Learning Curve
By Rona
Riding drag had to be the worst position of the whole round up, reflected
Joe Cartwright, as another cloud of dust found its way under his bandanna,
and into his mouth. His eyes stung and watered, and the green of his jacket
was slowly but surely being obliterated by the dust coating every inch of
him. The ground was as hard as a bone; there hadn’t been any rain in almost
a month. The pastures were quickly being exhausted, and they were once more
having to move the herd to fresh grazing.
One steer, more ornery than the rest, made a break for freedom once again.
Joe was sick of this particular animal. It was quite distinctive, as one horn
was twisted in a peculiar way. This was at least the fourth time Joe had
had to chivvy it back into the herd, and he was beginning to be a bit short
tempered about the whole thing. Urging Cochise out, he headed after the steer.
As he snapped his quirt in front of the beast’s nose, he heard a whoop from
behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, Joe was astounded to see about a dozen
Indian braves coming racing down the hill towards the herd. He dropped the
quirt, and drew his gun, firing a warning shot into the air.
Further along the heaving mass of cattle, Adam and Hoss heard the shot and
turned. Immediately, they, too, drew their guns, and headed back in Joe’s
direction. The hands, seeing the braves, and hearing the rumpus, started to
move to protect the herd and their bosses.
Still whooping, the braves began to loose off arrows. They weren’t really
aiming at anyone; they were just trying to keep everyone back. Joe ducked
as an arrow sang over his head. He fired again, but missed the brave he’d
been aiming at. The herd were getting uneasy, and Cochise sidled about anxiously.
A few of the braves had singled out the steer Joe was trying to head off,
and rode at Joe without hesitating. Reluctantly, Joe shot at them. One of
the braves tumbled to the ground, blood pouring from his shoulder. By now,
Adam and Hoss were galloping towards Joe, shooting at the Indians, although
they had little chance of hitting them at that speed.
Seeing, the reinforcements, the braves abruptly decided to back off. A few
more arrows sailed through the air. Joe felt the tug of one on his right sleeve,
but he paid no heed. He put his heels to Cochise, and galloped after them.
There was something funny about these Indians, and Joe wanted to find out
what it was.
“Joe! Come back!” Adam shouted, but it was no use. Joe didn’t hear him over
the uneasy lowing of the herd. “Hoss, I’m going after Joe,” Adam said.
“I’m comin’, too,” Hoss declared, and Adam didn’t bother to argue. He simply
nodded, and waved to the nearest hand. “Fred, keep ‘em moving,” he ordered,
and they set off up the hill after Joe.
Galloping after the departing Indians, Joe saw them disappear among the
trees about half a mile away. There was quite a broad track there, well used
by the Ponderosa hands when travelling between one pasture and another. Joe
put his heel to Cochise again.
Next moment, something hit Joe across the chest, and he was swept backwards
out of the saddle. He landed with a crash on the road, and his head thumped
cruelly off the rock hard ground. He was unconscious before he knew what had
hit him. Cochise ran on a few yards more, then came to a stop, hopping lame.
The braves might not have had much idea about rustling, but they knew how
to stop pursuit. The braves who had pulled the rope across the road dropped
it, jumped onto their ponies and fled after their brothers.
Cresting the hill, the first thing Adam and Hoss saw was Cochise. Joe was
sprawled on the road, and Adam hauled Sport to a stop, and jumped off. Hoss
wasn’t far behind. As Adam knelt by Joe, Hoss caught the pinto, and examined
him.
“How’s Joe?” Hoss asked, looking over Adam’s shoulder.
“Out cold,” Adam replied. “And look. Did you see this before?” He pointed
to Joe’s right arm, where the shaft of an arrow protruded. It had obviously
been broken in the fall, as the other bit of the shaft lay close by.
“Dadburnit, no I didn’t,” Hoss declared. “Is it serious?”
“I don’t think so,” Adam responded. “Get me a canteen, and I’ll see if I
can rouse him.” He doused his bandanna in the water, and wiped Joe’s dusty
face. After a moment or so, Joe groaned. Adam trickled a little water into
Joe’s mouth, and he swallowed. Shortly after, his eyes flickered open, and
he looked dazedly at his brothers.
“What hit me?” he murmured. He moved and winced, and his left hand crept
up to gingerly touch the back of his head. “Oh, my head!”
“Can you sit up?” asked Adam. He slid his arm under Joe’s shoulders, being
careful to avoid the arrow. He gently eased his brother to a sitting position.
He supported Joe while he looked at his head, and told him what had happened.
“It’s bleeding,” he announced, “but it doesn’t look too bad. Can you ride?”
“The pinto’s lame,” Hoss said, quietly. “That rope must’ve caught him, too,
and he’s sprained his fetlock. Ain’t no way he’s gonna carry Joe home.”
“I’m all right,” Joe protested, weakly. He actually felt ghastly. His whole
body ached from the force of his fall. “Just help me up.” He started to extend
his right arm to Hoss, but let out a cry of pain. “My arm!” He looked blankly
at the arrow. “When did that happen?” he wondered. He thought back, and remembered
the tug on his clothes. He hadn’t felt any pain.
“I’ll take him back double on my horse,” decided Adam. “Hoss, you go back
and take charge of the herd, and send someone for the doctor. Give me a hand.”
Between them, they got Joe onto Adam’s horse, and Adam mounted behind him,
taking the pinto’s reins. They set off slowly for home, and Hoss headed back
to the herd.
**************
It was a few hours before Hoss arrived back at the ranch. He dismounted
wearily, and put his horse away. Cochise was resting fairly comfortably,
he noticed, and someone had put a poultice on the injured limb. He gave the
pinto some extra hay, and a scratch behind the ears, and then went inside.
The table was laid for supper, but there was no one in the main room. That
didn’t come as a surprise. Hoss went upstairs, and stuck his head into Joe’s
room. Ben was sitting by Joe’s bed. Adam was nowhere in sight. Joe had a bandage
around his head, and another one on his arm. He appeared to be sleeping. “Pa,”
Hoss whispered.
Glancing up, Ben smiled at Hoss, and rose. He looked back at Joe once more
before joining Hoss in the hallway. “Good to see you, son,” he said, warmly.
“Is the herd all settled?”
“Sure enough, Pa,” Hoss said. “How’s Joe? What did the doc say?”
“He’ll be all right,” Ben said, glancing back at the room, although he couldn’t
see Joe from where he stood. “He has a concussion, and the doc took a couple
of stitches in his head. The arrow wasn’t in deep. He was lucky.”
“Where’s Adam?” enquired Hoss.
