Good Samaritan
By: Rona Y.
“Hey, Adam,” Joe called,
softly. “Come look at this.” He pointed down the slope from where he sat on his
horse.
“What is it?” Adam asked,
manoeuvring his temperamental chestnut gelding up beside Joe’s pinto gelding.
Sport, Adam’s horse, put his ears back and pulled a face at Cochise, Joe’s
horse, but Cochise was used to his stable mate’s antics and simply ignored him.
Adam curbed his mount’s desire to bite. “Well, what d’ya know?” he mused,
rhetorically, looking down at a camp fire with someone sleeping beside it.
“Guests,” Joe replied.
“Think we ought to go down and say hello?”
“Definitely,” Adam nodded.
“It would be rude not to.” The brothers grinned at each other and turned their
horses.
Adam and Joe Cartwright had
been out looking at timber that day and were now having a leisurely ride home,
enjoying the warm fall sunshine. The leaves were spectacularly coloured and
just starting to drop. The air was warm, but the wind held a cold edge,
reminding the brothers that winter was on its way.
“So what do you think?” Joe
asked as the horses picked their way down the hill. “Potential nester or
someone passing through?”
“Impossible to tell,” Adam
replied. “But we’ll find out in a few minutes.”
The camp site was quite
simple, with just the small fire, the horse tethered a little distance away and
the sleeping roll. Joe and Adam dismounted, and warily went across. Both were
somewhat surprised that the man sleeping there hadn’t been wakened as they
approached.
“Hey, mister,” Adam said,
quite loudly, but there was no response. “Hey!” he repeated, but again, there
was no visible response. Exchanging a look with Joe, Adam went over to crouch
by the man. He pulled the bedroll back and gasped. “He’s been shot!” he
declared. “Joe, get the canteen.”
Hurrying back to the
horses, Joe snatched up his canteen and turned. He froze, for another man had
appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and had Adam in a strangle hold, with a gun
pointing at his head!
“Slow an’ easy, kid,” the
man warned. “Put down the canteen an’ drop yer gun.”
Slowly, Joe did as he was
told, his eyes riveted to Adam, who seemed to be dazed. “What do you want?” Joe
asked.
“I didn’ want anythin’,”
the man replied. “Me an’ ma partner there was jist passin’ through. But you fellas
jist had ta come an’ be nosey.”
“This is our land,” Joe
replied. “We wondered what you were doing here.” He looked at Adam. “Are you
all right, Adam?”
“Yes,” Adam replied, but
his voice was hoarse.
“Well, you chose the wrong
time ta wonder, kid,” the man replied. “Me an’ ma partner is jist gonna mosey
on along when he’s feelin’ a mite better, an’ ya ain’t gonna stop us, ya
understand?”
“What are you going to do?”
Joe asked, his mouth dry.
“It’d be easy enough ta
kill ya,” the man replied. “But that might git messy, an’ the law’s already
behind us. I’ll need ta think on this a while.” He smiled and Joe thought that
a shark’s smile would be warmer. “Git that rope off’n yer saddle, kid, an’
bring it here.”
“Why?” Joe asked, but his
only response was a tightening of the choke hold on Adam. Immediately, Joe did
as he was told.
“Give the rope ta this
fella,” the man ordered, as Joe hesitated in front of him. “And then turn
round, git down on yer knees an’ put yer hands behind ya.” He shook Adam. “An’ yer
gonna tie his hands an’ feet, real tight, ya understand?”
“I understand,” Adam
agreed, quietly. He looked at Joe. “Do as he says, Joe,” he advised. He met his
brother’s eyes, willing Joe to see sense. They were too vulnerable to risk
trying anything at that moment.
With a hard look at the man
holding a gun to his brother’s head, Joe did as he was told, turning round and
kneeling, placing his hands behind his back. He felt the rough hemp loop round
his wrists and automatically tightened his muscles. But that ploy was not to go
unnoticed and he received a swift kick in the backside. “Relax yer muscles,
kid, an’ don’ try anythin’ like that again, or this fella gits it.”
Gritting his teeth, Joe
forced himself to relax as much as he could and allowed Adam to tie his hands.
The rope was secure, but not too tight. However, there was no way Joe would be
getting free any time soon. He felt the rope winding around his ankles, drawing
his feet tightly together. The end of the rope was dropped onto Joe’s legs and a
hand gave him a push, forcing him onto his side.
