settle down now, boys.....I think we’ve
had enough fighting for one day.”
“But Pa.....,” complained Joe. He opened his mouth to say more but Ben
effectively silenced him with a look.
Little Joe screwed up his face and glared
at his big brother then smiled that easy smile he was famous for. He couldn’t
stay mad at Adam for long. Not after
what he had just done for him. It was
Adam who had stayed the closest to him throughout his whole ordeal. Adam was the one who had held him and
comforted him that first bitter cold night.
It was Adam who had given him the strength to hold on, to survive. Joe knew it was his family’s fierce love for
one another that had kept him alive that night, and for that he was grateful.
“There....that should do it. I want you to get plenty of rest the next few
days and no riding if you can help it,” instructed the doctor.
“I’ll make sure he follows your orders,
Paul,” said Ben.
“And one more thing,” added the doc. “Ben, I want you to give Adam a month off to
rest and take it easy. He looks
exhausted.”
“
Joe’s contagious laughter suddenly filled
the room. “Hey big brother.....,”
taunted Joe. “You don’t have to worry
about doin’ all them chores alone. I’ll be there beside you all the
way.......supervising.”
Hoss snarled and reached over and gave
his little brother a solid cuff upside his curly head.
Doc Martin helped Adam back into his
shirt then turned to Ben. “And as for
you Ben Cartwright......you should know better than to bring Little Joe into
town this soon after his surgery. The
jostling from the buckboard might have caused some more damage to that shoulder
wound!”
Ben laughed at the stern expression on
the doctor’s face. Now he knew how his
sons felt when he gave them a severe reprimand.
“OK, Doc,” said Ben in a placating
voice. “No more rides into town for
Joe. It’s been quite a chore keeping him
either in bed or confined to the ranch.
I’d like to see you try to keep this young stallion tethered.”
Joe gave the doc a sheepish look then
tried to hide behind Hoss’s massive form.
Ben could see Adam was having a difficult
time remaining in a standing position and Little Joe was starting to look tired
so he suggested they all return to the Ponderosa for some peace and quiet. The Cartwrights all
agreed they’d had enough excitement for one day.
Hoss helped Adam put on his coat then
turned to help Joe out of his chair.
Still smarting from Hoss picking him up like a baby and putting him in
the chair, Joe swatted away Hoss’s helping hand.
“I can do it myself!” exclaimed Joe.
Hoss shrugged his shoulders and walked
away, leaving Joe to flounder like a fish out of water.
Roy, who had been waiting patiently for
the doctor to finish patching up Adam, stepped forward and put his hand on
Ben’s shoulder. “Sorry Ben, I can’t let
you leave until I get statements about what happened here from you and your
boys.”
“
Ben frowned at his old friend and shook
his head. “How does pork roast and sweet
potatoes sound to you?”
“Sounds wonderful, Ben!” answered
“Good, then we’ll see you tonight for
dinner,” Ben replied as he turned to leave.
Hoss gulped and rubbed his stomach. “Mmmmm.......pork
roast and sweet potatoes. That’s
my favorite,
“Your belly is always feeling powerful
hungry!” quipped Little Joe, who was still struggling
to get out of his chair.
To Ben it looked like Joe was having a
fight with the chair. Out of sheer
exasperation, he walked over to his youngest son, grabbed him on both sides of
his chest and lifted him to his feet.
CHAPTER 17
Ben sent Adam and Hoss back to the Ponderosa
while he and Joe finished the errands that had originally brought them into
Ben and Joe made it home shortly before
sunset. Hoss met them in the yard when
he heard the jangling from the horse’s harnesses. A concerned look replaced Hoss’s
easy grin when he saw Joe leaning against their pa with his head lowered. The
long bumpy ride back to the Ponderosa on the buckboard had taken its toll on
Little Joe.
“What happened to Joe? He looks awful,” asked Hoss.
“Doc Martin was right. It was a mistake allowing him to go into town
with me. Joe tried to do too much, too
soon. I’m sure he’ll be alright after he
gets some rest. Just help him into the
house and put him to bed,” said Ben.
Little Joe didn’t even protest when Hoss
scooped him up into his arms and carried him into the house. When Joe didn’t fuss and holler about being
carried like a baby, Hoss knew he was hurting pretty bad. Hoss helped Joe into his nightshirt, settled him
into bed then covered him up with his favorite quilt. Joe was snoring softly when Hoss turned and
blew out the lamp.
Ben let loose a hearty laugh and clapped
his old friend on the back as they walked together into the house.