“Here,” came Adam’s voice from behind him, and Adam emerged from his room,
newly bathed and changed.
“You see to Little Joe’s pony?” the middle brother asked, and wasn’t surprised
to get an answering nod. “I’ll go get cleaned up. When’s supper gonna be ready?
I’m getting’ plumb puny waitin’ for it.”
“Soon as you’re ready,” Ben answered, with a laugh. He stuck his head round
Joe’s door again, but his youngest son slept on peacefully.
************
After supper, Hoss looked in on Joe, and found him awake. It was clear to
Hoss that Joe’s head hurt, but he made no reference to it. After assuring
Hoss, unasked, he was fine, Joe said, “There was something odd about those
Indians, this afternoon.”
“Odd?” repeated Hoss. “How’d you mean?”
Screwing up his face, Joe shrugged. “I don’t know, exactly,” he admitted.
“But no Indian in his right mind would try to rustle a single steer from a
herd that was being pushed by a bunch of cowboys. They’d come along and take
it at night.” Joe closed his eyes and thought back to the fleeting glimpses
he’d had of the braves. “And there was something wrong with their paint, too.
I just don’t know what.”
“I didn’t see them closely enough to notice,” Hoss said. “But I guess
you’re right there, little brother. I hadn’t thought of that before. Wonder
if Adam noticed?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Joe asked, sleepily. He had been kept awake for
quite a while when the doc was treating him, and his injuries were catching
up with him rapidly. “You can ask him, and tell me tomorrow.”
“Good night, Shortshanks,” Hoss said, taking the hint. He shut the door
quietly behind him, and went back downstairs. He repeated to Adam and Ben
what Joe had said about the Indians.
Shrugging and making a small moue, Adam said, “I didn’t notice, either.
But then, we were a lot further away from them than Joe. I was surprised
that they tried to rustle a cow while we were there, but they looked young.
Perhaps they are young warriors out on their first hunt or something.”
“I hope that this drought doesn’t mean the Indian are having a hard time
of it,” Ben said, thoughtfully. “Perhaps we ought to find out if there’s been
any other trouble round about lately. You haven’t heard anything when you’ve
been in town?”
“Nothin’,” Hoss offered.
“Nor me,” agreed Adam. “But the drought is only really beginning to bite
now. Perhaps any trouble has only begun in the last few days. None of us has
been in town this week.”
“Is the fire watch still on?” Ben asked. The hills were tinder dry, and
the least spark from could set off a conflagration that would burn the whole
ranch. They couldn’t afford for that to happen.
“Yep, still on,” said Hoss. “Reckon I’m gonna turn in. I’m a mite tired.”
“I won’t be far behind you,” Adam said, smiling.
“Nor me,” agreed Ben. “It’s been a long day.”
**************
When the family gathered for supper the next evening, Adam and Hoss did
most of the talking. Joe was there, but he was still pale and wan looking,
and he picked listlessly at his food. The heat was incredible. All the windows
in the house stood open, but there wasn’t a breath of air.
“Nate Jenkins said a bunch of Indians tried to run off one of his prize
bulls. The bull had other ideas, and they left in a hurry when Nate turned
the dogs loose.” Adam took a bite of his meal, and Hoss took up the tale.
“Mizz Johnstone says Abe woke up the other night and saw a bunch on Injuns
in the corral. They didn’t manage to get any of their cattle, but they took
a ham and a side of beef that had been fresh butchered that day.” Hoss settled
back down to the important business of the day – eating.
“It’s the same story all over,” Adam concluded. “They make a raid, but botch
it totally. The only thing they’ve managed to get away with was a ham and
a side of beef. Nate says they weren’t very young. Not braves out on their
first hunt, not that young. He says they looked to be about Joe’s age. And,
like Joe, says there was something funny about their paint. It just didn’t
seem right.”
“Well, this is a mystery,” Ben commented. He glanced once more at Joe, and
stifled the comment he was about to make. Apart from Hoss, who seldom suffered
a loss of appetite, the heat was making them all feel less like eating. “Keep
your eyes open, boys. These Indians might be inept right now, but who knows
when they might start to improve, and I don’t want to lose any of our head
before we take them to market.”
“Right,” Adam agreed, and also looked at Joe. “Feel all right, buddy?” he
asked. Joe’s shirt was untucked, a sure sign that he wasn’t feeling 100%.
“Yeah,” Joe responded. “I was just thinking about those Indians. That trick
with the rope across the road. That’s more a white man’s thing, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I think you’re probably right,” Ben said, slowly. “But they could
have picked up the idea anywhere.”
“I guess,” agreed Joe. He laid down his fork. “If you’ll excuse me, I think
I’ll go to bed.”
The rest of his family watched as he made his weary way to the stairs. They
all sympathised. It was bad enough to be unwell, without having to suffer
thorough heat like this. They each silently hoped that tomorrow would bring
rain.
*************
The drought continued unabated. Each day, the sun shone out of an arc of
pure blue. The sky seemed to be bleached to almost colourless along the tops
of the mountains. The grass shrivelled and went brown. The watering holes
dried up. The streams were barely more than trickles. Even the mighty Lake
Tahoe began to go down. No one moved faster than they had to. People began
to die as they drank stagnant water from almost dry ponds. There were many
cases of sunstroke.
But life had to go on. On the Ponderosa, chores still had to be done. Hay
had to be cut and hauled, and it was a bumper crop this year. Horses had to
be shod; fences had to be mended. The grazing for the herd had to be checked
regularly. And through all the usual chores, a fire watch was maintained.
The Indian raids continued, and they were still just as ineffective. The
odd chicken went missing, and sometimes a pre-butchered ham or side of beef
was taken, but generally, the Indians didn’t seem to know what they were doing.
Life was too tough, right then, for anyone to begrudge the Indians a few
chickens. Everyone was battling for survival.
As he drove the buckboard slowly into town to collect some supplies, Joe
found himself thinking about the newspaper reports he had read the other day,
which reported that the South was suffering from excessive amounts of rain.
He fervently hoped that some of that rain would come their way soon. The
sun was beating down on his bare forearms, and he thought sympathetically
of one of the men who had a very bad sunburn. Joe had never been as darkly
tanned as he was that year.
The town was as busy as usual, but the people moved more slowly. Joe placed
the order at the general store, and went across to the saloon for a beer.
To his surprise, there wasn’t any beer. “Not enough water to make beer,” Sam,
the bartender complained. “All we’ve got is whisky!”
“I think I’ll pass on that,” Joe said, making a face. “Say, Sam, anyone
been in here talking about those Indians lately?”