Glaring furiously at his
captor, Joe was forced to watch as Adam went over to his horse, retrieved his
rope and was subjected to the same treatment. “Satisfied?” Joe snarled and the
man came over to look down on him.
“Almost,” agreed the other,
nodding. He went over to look at his friend, and then casually picked up Joe’s
canteen to give him some water.
“We were going to help
him,” Joe told the man.
“Being the good Samaritan, huh?”
The man smiled. “Well, ya know what they say; no good deed goes unpunished.” He
laughed.
“What are you going to do
with us?” Adam asked. His calm voice belied his discomfort. His head was
throbbing where he had been struck.
“Well now, I don’ know ezzactly,”
the other replied. “We can’t go on until Bert is ready to travel, an’ he ain’t
well right now. As I said, the law is after us, so ya might be useful ta keep
around.”
“If we’re not home tonight,
someone will come looking for us,” Joe threatened.
“So?” The man’s
indifference set Joe’s teeth on edge. “That meant ta worry me, kid?”
“If I was on the run, it’d
worry me,” Joe shot back. “What did you do?”
“Does it matter ta ya?” He
shook his head. “Boy, ya sure talk a lot, kid.”
Shrugging as well as he
could, given his position, Joe replied, “No, it doesn’t matter. The law will
catch up with you anyway.”
Kneeling by Joe, the man
gave a wolfish smile. “They ain’t caught up with me yet, kid. An’ I don’ intend
them ta, either. Ya ain’t the first ta help me out by stickin’ around, an’ I
don’ suppose ya’ll be the last, neither.”
“So you mean to kill us?”
Joe asked and was pleased that there was no quiver in his voice. “Is that what
you’re wanted for; murder?”
“Damn, kid, but ya got a
big mouth!” the man growled. “Na, Bert an’ me’s wanted fer bank robbery. It
jist so happens that the bank we robbed in
“Did you kill him?” Joe
asked.
Shrugging indifferently,
the man replied, “Probably. I hope so.” He saw the disgust on Joe’s face and
laughed. “So ya think ya’re better than me, huh?”
“I’ve never murdered
anyone, or robbed a bank,” Joe replied. Adam winced. Joe should have kept his
mouth shut!
“Bet you never had anyone
in the position yer in either, kid,” he retorted. “Ya should a kept yer mouth
shut.” Grabbing the extra rope that was attached to Joe’s bonds, he pushed Joe over
onto his stomach and hog-tied him. Joe struggled grimly throughout, but there
wasn’t much he could do. He refused at first to open his mouth for the gag, but
a savage backhand slap dazed him enough to allow the man to pry his mouth open,
shove in a bandanna and tied another one around his head. Standing, the man
looked down on him. “Perhaps ya’ll learn yer lesson now,” he commented and
walked away.
*********************
“Joe.” Adam deliberately
kept his voice soft, not wanting to attract any more unwanted attention. “Joe,
are you all right?”
Horribly uncomfortable, but
knowing there was nothing Adam could do to help him, Joe had little choice but
to nod. He lifted an eyebrow questioningly, the only way he could ask Adam if
he was all right. Joe didn’t know how much of a blow his brother had taken, but
it had to have been pretty bad for Adam to have been over powered like that.
“I’m okay,” Adam replied,
the brotherly telepathy working. “It’s not that bad.” He screwed his head
around to watch their captor, who was crouching by his unconscious buddy.
Something about him was familiar to Adam, but his head was pounding and he
couldn’t get his brain into gear.
At that moment, the man
rose, wondered over to look gloatingly down at Joe before he disappeared from
sight. Immediately, Joe began to work at his bonds, knowing that it was
probably useless. His muscles were already aching from their cramped position.
Adam worked his, too, but his ropes were much more tightly tied than Joe’s
were. He soon slumped back, exhausted, as the pain from his head got worse.
Seeing Adam slumped down
dejectedly, Joe renewed his efforts, but all he had to show for them was
abraded skin on his wrists when his strength gave out. He rested his head on
the ground, breathing noisily through his nose. Adam had his eyes closed, Joe
noted worriedly.
That was how they were
still lying when their captor came back. Adam’s eyes opened briefly and the
man’s name came to him – Ted Thatcher. Adam had seen the wanted poster in Roy
Coffee’s office a few short days before. It had just come in and
“Comfortable?” Thatcher
asked Joe and laughed at the black look of enmity that Joe gave him.