Hop Sing was busy setting bowls of hot
food on the table when
“Where’s Adam and Joe?” asked
Hoss reached across the table for the
bowl of sweet potatoes and answered, “No, little brother is tuckered out from
trying to do too much too soon. I just
finished tucking him into bed and Adam said he’d be down in a few minutes. He’s moving a bit slow and feeling mighty
sore from that beating he took from Brody.”
Ben handed
Ben and Hoss both broke out laughing at
the same time. “C’mon
“I don’t mind tellin’
ya, that man scares me to death! He’s either the devil himself or he’s plumb
loco. I’m hoping the circuit judge gets
here fast. The sooner I get Brody out of
my jail the better!”
“What’s so funny?” asked Adam, as he
gingerly made his way down the stairs.
Each step caused him to pause and gasp in pain. His ribs ached with each breath he took and
every muscle in his tired body cried for mercy.
“
With a stiff gait, Adam finally made it
to the table and eased his battered body into his chair. Ben still thought his oldest son should have
stayed in bed and had Hop Sing serve him dinner in his room, but Adam had
insisted on dining with
After dinner, the four men retired to the
great room for brandy and to conduct the formal business that had brought
Sheriff Coffee out to the Ponderosa. Ben
excused himself briefly to check on Little Joe.
Careful not to wake his son, Ben felt the youngest Cartwright’s forehead
for fever. Joe never even moved when his
father unbuttoned his nightshirt to inspect the wound in his shoulder. Before leaving the room, Ben pulled the quilt
back up over Joe’s shoulders then gently laid his hand on Joe’s curly hair.
“Good night, Joe,” whispered Ben.
Little Joe moaned softly then snuggled
deeper into his bed.
Adam had just finished giving
“You’ll get no argument from me,” said
Adam with a yawn. “Goodnight,
Adam stood, let out a small gasp then
limped slowly to the base of the stairs.
The color drained from his face as he stood there, forlorn look on his
face. The second floor of the house looked
a million miles away. Ben walked over to
Adam, placed his hand on his son’s shoulder and asked, “Are you alright
Adam? Do you want me to send for the
doctor?”
“
Ben watched his son limp up the stairs
then said, “I’ll
be up later to check on you.”
“Thanks Pa,” said Adam.
“Funny how a man’s actions sometimes come
back to haunt him,” pondered Hoss. “All
those other men he deliberately killed for the bounty, he got away with
murder. But now he shoots the wrong man
and that’s the one he ends up paying for.”
“From the distance that Joe was shot,”
said Ben, “there was no way Brody could have seen Joe’s face in detail. Brody acted impulsively. He didn’t take the time to be sure he had the
right man. He will be paying for his
impulsiveness for the rest of his life. When he pulled the trigger he sealed
his fate.”
It was getting late so
“That was a fine dinner, Ben. Hop Sing has outdone himself again,” laughed
“I’ll be sure to pass the compliment on to
him,” said Ben with a smile.
“Sorry I missed Little Joe tonight,” said
Ben sighed as he remembered how terrible
Little Joe looked when they first brought him home. “For a while there, we were worried he
wouldn’t make it,” said Ben. “I just
thank the good Lord that he had the strength to pull through. I can’t begin to imagine what life would be
like without one of my sons.”
Ben shook hands with his old friend then
he and Hoss walked
It was the last week of October. A cold biting wind swept down from the
mountains reminding everyone that winter was approaching.
“That’s right,
“That’s right, Pa,” added Hoss as
“First thing tomorrow morning we’ll start
making plans,” said Ben.
A devious smile spread across Hoss’s face. “We
better make sure we invite every purdy gal in the
territory. If Joe ain’t
feeling too good by the time his birthday gets here, all that female attention
he’s gonna get is sure to do the trick.”
Ben and Hoss laughed at the thought of
Little Joe surrounded by beautiful girls, showering him with sympathy and
attending to his every need.
“Brrrrrrrr......its
mighty cold out tonight,” said Ben, glancing up the stars. “We better get to bed. We’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”
As father and son turned to walk back
into the house, Ben paused and said, “It’s sure good
to have you and Adam back home again!”
CHAPTER 18
Wolfe Brody continued to taunt and
bedevil Sheriff Coffee. By the time the
circuit judge arrived,
Brody’s trial was swift. His defense attorney didn’t have much to go
on inasmuch as Brody confessed his deed in the saloon in front of several
witnesses. Adam, Hoss and Little Joe
were called on to testify. The final
nail in Brody’s coffin came when Little Joe identified Wolfe Brody as the man
who stood over him the afternoon he was shot. He told the jury how he had
pleaded with Brody to help him but the bounty hunter just turned away and left
him there to die.