“Now, someone did mention seeing them off in the distance, Joe, but I don’t
recall who it was.” Sam screwed up his face in thought. “Might have been old
Griggs. You know, the old trapper who comes about once in a while. Might have
been him.”
“I just wondered,” Joe replied. He still found himself puzzling over the
attacks. “Well, see you around, Sam.”
“Bye, Joe,” Sam replied, and went back to polishing the glasses. Business
was slow.
The supplies were ready, and Joe and the storekeeper loaded them onto the
wagon together, and then Joe climbed onto the seat, and headed for home. It
was going to be a long journey, especially as he had to keep the horses to
a walk.
The team didn’t really need a lot of driving; they knew where they were
headed. Joe was almost drowsing as they plodded on. He stopped them for a
rest a couple of times, and even managed to find a stream with just enough
water to give the team a drink. So when the attack came, he was caught unawares.
The Indians rose up out of the bushes at the roadside, and grabbed the team’s
bridles. Joe fumbled for his gun, but a sharp blow on his forearm numbed his
fingers, and his gun clattered to the road. Undaunted, Joe resorted to his
other weapon – his fists. He began to throw punches at the nearest brave,
as the others started to loot the supplies on the wagon.
It was hopeless; Joe knew that. But he couldn’t let the supplies go without
a fight. Outnumbered, Joe soon found himself in the strong grip of a couple
of braves, while another punched him repeatedly. Even as he fought, Joe was
aware that there was something odd about this attack. The braves’ paint didn’t
look right. And he’d seldom met an Indian who fought with his fists, and not
a knife! But he had no time to think it through. A final blow to the head
sent Joe’s wits flying, and he fell to the ground, dazed. He was unable to
resist as the Indians bound him hand and foot, and then left, taking the wagon
with them.
It was sometime before Joe revived enough to begin to struggle, and he realised
very quickly that he had no chance of getting loose. This was one attack that
the Indians hadn’t botched. As the afternoon wore on into evening, Joe lay
by the roadside, and suffered. His mouth was horribly dry, and his hat had
got lost sometime in the melee. The sun beat down on his unprotected head
mercilessly. He ached all over from the beating he had taken. “Oh, Pa, find
me,” he whispered, before drifting off into unconsciousness.
***********
“Shouldn’t Joe be back by now?” Ben asked, as Adam and Hoss came in.
“He isn’t here?” Adam said, needlessly. “But he left this morning. Even
if he went into the saloon, he should have been back long ago.”
They looked at each other, concern etched on their faces. “I think we ought
to go look for him, Pa,” Hoss said. “I’d sooner he was angry with us for treatin’
him like a baby, than find out somethin’ had happened to him.”
“Saddle the horses,” Ben said, and he began to buckle on his gun belt.
*************
The sun was well down, but the heat was just as intense. A very faint breeze
rose off the water of Lake Tahoe, but it just made the anxious men feel even
hotter than before. They had gone more than half way to town before Hoss shouted,
“There!” and pointed.
Almost invisible by the side of the road, Joe lay unmoving. His eyes were
closed, and bruises marked his face. His shirt was ripped. Ben threw himself
from his horse, and knelt by his youngest son. He saw the sweat beading on
Joe’s forehead. “Joe!” he exclaimed, and set about freeing him from his bonds.
The blood on Joe’s wrists gave mute testament to his struggles to free himself.
Ben took the canteen Hoss offered him, and poured some water onto Joe’s face.
After a moment, Joe groaned. Ben lifted his head, and trickled a little of
the precious liquid into Joe’s mouth. Joe choked, and opened his eyes. “Pa?”
he whispered, his voice little more than a breath.
“Take it easy, son,” Ben said, offering him a little more water. Joe swallowed
it eagerly, but Ben wouldn’t allow him to drink too much too soon, knowing
that it would make Joe sick. He could feel the heat coming from Joe. He gestured
to Hoss to soak a bandanna, and bathed Joe’s sweaty face with it. “Let’s get
you home,” he said.
It was only after Joe was home that they were able to ask him what had happened.
Joe told them as best he could. His head throbbed, and he couldn’t seem to
get enough water. He was soaked in sweat, and his speech wasn’t entirely coherent.
Ben, as he helped Joe out of his dusty, torn clothes, noticed that his son
had sunburn on the back of his neck, and concluded that Joe had sunstroke.
“Bring me some cool water,” he instructed Adam, and his oldest son hurried
to do his bidding.
After about an hour of being wiped down with cool cloths, and getting small
drinks of water, Joe’s temperature was back to normal, and he was sleeping.
Ben hadn’t pressed him to tell them any more about what had happened to him.
Time for that when Joe was feeling better again. He checked the window was
open before he left Joe alone for the night.
Downstairs, Adam and Hoss were sitting listlessly by the empty fireplace.
They looked up at Ben as he came down. “The supplies are gone,” Adam reported.
“If it was those Indians, they managed to get this raid right. They must be
learning.”
“We’ll find out for sure from Joe in the morning,” Ben said. “He was pretty
badly beaten. He’s going to be sore for quite a few days.”
“It ain’t like Injuns to beat people,” Hoss commented. “They’s much more
likely to shoot an arrow through ya, or knife ya in a close fight.”
“Then Joe was lucky,” Adam commented, throwing Hoss a black look. Ben didn’t
need reminding. “Tomorrow, we’ll go and look for the wagon,” he went on.
“Yes, all right,” Ben agreed. “But stay together. I don’t want any more
of my sons getting injured.”
*************
The next morning, they woke to clear skies, and high temperatures again.
Joe was still slightly feverish, but he was lucid again, and was able to tell
his story. Like his brothers, he was surprised that the Indians hadn’t knifed
him. Again, he mentioned the war paint looking wrong.
“Their clothing was completely plain, like the Sioux, but they didn’t look
like Sioux,” Joe said.
“If they had been Sioux, you’d be dead,” commented Adam, dryly. “Piautes?
Shoshone?”
“I don’t think so,” Joe said, frowning. He ached all over, and his headache
still lingered. He moved slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position.
But the movement just set up a protesting chorus from a different set of bruises.
He winced. “I wish I could put my finger on what it is, but I can’t.”
“It might be worth having a word with Winnemucca,” Ben said. “Perhaps he
might know something.”
“The Piautes are away down south,” Hoss said. “I saw Winnemucca a few weeks
ago, and he told me he was heading down south till the weather broke. Said
this weather is bad for fires.”
“Let’s hope he’s wrong,” said Adam.
“Well, it was a thought,” Ben commented. “If you two are going to look for
the wagon, then for pity’s sake, don’t ride in the midday sun. Rest up then,
and be careful.”