“Please,” Adam said,
softly. “Please untie him.” He wouldn’t ask for himself, but he would beg for
his little brother.
“What’s it to you?”
Thatcher asked.
“He’s my brother,” Adam
replied. “Please, he’s in pain like that.”
“Yer brother, huh?”
Thatcher mused, suddenly looking thoughtful. “That’s ma brother over there.” He
pointed to the man by the fire. “An’ I don’ think he’s gonna make it.”
“I’m sorry,” Adam murmured.
“We tried to help him.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’ go all
soft on me,” Thatcher snapped. “All right, I’ll let him loose from the hogtie. But
if he annoys me…” He didn’t finish his threat, but he didn’t need to. Both Adam
and Joe understood him well enough. Thatcher leaned down and untied his
handiwork, freeing Joe’s feet from his hands, but leaving the gag in place.
Sensing that it wouldn’t be
wise to push it, Adam contented himself with a “Thanks.”
The hours ticked past as
they lay there, watching Thatcher tend to his injured brother. It was obvious
to them all that he wasn’t going to make it and somewhere about dusk, he died
quietly between one breath and the next, without ever regaining consciousness.
There was no outpouring of
grief. Thatcher simply drew the blanket over his brother’s face and rose to his
feet. With one last, long look at his brother’s body, Thatcher walked away into
the darkness.
Instantly, Joe began to
wrestle with his bonds again, but the knots were as tight as ever and his
muscles were sore from the enforced inactivity. When Thatcher returned some
time later, Joe and Adam were still his prisoners. Adam was dozing lightly,
something that he had been doing on and off all afternoon and evening.
“I gotta git some sleep,”
Thatcher commented, and dragged Joe over to a tree, where he looped the rope
around it several times and tied it off. He did the same to Adam, causing Joe
to seethe. His brother wasn’t going anywhere. Couldn’t the man see that Adam
was concussed?
Unconcerned by the black
looks Joe was sending his way, Thatcher went back to the fire, threw on a few
more sticks of wood, then lay down, wrapping himself in his bedroll. Judging by
his snores, he was asleep in moments, leaving the Cartwrights to stare into the
darkness, wondering what the next day held for them.
******************************
Come morning, Joe was sore,
cold and tired. He had slept a little, but the discomfort of his position kept
him from reaching a really deep sleep and the cold crept into his bones. He
wondered if anyone would come looking for them that day, but doubted it. They
had not been sure when they were going to get home and it might be yet another
day before the alarm was raised. Would they still be alive then?
Swallowing against the
hideous dryness in his mouth, Joe looked across at Adam, who seemed to still be
asleep. Joe vowed to do everything he could to make sure that Adam was all
right. It was an odd position for them,
Joe mused. Usually, it was Adam who was protecting Joe, as he had the previous
evening.
A stirring by the fire
dragged Joe’s attention away from his brother and he looked at their captor
covertly. Joe still didn’t know his name, as Adam had not told him the previous
night. Joe wondered what would happen to them, as Thatcher looked over at Joe.
“Sleep well?” he asked,
ironically, and laughed. “Guess ya must be gettin’ good an’ thirsty ‘bout now,
huh?”
Much as he hated to admit
it, Joe was parched. He nodded reluctantly. He desperately wanted to pee, too,
but he was in no rush to tell this man that!
However, Thatcher wasn’t a
complete monster, and he set about untying Joe from the tree. Before long, he had
Joe’s ankles tied in a sort of hobble, that allowed Joe to take small steps,
and then he retied his hands in front of him before taking out the gag. “Here,”
he said, and handed Joe a small cup of water.
It wasn’t nearly enough to
slake Joe’s thirst entirely, so the youngest Cartwright took his time, holding
the water in his mouth for long moments before swallowing it. Even though it
was stale and flat, the water was the best that Joe had tasted. Then Thatcher
allowed Joe the privacy to pee, knowing that he wouldn’t go anywhere without
Adam and hobbled the way he was. When Joe was finished, Thatcher made Joe sit
down, then tied his bound hands to his thighs, so Joe couldn’t attempt to free
himself.
Rousing Adam took long enough
to worry Joe immensely. However, he was eventually sitting up and allowing
himself to be tied in a similar way to Joe. He managed to smile across at his
brother, but Joe thought Adam looked dreadful. His brother was pale and had
huge circles under his eyes.