The jury deliberated for less than an hour
then returned with a unanimous verdict of guilty. Brody was found guilty of attempted murder
and sentenced to ten years in the Nevada State Prison. When the verdict was read, Wolfe Brody
snarled like his namesake as he jumped to his feet and swore he would get
revenge on the Cartwrights. Brody suddenly lunged and grabbed the front
of Joe’s shirt with one hand, lifting Joe up onto his toes.
“This is all your
fault!” hissed Brody. “I knew I
should’ve cut your throat back there on that mountain!”
Joe clenched his jaw and stood his
ground. He squared his shoulders and
didn’t back down from Brody’s venomous stare.
Neither man blinked as they glared at one another. Joe shivered involuntarily as he gazed into
Brody’s cold black eyes. The man had no
soul.
Fearing that Brody would harm Joe, Ben
charged forward and grabbed Brody’s arm.
He twisted it viciously until Brody let go of Little Joe. In the confusion, the judge continued to
pound his gavel in an attempt to restore order to the courtroom while two
deputies tried to forcibly drag Brody back to the jail.
Brody locked eyes first with Joe then
Adam. “I’ll get both of you, Cartwrights!”
The enraged bounty hunter bucked and
thrashed against the hands that held him.
Brody screamed, “I’m going to kill both of you! I promise!”
In a protective gesture, Ben put his arm
around Joe’s shoulders, turned him away from Brody and asked, “Are you alright,
son?”
Ben could feel Joe’s body trembling
beneath his hand. “I’ll be fine
Joe shook off the oppressive feeling that
Brody’s threats had created then turned back to look at the bounty hunter one
last time. Brody was still cursing and fighting
like a wild animal, trying to free himself from the deputy’s grasp. He continued to howl death threats against the Cartwrights while two more men rushed forward to help the
deputies pry Brody’s hands free from the door frame.
“I wouldn’t trouble myself none about
that man coming back to get you and Adam,” said Hoss. “He’s gonna be
locked up for a very long time.”
Joe nodded and gave Hoss a half-hearted
grin. “Thanks Hoss. I hope they lock him up and throw away the
key.”
Ben stepped over to speak to Adam while
Joe continued to stare at the door where Brody had just disappeared. A sudden burst of pain erupted in Joe’s
shoulder as he remembered Brody’s bullet tearing into his flesh. Joe gasped, slipped his hand inside his
jacket and pressed it tightly against the bandage that was still wrapped around
his shoulder and chest. Worried about
how Brody’s threats were affecting his little brother, Hoss gently placed his
hand around Joe’s shoulders and urged him towards the bright autumn sunshine streaming
through the open courtroom door.
Ben drove Joe back to the Ponderosa in
the buggy while Hoss and Adam rode alongside.
Wolfe Brody’s threats against the Cartwrights
forgotten, Ben, Hoss, and Adam conversed excitedly among themselves about the
trial and Brody’s conviction while the youngest Cartwright withdrew into
himself. Little Joe had hardly said a
word since they left
Joe, who had been staring off into the
distance shook himself back from his reverie and replied, “No, Pa....I’m just
feeling a bit uncomfortable.”
Ben looked suspiciously at his son. He
sensed there was something else bothering Little Joe. “What is it, Joe?” asked Ben in a fatherly
voice.
Joe hesitated, trying to collect his
thoughts. “I didn’t realize how painful
it was going to be testifying at Brody’s trial....having to relive that
nightmare. My body aches with the memory
of those hours I spent on the mountain until you rescued me and brought me
home.”
Adam leaned over and rested his arm on
his saddle horn. A distant faraway look
swept over his face as Adam relived his own memories of that cold night under
the stars, holding his critically injured brother close to him. For a brief moment he was touched by a overwhelming sadness as he allowed himself to imagine what
it would be like if Joe had died that night.
With a shake of his head, Adam banished
the dismal thought from his mind.
“It’s going to take a while to heal your
mind as well as your body, son,” said Ben.
“Just remember, son, we love you and we’ll always be here for you.”
“Thanks Pa,” whispered Joe, as a tear
formed in the corner of his eye.
Ben reached over and careful not to hurt
Joe’s injured shoulder, gave his son a hug.
Joe leaned back in the seat, wiped his
eyes on his sleeve then turned to his oldest brother. “Thanks, Adam...,” said Joe.
“For what?”
“For keeping me alive
up there on Seven Mile Ridge.”
Uncomfortable with displays of emotion,
Adam squirmed in the saddle, smiled then tugged the front of his hat down over
his eyes and said, “You’re welcome, short shanks.”
“And Hoss,” continued Joe, “thanks for
finding me and bringing help back so quickly.”
Hoss beamed at Joe and just nodded.