“We will, Pa,” they promised, and after giving Joe a smile, they left.
“Can I get you anything, son?” Ben asked, as his older sons left.
“A cool breeze?” joked Joe, and a smile crossed his bruised and battered
face.
“If I had one, I think I might keep it for myself,” Ben teased. He hated
to see Joe in such discomfort, but the youth’s humour was a good sign. “I’ll
leave the door open. If you want anything, just shout.”
“Thanks, Pa.” Joe momentarily looked troubled, and Ben sat down again.
“What is it? Come on, out with it, Joe.”
“I’m sorry, Pa,” Joe said, wretchedly. “All the supplies gone. You’ll have
to get more, and someone will have to go for them. I’m sorry I was so careless.”
“I can replace supplies easily,” Ben said, stroking Joe’s hair. “But I can’t
replace any of my sons!”
Those wonderful green eyes of Joe’s were always a mirror for his soul. They
blazed with sudden light, and the smile he gave Ben was blinding. “Thanks,
Pa,” he said.
*************
About two hours later, Ben heard the rumble of wagon wheels in the yard,
and got up from the desk to go and look. Sure enough, it was Adam and Hoss,
and they had both the wagon and the team. Ben went out into the yard
to greet them, and saw that some of the supplies, at least, were still in
the wagon. “Where did you find it?” Ben asked.
“Up off the road a bit from where we found Joe,” Adam answered. “Three or
four miles on. The team were hitched loosely to a tree, and had access to
a little water. They look as though they were well taken care of.”
“Well, let’s get the supplies unloaded, and then we can see what we need
to replace,” Ben said. His mind wasn’t really on the supplies; it was on the
inconsistencies they kept meeting when these Indians appeared. No Indian would
leave supplies in a wagon they had captured, nor would they leave the horses.
They would keep any animals they came across. It didn’t make sense.
Later that afternoon, Hoss and Adam rode into town to get the supplies they
still needed, and to tell Sheriff Roy Coffee about the attack on Joe. He promised
to keep an eye out for the Indians, but with the ground so hard, it was impossible
to track them very far. Frustrated, but understanding Roy’s problem, the
Cartwrights left for home, and this time got there unmolested.
*************
After a few days, Joe was up and about again, although still black and blue.
He reluctantly accepted his father’s stricture about staying in the house,
but he was restless, and chafed against the restriction. Ben was out supervising
the last of the haymaking, along with Adam and Hoss. Hop Sing was busy in
the steamy kitchen, and Joe was bored. He wasn’t in the mood for reading,
and he wandered in and out of the kitchen until Hop Sing was ready to do ‘number
three son’ serious amounts of injury.
Taking the hint, Joe wandered outside. It was just as hot as ever. He glanced
up at the sky, and wondered when it would rain again. Another few weeks of
this, and they would be in real trouble! From somewhere drifted the elusive
scent of smoke. For a moment, Joe’s nose didn’t register what it was smelling,
but there was a tiny movement of air, and the scent of smoke was back in his
nostrils.
Smoke! It was what they had all been dreading. A forest fire in weather
like this would be a disaster. There was no time to lose. Joe headed into
the stable and hefted his saddle onto Cochise. It was an effort, but he barely
noticed the strain. He had to get word to someone about the fire, and they
had to track it down before the whole ranch burned to the ground!
As Joe rode out of the yard, Hop Sing appeared from the kitchen, and promptly
started screeching in Chinese. Joe understood a little of the language, but
he hadn’t the time to listen now. He kicked Cochise into a canter. A little
further down the trail, Joe met Fred, who was riding back towards the ranch.
“Fred! Quick, tell Pa and the others. There’s a fire somewhere! I can smell
the smoke!”
Without waiting for a reply, Joe kicked on, following some in-built instinct.
Fred shouted, “Joe! Come back here!” But Joe ignored him. Cursing, Fred turned
his horse and set off for the hayfields at a gallop.
Pulling Cochise to a halt, Joe sniffed the air again. His pinto pawed nervously
beneath him, and Joe absent-mindedly soothed his hand down the sleek, sweating
neck. The hint of wood smoke drifted his way again, and Joe pinpointed it
now. It was coming from a stand of trees near the lake. He rode on, clutching
his ribs, which were aching from the strain.
The fire was still fairly small, which was amazing under the circumstances.
Joe dragged his bedroll off the back of the saddle, and ran towards the flames.
As he got closer, he could see that someone had dug a fire pit for a camp,
but hadn’t made a good enough job of it, and the fire had escaped. Joe began
to wield the blanket energetically against the flames. He hoped help would
arrive before the fire got any worse.
Fire is a tricky thing. Just as you think you’ve got it under control, it
turns on you. Joe straightened, coughing, and glanced back the way he had
come. To his horror, the fire had circled round behind him, and he was trapped!
The heat was intense, and Joe could almost feel it dancing along his skin.
Frantically, he beat at the flames, knowing he had to keep going if he was
to have any chance of surviving the conflagration.
Vaguely, over the roar of the fire, he heard shouting, but he had no time
to look and see who it was. The smoke was in his chest, and breathing was
difficult. With each passing moment, Joe’s movements became weaker and weaker.
Suddenly, there was a crash from above, and Joe barely managed to dodge a
flaming limb as it crashed to earth. A spark jumped onto his shirt, and suddenly,
his clothes were alight.
Yelling in shock, Joe dropped to the ground and rolled, as he had been taught.
Then there was a body there, another person, and he bodily lifted Joe, slung
him over his shoulder, and jumped through the barrier of flames. Joe’s shirt
was still alight, and he was yelling incoherently. Then he was falling, and
the cool water of the lake closed over his head. Joe inhaled a mouthful, but
the relief was immediate.
As he came, spluttering, to the surface, he realised that his rescuer was
Adam, who was also wet through. Adam pulled him roughly to his feet, and propelled
him to the shore. Joe could barely move, he was so stiff and tired, but he
sloshed his way to dry ground, and flopped down to rest. Adam dropped beside
him.
Coughing, Joe watched as Ben and the hands fought the fire. For a time,
it seemed as though the flames would win, but gradually, they were beaten
back, until there was only a patch of burnt forest. The Ponderosa was safe!
Everyone was blackened with smoke, and coughing heavily. Ben dropped to
his knees by Joe and Adam, exhausted. “Are you both all right?” he
asked, worriedly. “Are you burned?”
“I don’t think so, Pa,” Adam answered. He looked at Joe. His younger brother’s
shirt was burned away in places, but the skin underneath, although a touch
red, wasn’t blistered. Adam had arrived in the nick of time!