“I ain’t got enough grub ta
feed ya,” Thatcher told them, as he cooked his breakfast. “An’ I got a long
ways ta go. Ya fellas’ll have ta go hungry today.”
“What are you going to do
with us?” Joe asked.
“I ain’t takin’ ya with me,
if’n that’s what yer worried about,” Thatcher replied. “I found a place to
stash ya last night. Someone’ll find ya there – eventually.” He saw the look on
Joe’s face. “Say one word, kid, an’ I’ll blow yer brother’s head off. That
please ya better?” The gun was in his hand.
Subsiding, Joe shot a look
at Adam. He couldn’t take a chance with Adam’s life. They had no choice but to
go wherever they were taken. Once they were alone, Joe vowed that he would
manage to free himself and Adam and get them both safely home.
Eventually, the little camp
site was tidied up and only Bert’s body remained. Thatcher seemed have blocked
it out of his mind, for he made no effort to either take his brother along or
bury him. He simply went about his business as though the corpse was not lying
there.
When he was ready to go,
Thatcher tied up Cochise’s and Sport’s reins and set them loose. He untied the
Cartwright’s hands from their thighs and tied the ends of the rope to his
saddle horn. “Let’s go,” he urged and mounted.
It was immediately clear
that Adam wasn’t entirely steady on his feet and Joe did his best to support
his brother with his bound hands. It was difficult and they both tripped over
their hobbles repeatedly. Joe found it particularly hampering, as he tried to
help Adam too, and he fell his whole length a number of times. At first,
Thatcher stopped at once to allow Joe time to get to his feet, but after a
while, he dragged Joe several feet before stopping.
When they at last came to a
halt, both Cartwrights were exhausted. Joe was filthy, with scraped, bleeding
places here and there. Adam’s head throbbed mercilessly and he thought he might
be sick. He leaned unsteadily against Joe when they stopped.
“This is it,” Thatcher said
and gestured towards a cave entrance, partially blocked with fallen rocks. “I’m
gonna leave ya here.”
Hope flared through Joe’s
heart. This wouldn’t be too hard to get out of, he thought. He fought to keep a
smile from crossing his face. They would be home by nightfall!
Dismounting, Thatcher
untied Adam’s rope from the saddle horn and led him over to the cave. The
rubble came to about waist high and there was no way Adam could climb over it
wearing the hobble. That didn’t deter Thatcher. He simply dragged Adam over the
rough stones.
“Hey!” Joe cried in protest.
“Don’t do that! He’s already hurt!”
“Shut up, kid!” Thatcher
snarled as he gave Adam a vicious shove from the top of the pile. Adam vanished
soundlessly into the cave.
“You’ll pay for that!” Joe vowed.
“Whatever it takes, I’ll hunt you down and you’ll pay for that!”
Furious at Thatcher’s
cavalier treatment of Adam, Joe threw himself at his captor as he returned. He
used his bound hands to smash at Thatcher’s face, but to no avail. The slack in
the rope wasn’t enough to allow him to fight freely, and Thatcher had few
problems throwing Joe to the ground.
Undaunted, Joe launched
himself at Thatcher again, but this time the other man stepped sideways and
hammered his gun down on Joe’s head. Joe went down and out.
He didn’t feel anything as
he was dragged across the ground, up the rocks and thrown into the cave. He
didn’t hear Adam call his name as Thatcher followed Joe into the cave and bound
his hands behind his back, viciously knotting the rope around Joe’s elbows,
too. As a last piece of nastiness, Thatcher gagged Joe once more, kicked Adam
for good measure and left.
**************************
The first thing that Joe
became aware of was hands scrabbling at the back of his head. He moaned as pain
hammered through his skull. He only remembered where he was and what was going
on as Adam finally managed to loosen the gag. Joe spat out the wad of cloth in
his mouth. “Thanks,” he breathed.
“Are you all right?” Adam
asked, anxiously.
“Fine,” Joe assured him.
His head was throbbing, but Joe was determined to keep that from Adam. He tried
to lift his head, but a combination of the pain and the position of his arms
stopped him. The strain across his shoulders was horrendous. “Are you all
right?” he asked.
“I guess,” Adam replied.
“We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Help me sit up,” Joe
requested and he was soon sitting by Adam. “Is there any chance you could work
on these knots?” Adam’s hands were still tied in front of him.