“You’re welcome, little buddy. Now lets get home. You’re
gonna need to get your beauty rest there, little
brother. Tomorrow’s your birthday and
every purdy gal this side of the Sierras is coming to
see you!”
Joe smiled at the thought of the
Ponderosa being overrun with a profusion of pretty females. This certainly was going to be a memorable
birthday.
CHAPTER 19
The morning of Little Joe’s twenty-third
birthday dawned bright and clear.
Outside his window,
the Ponderosa was dressed in her brightest finery. Orange, yellow and red leaves danced in the
light breeze while farther up the distant snow-capped mountains sparkled
beneath a clear blue sky. Joe watched
with boyish anticipation as his family and the ranch hands transformed the
house and yard into a magical setting.
Joe’s best friend, Mitch, arrived early
and he and Joe hung around the kitchen annoying Hop Sing by sampling the food
for the party before it was ready. Joe’s
and Mitch’s laughter coming from the kitchen as Hop Sing scolded the two young
men was music to Ben’s ears.
All the Cartwright’s neighbors and
friends came to Joe’s birthday party to help him celebrate. For the Cartwright men, tonight was more than
just a birthday party, it was a celebration of
life.
Doc Martin had given Joe permission to
attend his party but he was under strict orders to not overdo it. Little Joe was perfectly happy to sit in his
father’s leather armchair by the fireplace while every young, eligible female
on the Comstock pampered and showered him with sympathy.
Hop Sing outdid himself on the buffet and
Little Joe’s birthday cake. Everyone
cheered as Little Joe blew out all twenty-three candles on the first try.
Between dancing and socializing with the
guests, father and sons stood by and watched Joe work his boyish charm on the
girls. Joe’s harem of females hung on
his every word as he re-told the tale (loaded with embellishment) of how he was
hurt and how he brought Wolfe Brody to justice.
Adam shook his head and laughed as he eaves-dropped on his brother’s
tall tale. Adam didn’t mind that Joe
left out the major role that he and Hoss had played in the drama. Tonight was Joe’s special night. As far as Adam was concerned, Joe could do
anything he wanted.
Ben, Hoss, and Adam knew darn well that
Joe was not going to behave himself so they took turns watching him. Hoss was briefly distracted by a flirtatious
gal by the name of Becky when it was his turn to watch Little Joe. While he was making calf eyes at the fair
Becky, Joe took
the opportunity to sneak away with a pretty curly haired brunette named Marian
for a little sparking behind the barn.
Leaning on her shoulder for support, Joe and Marian only made it as far
as the front porch. Joe’s luck had run
out for coming toward him was big brother, Adam.
“And just where do you think you’re
going, Romeo?” asked Adam, a sparkle and a knowing look in his eye.
Marian blushed, clapped a hand over her
mouth to stifle a giggle, and pretended to fuss with some of the intricate
beadwork on her lavender gown.
Little Joe’s voice squeaked as he
stuttered out some lame excuse about needing some fresh air while Adam stood
there with his arms crossed over his chest, not believing a word that Joe said.
Adam knew from experience exactly where
his little brother was headed with Marian.
Joe had a favorite spot a few yards behind the barn that was concealed
by a thick curtain of pine trees.
Numerous times, Adam had caught the youngest Cartwright back there
kissing and sweet talking the latest gal who had caught his eye.
Adam gently took hold of Joe by the
shoulders and turned him around to face the house. “Back into the house
now....both of you!”
“Awwww.......Adam,”
protested Joe.
Marian smiled coyly at Little Joe then
took his hand and slowly helped him back into the house.
Undaunted, the birthday boy continued
throughout the night with his mischievous antics. Several times Ben caught Joe out on the dance
floor with one pretty gal or another, holding her close and trying his best to
steady himself with his crutch. Each
time he was caught, he would be scolded and escorted back to his chair. The moment Ben turned his back to talk to
another guest, Joe would hobble back out to dance with
another pretty gal. Often aided by
Mitch, Joe’s game of “catch-me-if-you-can” continued throughout the night until
Hoss threatened to sit on him if he didn’t stay put.
The music, laughing and celebrating
continued well into the night and by the time Joe bid his last guest goodnight,
he was more than willing to be carried upstairs and helped into bed.
Before retiring for the night, Ben
wandered outside to get a breath of fresh air and look at the stars. Sometime during the evening, a light layer of
snow clouds had crept in unannounced.
Ben smiled up at the heavens and thanked the Lord for giving him back
his son. A few snow crystals fell from
the sky reminding Ben that the hardest months of the year were just
beginning. Although the promise of a
long hard winter lay before them, Ben didn’t really mind. All that mattered to him was that all his
sons were with him and that Little Joe’s laughter would continue to be heard on
the Ponderosa.
The End
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