“Are you sure?” Ben asked, and looked more closely for himself, pulling
the remnants of Joe’s shirt away. “Joe, thank goodness you smelt the smoke!
But why did you try and fight the fire yourself? Why didn’t you get help?”
“I sent Fred,” Joe protested. His voice was hoarse from the smoke. “I couldn’t
not do anything, Pa! The whole ranch might have been lost!”
“You’re on the sick list,” Ben pointed out, acidly. “You could have been
badly hurt, Joe! How do you feel?”
“Tired, “ Joe said, and smiled. “I’m okay, Pa.”
“Let’s get home,” Ben said, rising. He put a hand down to help Joe to his
feet, and Adam did the same. As he began to get up, Joe realised that his
aggrieved muscles were even more painful than they had been. He tired to hide
his wince of pain, but Ben had eyes like a hawk, and he looked sharply at
Joe’s face. “All right?” he asked. “Can you ride?”
“I can ride,” Joe answered. Nothing short of death would make him admit
that he didn’t feel up to it. He shivered slightly, and Ben frowned. Adam
was shivering, too. After a moment, Ben realised that there was quite a sharp
little breeze blowing in from the lake. Looking over to the mountains on the
far side of the water, Ben saw clouds in the sky for the first time in 6
weeks. Finally, there was rain on the way.
**************
The rain arrived that night, battering off the hard ground. The temperature
dropped abruptly, and that night in the Ponderosa, there was a fire lit. Adam
and Joe had both had a bath and a nap, and were up and about again. Joe was
obviously very stiff. His muscles hadn’t recovered from the pounding they’d
had from the Indians, and he had aggravated them when he fought the fire.
Ben was still exasperated by his youngest son’s behaviour, but had to admit
that if Joe hadn’t begun to fight the fire, the whole ranch could have gone
up In flames.
Watching the flames dancing in the hearth, Ben thought back to the moment
they had arrived at the fire, and seen Joe falling to the ground, his shirt
alight. Ben’s heart had been in his mouth, but Adam hadn’t hesitated. He had
jumped from Sport, and leapt right over the flames, scooped Joe up and charged
for the lake. By the time he had got Joe to the water, Ben was organising
the hands into fighting the flames. He realised that both his sons were at
least mostly all right, and he could fuss over them later, once the danger
was passed. But the picture of his sons trapped by that ring of fire was one
that would haunt his dreams for many a night.
With a start, he realised that he had almost fallen asleep, gazing into
the tamer flames of the fireplace. He looked at his sons, and saw they were
all sleepy, too. Even though it was still early, they had had a long day.
“Let’s get to bed, boys,” he suggested, and they all stirred, stretching
the kinks out of their abused muscles. “Need a hand, son?” he asked Joe,
who was sliding his butt towards the edge of the settee in preparation for
getting up.
“Thanks, Pa,” he said, gratefully, for once not too proud to accept the
help he needed. As he straightened up, he looked across at Adam. “Adam, I
never thanked you earlier for saving my life. I would’ve died if you hadn’t
come when you did.”
“Well, I’d have hated Pa to be upset,” Adam joked, not sure how to respond.
He didn’t want to dredge up the whole scene again. “And I don’t mind having
you around, sometimes.”
Not deceived by the kidding, Joe’s face remained sober. “Thanks anyway.”
“Come on, kid, let’s get you to bed,” Adam said, and for once, Joe didn’t
protest at being called a kid.
*******************
It rained steadily over the next few days. The ground was initially so hard,
that the rain sat in great pools on the land. Gradually, it seeped its way
into the earth, and the land began to turn green again. However, the rain
kept coming, and it wasn’t long before all the rivers and streams were back
to their full flow, and then, as the rain still continued with scarcely a
break, they began to reach overflowing.
“I never saw such contrary weather,” Joe moaned one morning. It had been
quite bright when they left the house, but the rain had blown in suddenly
in mid-morning, and the brothers were soaked to the skin in a matter of minutes.
The only consolation was that the hay had been gathered in early, and they
weren’t trying to dry it in the wrong kind of conditions. However, roundup
was due to start shortly, and although eating dust wasn’t wonderful, eating
mud was even worse. “One minute we have no water, the next we have too much!”
He turned up the collar of his blue jacket, but it didn’t stop the rain from
running down his neck!
“Quit belly-aching and just get on with it,” Adam replied, grumpily. He
was as miserable as Joe, but the fences still needed mending, and the sooner
they got done, the sooner they could get home and dried off.
The deluge lessened and finally stopped, and Joe and Adam got the fence
repaired, and headed for home. “Have there been any more reports about those
Indians?” Joe asked, as they rode back. They weren’t in any hurry. Wet pants
on wet saddles at any kind of speed could mean a fall.
“No,” Adam responded. “They must have moved on. Or else they got washed
out. But who’s had time to look for them?”
“Good point,” conceded Joe, and they jogged on in silence. But his mind
was still on the mysteries of the summer. Adam was unaware of Joe’s silence.
He was concentrating on not sliding off his saddle. He urged Sport to a slightly
faster pace, but the ground was saturated and the horse’s hooves made sucking
noises as it plucked them out of the mud. After a few steps, Sport slowed
down, and Adam respected his mount’s decision.
“D’you suppose Winnemucca knows about these new Indians?” Joe asked, calling
ahead over the few yards that separated them.
“I have no idea,” Adam answered, shortly. “Drop it, Joe! They haven’t been
seen since the rains began. Let’s just leave it at that!”
“Well, pardon me for breathing,” returned Joe. “Who rattled your cage? No,
scratch that, I know it was me! I was trying to make conversation, that’s
all!”
Irked by Joe’s tone, and annoyed with his own shortness of temper, Adam
did what he frequently accused Joe of doing – acting without thinking. “Then
choose an interesting topic! You’ve harped on about those Indians since you
managed to get yourself shot by one of them!”
“Well, you can be sure I won’t bore you any further!” Joe exclaimed. He
was furious with Adam’s comments.
“Oh, hang it all, Joe,” Adam began, but a sudden tremor of the earth beneath
his horse’s hooves cut him short. It only lasted an instant, but both horses
began to panic.
“Whoa, now. Whoa!” Both men soothed their hands, but the horses sidled and
half-reared. The wet ground beneath their feet churned into soupy mud.
“Let’s get out of here!” Joe said, the quarrel forgotten. “This whole slope
is loose!”
But it was too late. This latest deluge of rain had loosened the soil, and
Sport’s few steps in canter had knocked loose a stone. That one tiny thing
was enough to start the whole slope going, and there was nothing Joe or Adam
could do. With a roar, the ground gave way, and men and horses fell down the
slope in a flurry of arms and legs.