“I’ll try,” Adam agreed. “But
I can’t really feel my fingers too well.” He began to fumble at the ropes.
It soon became clear that
Adam wasn’t going to be able to untie the knots, and neither of them had their
knives any more. “Guess we’ll have to do it the hard way then,” Joe remarked as
cheerfully as he could. “You rest, Adam.”
He wormed his way across
the cave until he came to the wall, where he sought around for a sharp edged
stone. He eventually found one, and began to slow, laborious up and down
movement to fray the ropes on the stone.
It took what seemed like
hours and Adam was sound asleep by the time the strands parted and Joe’s hands
were at last free. He had to sit rubbing his hands for quite some time to get
the circulation going again before he was able to tackle the rope on his feet,
but at long last, he was finally free again.
Grasping his stone, Joe
stumbled across to Adam, discovering various small aches and pains on the way.
“Adam?” he said, quietly, as he began to work the ropes. “Adam, can you hear
me?”
“Joe?” Adam mumbled, slowly
wakening.
“Yeah, it’s me, big
brother. I’ll soon have you free and then we can get home.” Joe worked
diligently and soon Adam was free. “Come on, Adam, I’ll help you up.” Joe was
relentlessly trying to remain cheerful, but although Adam didn’t normally talk
as much as Joe, he was abnormally silent, even for him.
“I don’t think I can do
this,” Adam quavered, as Joe dragged him towards the entrance. “Joe…” Adam
pushed his brother away as he leaned over and was comprehensively sick.
Assessing his brother, Joe
realised that Adam was in no condition to walk home. Joe fought with his own
stomach for a few minutes, for he felt quite queasy himself. He finally
mastered his sickness, for the time being, and helped Adam sit down again. “You
rest here, Adam and I’ll go for help,” Joe proposed.
“You aren’t any better than
me,” Adam observed, seeing how pale Joe was and the huge lump that had risen on
his head.
“I’m fine,” Joe denied.
“I’ll be back soon.”
He didn’t dare linger, for
Joe really didn’t feel any better than Adam. But he had vowed to get his
brother home safely and that was exactly what he was going to do.
***************************
The first priority for Joe
was to find some water. He had nothing to carry water in, but he thought if he
drank his fill, it would temporarily quieten his stomach, which was rumbling
and gurgling. Perhaps the cold water would help his headache, although Joe
didn’t really think so. He blinked sweat out of his eyes, wondering why he was
sweating so much when the wind was cool.
Knowing roughly where he
was allowed Joe to guess where the nearest stream was, but it took him much
longer than he expected to walk there and he was quite disturbed to see that it
was afternoon when he reached it. So much
for getting home tonight. Joe stumbled to his knees by the stream and
dipped his face into the cool, refreshing water. His thirst was over powering,
and Joe drank and drank, knowing he shouldn’t, but unable to stop himself. When
he had finally drunk his fill, Joe dunked his head into the icy cold water.
Pushing back to his feet,
Joe set off once more, heading towards home. He knew now that he was facing
another night outside without the right equipment, but there was nothing he
could do about it. Perhaps, if he was very lucky, he might come across one of
the line shacks, but Joe wasn’t hopeful. He would have to detour to find a
shack and time was of the essence.
He had been travelling
perhaps half an hour after leaving the stream when the first of the cramps hit.
One minute, Joe was walking along at a steady pace, the next, he was curled
over, gasping at the pain that gripped his stomach.
It was only the first of
many cramps. The second one hit a few minutes later, just about the time Joe
had regained his breath and walked a few steps. This time, he vomited too, the
water he had drunk coming back up. Over and over again Joe retched, until there
was nothing left to come. Even then, he suffered through some dry heaves before
he was able to stop, and he was slightly alarmed to see some blood when he
wiped his mouth. It was just a broken blood vessel in his throat, caused by the
violent vomiting, but Joe didn’t know that.
Pushing himself to his
feet, Joe staggered on a few steps, one arm wrapped gingerly around his
mid-section. He was sweating profusely now, and his headache was worse than
ever. Lights danced on the edge of his vision, and everything was blurry.
Another cramp struck, forcing Joe to his knees once more. He moaned aloud,
curling over in the hopes that this would help the pain, but it made no
difference.
After a time – it seemed
like forever to the distressed young man – the cramp eased. Panting, Joe
gradually relaxed his body, becoming aware that he was lying on his side on the
grass. With a shaking hand, he wiped sweat from his brow, and then pushed
himself upright. His head swam alarmingly, and Joe blinked owlishly as he
looked around. “Damn, what’s wrong with me?” he muttered to himself. He
couldn’t bring his vision into focus at all.
Rubbing his eyes, Joe
blinked again, but it made no difference. He still couldn’t focus. “Don’t
matter,” he told himself. “I gotta get help for Adam. Get on your feet,
Cartwright!” He struggled to his feet and squinted at his surroundings to determine
which direction he should be going in. Decided, he set off, his pace noticeably
slowed.
*******************************
The cramps set in ever more
frequently and Joe was soon spending longer and longer lying on the ground in a
daze while he tried to deal with the pain. Each time he ‘recovered’, he pushed
on a bit further, but he was finding it harder and harder to keep going.
Looking up suddenly, Joe
realised it was almost dark. He could barely make out any of the landscape
around him. “Gotta find shelter,” he muttered. He thought he saw some shrubby
trees up ahead, and decided they would do. Drawing on what was left of his
reserves of strength and courage, Joe stumbled on.
It was only when the ground
gave way beneath his feet that Joe realised that he must have strayed from his
intended course. The shale slope was familiar territory to him, but it lay
south of the route he’d been following in his mind. But there was no time to
think of that. Joe’s feet were moving of their own volition and he lost his
precarious balance, landing on the already moving slope going forward.
The next thing he knew, Joe
was tumbling head over heels down the slope. A cry, drawn from his own lips,
was the last thing he heard as pain consumed him.
***********************************
“Mr Cartwright?”
“Yes?” Ben replied, turning
round to look at Fred. “What is it, Fred?” Fred had been with the family a long
time.
“I think I jist seen Mr
Adam and Little Joe’s horses,” he ventured, doubtfully.
“Oh good,” Ben replied,
missing what Fred was trying to say completely. “I thought they’d be coming
home today.”
“Ya don’t understand, sir,”
Fred persisted. “I seen the horses, but they was alone, grazin’ in the pasture
jist down the road.” He pointed in the general direction and Ben turned away
from the corral where he had been looking at Captain, their prize stallion. The
horse had been lame a few days before and Ben was checking to make sure that
his leg was healing properly.
A small thread of alarm
wormed its way through Ben’s stomach. “You’re sure the boys weren’t anywhere
around?” he asked.
“I’m sure,” Fred replied.
He bit his lip. “The reins was all tied up.”
“Get Hoss,” Ben instructed.
“Meet me down there. Tell him to bring provisions and the wagon. Hurry!”
“Yes, sir,” Fred agreed and
ran over to his horse. Ben mounted Buck and set him into a gallop.
***********************
“What d’ya think, Pa?” Hoss
asked, as he looked at his brothers’ horses.
“I think they’ve run into
trouble of some kind,” Ben replied, grimly. “Fred, take the horses back home,
please. We’re going to look for them. You ready, Hoss?”
“Ready,” Hoss agreed,
climbing onto the wagon seat.
They knew the general
direction that the brothers had intended to travel, but beyond that, their only
real hope of finding Adam and Joe lay in luck.
*************************
Wakening suddenly, Adam
blinked and looked around. It was hours since Joe had left to get help and Adam
was now beginning to feel a bit better. He wished he had tried harder to get
Joe to stay with him, so they could go on together when they were both feeling
a bit better. Rising, Adam went outside the cave to get some fresh air and
wondered about setting off for home. Finally, he decided against it, because he
knew Joe would bring help directly to the cave and it would be foolish to set
off for home, miss his rescuers and cause a panic. But the enforced sitting and
waiting didn’t please Adam. He finally set off to get himself some water and he
also managed to find some late berries growing.
Even so, time ticked past
horrendously slowly. Although feeling a good bit better, Adam was still
suffering the effects of a mild concussion and he found himself falling asleep
again in the late afternoon sunshine.
It was cold when he woke
and he looked round, startled to find that it was almost dark. The sun was
setting and he was in the shade. Adam shivered, wrapping his arms around his
body and knew he would have to collect some wood for a fire and go back to the
shelter of the cave. He did so slowly, feeling his head reeling as he bent
down.
It took a few minutes to
get the fire going, but Adam was grateful for its warmth. He sat just inside
the cave entrance, watching the flames create dancing shadows on the walls. Had
Joe reached safety? Even walking, he should have got home by now, Adam
reasoned. Rescue should come in the morning. Sighing, he decided that he might
as well give in to the waves of sleep that were threatening to overwhelm him.