**************
Coming into the house, Hoss shed raindrops along with his slicker. Unlike
his brothers, he’d learned not to trust the weather, and had taken his slicker
with him. It had kept most of him dry, but there was still a tidemark of wet
halfway up his thighs.
“Hoss!” Ben protested, as a drop or two hit him.
“Sorry, Pa,” Hoss said, contritely. He rolled up his gun belt and put it
on the credenza. “I sure thought Adam an’ Little Joe woulda in home by now.
That fence didn’t need that much repair, did it?”
“I didn’t think so,” answered Ben. He frowned. “Neither of them had their
slickers. They’ll be soaked to the skin.”
“I don’t guess they’ll shrink none,” joked Hoss, heavily. “At least they’ll
be clean!”
Laughing, Ben clapped Hoss affectionately on the shoulder. “Go put on some
dry clothes, son. Supper won’t be long.”
Supper was soon on the table, and Adam and Joe hadn’t arrived. Neither Ben
nor Hoss had much appetite and they soon admitted how concerned they were.
“What should we do, Pa?” asked Hoss, standing aimlessly in front of the fireplace.
“We’re going to have to look for them,” Ben responded. He walked to the
door, and reached for his gun.
There was a sound at the door, and it opened to reveal Adam, caked in mud,
his clothes torn. There was a gash along his head, and he cradled his right
arm. “Adam!” Ben exclaimed in horror, and caught his oldest son about the
waist as his legs gave out.
“Landslide,” Adam said, obviously exhausted. “Joe… is… missing.” Safe home,
his duty done, Adam collapsed into his father’s arms.
**************
There was pandemonium for quite a while at the Ponderosa. Doc Martin was
summoned. Hoss went out in the yard and found Sport and Cochise. They were
both covered in mud and scratches, and were dreadfully lame. He tended to
them while Ben gently washed the mud off Adam.
While Doc Martin set Adam’s broken arm, and bandaged the gash on his head,
Hoss paced the great room, consumed with worry about both his brothers. He
had sent out some hands to look for Joe, but there had been no reports back
from them yet. As soon as Ben told him Adam would be all right, Hoss headed
out to look for Joe.
The landslide had been easy to find, but a thorough search failed to turn
up any sign of the youngest Cartwright. The light faded away, until Hoss was
finally forced to go home, empty handed.
Half soaked, and worn out, Hoss miserably confessed to Ben that Joe was
still missing. The hands had had no luck, even though they had been digging
through the mud with shovels. “He might be dead,” concluded Hoss, flatly.
Wordlessly, Ben stared into the flames. Over the summer, Joe had been in
one scrape after another, but Ben hadn’t really feared for his life through
any of them. Now, he did. He had faced landslips before, and knew that it
was quite conceivable that Joe’s body might never be found. Deep within, he
suspected that he would never be able to accept Joe’s death without seeing
the body. He would always be hoping that Joe was alive somewhere, and that
hope would eventually destroy him and his sons.
“We’ll look again tomorrow,” he said, starkly. “I’ll go and sit with Adam.”
***************
Slowly, Joe fought his way up from the dream that had held him captive.
He dreamt that he and Adam were falling, and Adam’s voice was calling out
his name. Then Adam’s voice disappeared, and Joe bolted upright. “ADAM!”
he screamed.
For a moment, his eyes saw nothing, then adjusted to a different darkness,
and an Indian tepee swam into focus. Joe caught his breath. He wondered if
he was hallucinating, but details began to impinge on his consciousness. The
furs he sat on, and which covered him, were poorly treated and smelt. The
tepee walls weren’t as wind and watertight as they should be, for rain leaked
in all around the hide structure.
The flap was pushed aside, and a young man entered. His buckskin clothing
fit poorly, and his hair hung loose, rather than in braids. He wore no paint,
which wasn’t a surprise, and when he spoke, Joe discovered that his English
was excellent.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and Joe wondered again if he was hallucinating.
But then, the young man touched him, and Joe winced in pain. From all over
his body, he was assaulted with pain, and he sank back, biting his lip to
stop from crying out.
It was true! He and Adam had fallen! “Adam!” Joe cried, again.
“I’m sorry, you were alone,” the Indian said. “I am … White Deer.”
“Joe Cartwright,” muttered Joe, trying to keep a hold of the grief that
bellowed through him. Adam might not be dead, he thought. He swallowed. The
pain was centring itself on his left arm and shoulder. He caught his breath
as he tried to ease it slightly.
“You’re quite badly hurt,” White Deer went on. “We wanted to take you to
your home, but we didn’t know where it was. You’ve been out of it for quite
a few hours. You’ve had a bad bang on the head.”
“Ponderosa,” Joe said, his tongue feeling thick. “Please, take me there.
No harm will come to you, I promise.”
“It is dark,” protested White Deer, taken aback.
“Please,” Joe repeated, and gathered his wandering wits. “My should is dislocated,
and I think my arm is broken. I’m left-handed. If it’s not set soon, I’ll
be unable to use that hand again.”
“Of course, we should have known,” said the other. “Rest, and I’ll be back
soon.” He gave Joe some water and left.
A short time later, he was back, and with the others. Joe fought back the
pain, and asked for their help. There was soon a full-scale argument going
on.
“We stole their food,” said one. “They will want to arrest us.”
“It won’t matter,” Joe answered. “Just take me home, and my father will
give you what you ask for.”
“We have stolen from others,” interjected another.
And so it went on. Joe repeated again and again that it didn’t matter what
they had done. Finally, desperately, he said, “If you need help with finding
food and making what you need, we’ll help you!”
There was a stunned silence. White Deer broke it. “What makes you think
we need help?”
Too sore to think of keeping quiet, Joe pointed out the discrepancies they’d
noticed over the months. Again, the braves were silent.
“He’s right,” white Deer said, at last. “I’m going to get him home, and
if they help, I’ll be grateful to them.”
Another argument broke out, but it wasn’t as heated as the last one. Gradually,
one by one, they came round to White Deer’s way of thinking. Joe was helped
to a crude travois and they headed for the ranch.
It was just daylight when they got there. Ben and Hoss were saddling up,
ready to resume the search for Joe. Hearing the hooves, they went out into
the yard.
For a moment, they gazed at the Indians disbelievingly, then their eyes
fell on Joe, and they rushed to his side. One glance told them both that
Joe needed a doctor at once. His green eyes were glazed and he felt feverish.
“Let’s get him inside,” Ben said, to Hoss, who gently picked Joe up, and
carried him away.