Lying down, he snuggled as close to the fire as he dared and closed his eyes.
A sound outside a moment
later made him sit up, straining to hear. Just as he thought he’d imagined it,
the shout came again. “Adam! Joe!”
“Pa!” he cried, scrambling
to his feet. “Pa! Over here!”
“Adam!” Ben’s horse hove
into view and a few moments later, Adam was safe in his father’s arms, with
Hoss grinning at him as he got down from the wagon seat. “Are you all right,
son?” Ben asked.
“I’ve got a bit of a
headache, but I’m fine apart from that,” Adam assured him.
“Where’s Joe?” Ben asked
and the smile left Adam’s face.
“I thought Joe had sent
you,” he replied, slowly. “He left here hours ago to get help.” Adam looked
helplessly at his father and brother as the implications sank in. “I knew I shouldn’t
have let him go!” Adam cried. “But he told me he was all right! Why did I
believe him?”
“Sit down,” Ben instructed
his oldest son. “And tell me what happened.”
Slowly, in fits and starts,
Adam told the story. Ben and Hoss exchanged grave looks when Adam stopped
talking. They hadn’t seen Joe at all on the way and it was only because Hoss
had seen the tracks that they had found Adam at all.
“Well, there’s nothing we
can do tonight,” Ben said, finally. “It’s too dark. We’ll have to look for Joe
in the morning. Hoss, get the blankets and food from the wagon. I think Adam is
probably hungry.” He smiled gently at his oldest son. “Adam, stop blaming
yourself. You couldn’t have stopped Joe from going, short of tying him up
again. We’ll find him. I’m sure he’s all right.”
But as the night wore on,
Ben slept very little, worry for his youngest son disturbing his sleep. Where
was Joe?
*****************************
Groaning, Joe lifted his
head. It was dark and he couldn’t see further than a few feet in front of him,
but he knew not to move. Just lifting his head had caused the shale slope he
was lying on to shift under him. Joe had no desire to be carried down the hill
and into the small river at the bottom. Drawing in a deep breath, Joe took
stock of his situation.
He was lying on his
stomach, with his feet higher than his head. He carefully lifted his hand to
his head and probed gently. The ache remained and Joe could feel some rough
areas under his fingertips that flared with pain as he touched them. So he had
hit his head – again. Moving his legs caused pain to shoot up into his back,
but Joe didn’t think his legs were broken. It was difficult to be sure, as he
didn’t dare move them too much, in case he started another landslip. He knew he
was lucky that he hadn’t gone into the river already. Sighing, he twitched his arms. His left arm
worked well enough, but his right wrist hurt. After a little gentle poking, Joe
decided it was just a sprain.
There was really no other
choice but to stay where he was until daylight, but Joe wasn’t enthralled with
the idea of spending the night there. He pillowed his head on his arms, and
thought that at least the stomach cramps had quit.
The thought had barely
passed through his mind when his stomach cramped painfully. Joe gasped, and
drew his legs up slightly. The cramp was less severe than some of the earlier
ones, but it was still bad enough. Joe instinctively tried to curl into a ball,
and it took him several moments to realise that he was moving.
Desperately, he reached out
to grab something – anything! – that would slow his descent, but there was
nothing stable to hold onto. Slowly at first, then ever faster, Joe slid
inexorably down the slope.
******************************
The second awakening was worse
than the first. This time, Joe could feel the blood trickling down his face and
he was soaked to the skin, lying face up in the river. Everything hurt and when
he tried dragging himself out of the water, he failed. His body simply had no
strength left.
Shivering helplessly, Joe
simply lay there, thankful that his head was above the water, but tormented by
the cold and by the pains that occasionally shot through his legs and back and
the relentless stomach cramps that threatened to double him over and pitch him
headfirst into the water. Joe knew that if that happened, he would drown. Once
more, he made an attempt to drag his body from the river, but again he failed
and slumped down, exhausted.
As he grew colder, Joe
slipped in and out of consciousness and by dawn, he was no longer truly aware
of his surroundings. The cold was sapping his dwindling strength faster and
faster and even the sun, when it peeked above the distant horizon, couldn’t
provide him with warmth.
Joe was dying.