“Thank you for bringing my son back,” Ben said, eyeing this group of young
men. “I’m very grateful.”
“He spoke of another,” said White Deer. “We didn’t find anyone else.” It
wasn’t quite a question.
“My other son, Adam,” Ben answered. “He made it home last night. We were
all worried about Joe.”
“I’m sorry we weren’t able to set his shoulder,” White Deer went on. “We
don’t know much about medicine. Joe said that you would help us.”
“Anything that I can do,” Ben responded. “Just ask.”
“We need help to live like Indians. We are sorry that we have been raiding
ranches over the summer, but we did not know how else to get food.”
Intrigued, Ben said, “Please, come inside. Have something to eat, and I’ll
tend to Joe. Then we can talk about what you need. Please. I won’t be sending
for the sheriff, I give my word.”
Reluctantly, they dismounted. Ben sent one of the hands for Doc Martin (he
wondered if Doc Martin shouldn’t just move to the ranch, the number of times
he’d been out that summer), and escorted his guests inside. Hop Sing soon
had some food on the go, and the young men fell on it as though they were
starving. Looking more closely, Ben thought they just might be.
By the time Paul Martin arrived, the Indians were replete, all of them having
almost rivalled Hoss’ capacity for food. Hop Sing was delighted his talents
had been appreciated. Hoss came down to join them as Ben went upstairs. After
a few minutes, they heard Joe scream in pain, and Hoss blanched.
“Its not easy to hear one you love in pain,” said White Deer. “When we were
younger, my brother, Running Deer, was injured, and I remember crying as his
arm was set.”
“Joe’s the youngest,” Hoss said. “I’ve always looked out for him. He sure
does get into a lot of trouble!”
When Ben came downstairs with Paul, Hoss and the braves were fast friends.
After seeing the doctor out, Ben came and sat with them before the fire, and
had a restorative cup of coffee. It was then that he heard the tale of White
Deer and his friends.
They had been orphaned as very young children. White Deer had only been
3, Running Deer a babe in arms. A missionary had taken all the orphaned children
from the lodges, and raised them as white men. When he died suddenly, earlier
that year, they were turned away from the mission by the new man, and suddenly
found themselves abandoned. They had been unable to get jobs, because they
were Indians. Their own people were no longer on the reservation, and they
drifted from place to place, until they decided they would return to the ways
of their ancestors. The only problem was, they didn’t really know how to
do anything. Hence the badly cured furs, and the poorly made tepee.
“We had to steal to live,” said White Deer. “We knew it was wrong, but we
didn’t know who to turn to for help.” He blushed. “It was Joe that we shot
when we were trying to steal one of your cattle. I don’t know how to tell
you how sorry we are.”
“It was a minor injury,” Ben said. “But we will help you. We’ll teach you
all you need to know about tracking, and trapping. About curing furs and making
a tepee. Why don’t you stay with us for a while? Help with a few chores around
the place as you’re learning, and we’ll feed you, too. How about it?”
Eyes shining, the young men looked at each other, unable to believe this
stroke of good fortune. “Thank you, Mr Cartwright, we accept,” White Deer
said.
***************
Opening the door, Ben saw that Joe was awake. He smiled and went in, sitting
down on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel, son?” he asked, tenderly.
“Sore,” Joe replied, honestly. He was still slightly feverish, but Paul
wasn’t concerned. His chest was clear, and his shoulder had gone back into
place very nicely, considering how long it had been left. The break in his
forearm wasn’t complicated, and Paul had set it easily. Luckily, with it
all being on the one arm, Joe still had a hand free to feed himself, and
see to other personal needs. “Pa, White Deer…”
“White Deer and his friends are going to stay here in the mean time, and
learn all the crafts they would have learned if they had been raised as Indians.
“ Ben told Joe the story. He listened intently.
“I knew there was something,” he said, afterwards, almost to himself. “How’s
Adam?”
“Like you, sore,” Ben responded. “Now, Joe, don’t go saying ‘I told you
so’ to your brother.”
“Me?” Joe said, looking so innocent, that Ben wasn’t fooled for an instant.
“Yes, you!” He laughed. “I know you.” They laughed together. After a moment,
Ben sobered. “Joe, you were both incredibly lucky. I could have lost you both.”
“I thought Adam was dead,” Joe admitted, bleakly. “I suppose he thought
I was dead, too.” He looked thoughtful. “I’m sorry I scared you, Pa.”
“Joe, you’re safe, that’s all that matters now,” Ben said, a lump forming
in his throat. He took Joe’s uninjured hand, and squeezed. “You rest and get
well.”
The door opened, and they both looked round. It wasn’t Hoss, as they had
both expected. It was Adam. His head was still bandaged, and his broken arm
was in a sling. Various lumps and bruises had formed on his face in the last
few hours, and he looked all together dreadful. But that cool smile was on
his face, and there was warmth in his deep brown eyes. “Well, little brother,
I see you’ve turned up again.” The words were tart, but the tone was warm,
and Joe grinned.
“And I was right about those Indians,” he blurted, quite forgetting what
his father had said to him such a short time before.
“It was probably you being right that caused that landslip,” Adam responded.
“Its not often you’re right!”
Sighing, Ben rose. He put his hand on Joe’s forehead, just to check that
the fever was still down. “I’m going,” he said. “Please keep the noise down
as you fight.”
“We’re not fighting, Pa,” protested Joe. His eyes twinkled, merrily.
“No, we’re just having a discussion,” Adam chimed in. “We don’t have the
energy to fight, do we, Joe?”
“No, that’s right,” agreed Joe. “Adam’s getting on a bit now, Pa, and I
have to make allowances for him, you see.”
“Getting on a bit?” Adam repeated, and Ben made a hasty exit. He knew this
was just their way of showing their love, and reacting to the close call they’d
both had, but he could only take so much. He went downstairs, and sank down
into a chair.
“Did I hear Adam up?” Hoss asked.
“Yes,” Ben responded, dryly. “He and Joe are having a discussion. I left
them to it. If blood starts to flow, they are all yours!”
“Hey, Pa, that ain’t fair,” protested Hoss. “They’re just my brothers, but
you’re their pa. Surely you can make them behave?”
“I doubt it,” Ben said, seriously.
*****************
As Adam and Joe recovered from their injuries, they took on the bulk of
the teaching of the young braves. They explained how to make traps, and the
best places to set them. Hop Sing showed them how to skin and gut their prey,
and the best ways to cook over an open fire. Adam, who was a fair hand at
furs, showed them how to cure furs so they didn’t go off. Joe explained how
to make leather. Hoss took on the teaching of tracking, and they picked it
up with enviable ease.
After a few weeks, Adam returned to light duties, but Joe’s shoulder was
taking a long time to heal properly, and he was still forbidden to ride. In
truth, it had taken Cochise quite a while to get over his lameness, and Joe
admitted that he would find it too painful to ride. Instead, he took the
braves round the trees, and showed them which nuts were good to store, and
which trees had sweet inner bark that could be tapped for late winter sweetness.
He taught them the best place to make a fire, and how to find dry deadfall,
even in the wettest conditions.
Finally, as the trees were just beginning to show the first changes of colour,
Joe was allowed to ride again. He was restricted to light duties, until his
arm regained its full strength, but that suited Joe. By now, the braves were
living part of the time at their camp, and part of the time at the ranch.
Joe waited until they were spending a few days away, and rode off one morning,
not telling Ben or his brothers where he was going.
It didn’t take long to find Winnemucca’s camp. Joe rode in slowly, making
it clear to all that he came in peace. He was well known in the camp, but
it never hurt to be careful. Dismounting, he didn’t protest as he was relieved
of his gun, and he followed a brave to the chief’s tent.
Winnemucca was getting on in years, but he still stood as straight as a
Ponderosa pine. Joe had always admired the chief. He had a vast amount of
dignity, and was adapting to a world where his values were generally ridiculed.
Joe had been brought up to respect everyone, whether they were Indian, black
or white. It made no difference to him. He respected a lot of the Indians’
beliefs. Many of them held true to the Christian religion, and Joe thought
it appalling the way the Indians were treated.
After the ritual exchange of greetings, Joe told Winnemucca why he had come.
“I am sure you know about these braves,” he said, after explaining how they
came to be around. “Little happens in this land without Winnemucca being aware
of it. They wish to live with their people, but have no one. I wondered if
Winnemucca would be willing to adopt them into the Piautes, so they would
have a people, and the chance to live as their people do.”
“Is this the wish of your father?” Winnemucca asked.
“I don’t know,” Joe admitted. “I thought of this myself. I did not discuss
it with my father.”
For a long time, Winnemucca was silent, staring at the youngest Cartwright.
He respected Ben Cartwright immensely. He had been treated with nothing
but respect from the man. The sons were good men, too. They weren’t afraid
to come into the camp, or to help the tribe when it was needed. What this
young man asked was very unusual, but it could be done.
“I will ask the people,” Winnemucca said. “You return this time tomorrow,
and I will say.”
“Thank you, Winnemucca. I am grateful to you,” Joe said. He was elated.
He had half expected the chief to say no at once.
“Joe Cartwright, why do you do this?” asked the chief. “Did they ask this
of you?”
“No,” Joe answered, startled. “They are my friends, and I know they want
to live the way their ancestors lived. But they haven’t had a chance, and
I wanted to help them, if I could.”
“This time tomorrow,” Winnemucca said, and went away.
Unsure if he had just helped or hindered his friends, Joe rode home.
************
The time went past very slowly for Joe. He was restless, which his father
and brothers put down to his being almost well. Joe found it very hard to
keep his secret, but he didn’t want everyone to know, in case it fell through.
Then, he would be the only one to be disappointed. He tossed and turned all
that night, never quite hitting the deep sleep he was accustomed to, and he
rose next morning feeling as though he hadn’t slept at all.
Several times over breakfast, Ben asked him if he was feeling all right,
and Joe was beginning to get really quite sort with him. “Pa, I’m fine!” he
exclaimed. “Honestly, I’m fine!”
“All right, son,” Ben said. “I was only asking.”
“Sorry, Pa,” Joe apologised. “I didn’t mean to snap.” He smiled. “But I
am fine.”
It seemed to Joe to take an age before he could slip away. He rode towards
the Piaute encampment, his anxiety spiralling out of sight with each passing
minute. He tried to keep his hopes under control, but he didn’t quite succeed.
Optimism came naturally to Joe, and he couldn’t help but hope for the outcome
he wanted.
The entire camp was gathered waiting for him. He slid down from Cochise's
back, and walked slowly forward, his heart in his mouth. Winnemucca didn’t
keep him waiting. “I talked with the people,” he said. “I told them of Joe
Cartwright wanting to help his friends. I told them where the friends came
from. They have agreed to allow them to be adopted into this tribe. Tell your
friends. The ceremony will take place at full moon, in two days time.”
“Thank you, Winnemucca,” Joe gasped, barely able to get the words out. A
smile broke free, and he looked round the gathered tribe. “Thank you all!”
*********
He was literally dancing on air as he arrived home. White Deer and his friends
had returned earlier that day, and Joe couldn’t wait to tell them the news.
He cornered them in the big house, as Ben, Adam and Hoss all arrived home.
“White Deer, you know you wished that you had a tribe to belong to? Well,
Winnemucca has agreed to adopt you all into the Piautes.”
“Why would he do that?” asked White Deer suspiciously.
Warily, suddenly realising that he might have offended his new friends,
Joe explained what he had done. There was a long silence. Joe caught his
father’s eye, and ducked his head, recognising the anger he saw. Adam had
his arms folded across his chest, and had one cynical eyebrow raised. Hoss
just looked embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to offend you,” Joe said, wretchedly.
“Offend us?” said White Deer. He grasped Joe by the shoulders and the young
man looked up into the other’s face. “Joe, do you know what you have done
for us?” White Deer was smiling, as were the others. “You have given us the
chance of a home, and a people. How can we ever thank you for this?”
“Be happy,” Joe said, simply. He felt his mouth twitch, and then his wonderful
smile broke through. Glancing back at Ben, he saw that his father was smiling,
too. He knew he would get a lecture about interfering, but he no longer cared!
He had made his friends happy, and that was all that counted.
***************
Two nights later, the Cartwrights stood near White Deer and his friends
as they were formally adopted into the Piautes. Joe wore a huge grin, which
even his father’s lecture hadn’t been able to shift. The ceremony was solemn,
but the celebrations after were joyous.
After a time, Ben signalled to the boys that they should take their leave.
Winnemucca came over, and nodded to Joe. “They are good men, Joe Cartwright,”
he said. “I am glad you brought them to us.”
“Winnemucca is a good man,” Joe responded. “And his tribe are good people.
Thank you for taking them in.”
Looking at Ben, Winnemucca went on, “Ben Cartwright is a fortunate man to
have one so thoughtful for a son.”
“Thank you, Winnemucca, “ Ben said. He looked at Joe, and placed a loving
hand on his shoulder. “I know I am.”
The end
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