******************************
Dawn saw the other
Cartwrights up and getting ready to move. Adam was the only one of them who had
slept properly. Hoss and Ben had spent large tracts of the night gazing into
the darkness, worrying about Joe. Adam’s head injury, minor though it was, kept
him asleep.
“I found some tracks, Pa,”
Hoss told Ben. He pointed. “Could be Joe.”
“What aren’t you telling
me?” Ben asked, seeing that Hoss couldn’t meet his eyes. “Hoss?”
Reluctantly, the big man
met Ben’s eyes. “I followed ‘em a fer a bit,” he admitted. “An’ whoever it was
ain’t too good. They’d bin sick.”
“Let’s go,” Ben suggested.
“Come on, Adam, let’s get you into the wagon.” He tried not to hurry his oldest
son, but his anxiety had communicated itself to the others and Adam scrambled
into the wagon as fast he could.
Relinquishing Buck to Hoss,
Ben got into the wagon seat and they set off.
*****************************
The tracks were tricky to
follow, as they didn’t go in anything approaching a straight line. They wavered
and wandered all over the place. The evidence that whoever they were following
was unwell was plain to them all and the anxiety grew.
Then they came to a place
where the wagon couldn’t go. Hoss got down from Buck and followed the tracks on
foot. Silently, Ben and Adam waited. Adam took a drink from the canteen, for he
was still feeling the effects of not enough water the previous day.
“Pa!” The shout startled
them both, but not as much as the sudden crashing noises that indicated Hoss was
running towards them. “Pa!” Hoss appeared from between the trees. “I seen him!
Quick!” He mounted Buck and spurred the gelding towards the river.
Perplexed, hoping, but
disquieted by the look on his middle son’s face, Ben whipped up the team, and
followed as quickly as he dared. As they broke into the open, Ben couldn’t see
any sign of Joe at all. Hoss didn’t hesitate to point out his brother. He
simply raced Buck to the river’s edge and threw himself from the saddle. It was
only then that Ben saw Joe.
A ragged gasp from behind
Ben told him that Adam had seen his brother, too, but Ben had eyes for no one
but Joe at that moment. He drew the wagon to a halt and jumped down to kneel by
Joe on the bank where Hoss had just laid him.
For a horrid instant, Ben
thought Joe was dead. Then he detected the almost imperceptible rise and fall
of Joe’s chest and his fingers sought Joe’s wrist to feel his pulse. “He’s
alive!” Ben exclaimed.
“Barely,” Hoss grunted. He
grabbed the blankets from the back of the wagon as Ben began to strip off Joe’s
soaking clothing. Joe was so cold that he was no longer shivering. His flesh
was tinged slightly blue and his fingers and toes were all wrinkled.
Before long, Joe was warmly
wrapped in blankets and Hoss carried him to the back of the wagon. Adam climbed
down and made his way up to the wagon seat, feeling guilty that he had allowed
Joe to go off alone to get help. “Is he badly hurt?” he asked, as Hoss hitched
Buck to the back of the wagon and Ben pillowed Joe’s head on his lap.
“Looks like it,” Hoss
nodded. He jerked his head to the slope above them and for the first time, Adam
saw the signs of someone sliding down it. “Looks like he might have broke his
legs,” Hoss went on. “An’ maybe his arm, too. His head’s bin knocked about, as
well.”
“This is my fault,” Adam
lamented.
“No its not!” Ben denied.
“Joe will be fine when we get him home and warmed up.” Ben crossed his fingers
and said a prayer that Joe would be fine. He could feel a little warmth
creeping back into his son’s body and he pulled off his coat and draped that
over Joe, too. Joe had not moved, nor made a sound since they had found him.
Ben was more worried than he cared to admit. There were dark bruises all over
Joe’s body and Ben was terrified that the bruises indicated broken ribs, which
might cause more injuries. The blood on Joe’s head might indicate a fractured
skull. Even though he didn’t want to think of what might be wrong with Joe, Ben
couldn’t stop his mind enumerating each possibility. “We’ve got to get him
home!”
*****************************
The journey seemed
interminable. Ben kept his place on the wagon to allow Hoss to ride for the
doctor. Adam protested that he could have done it, but Ben wasn’t having any of
that. “You were hurt, too,” he chided Adam. “And I need you to sit with Joe.”
By now, Joe was warmer, but
he still hadn’t regained consciousness. Occasionally, he mumbled something, or
groaned when the wagon hit a bump, but apart from that, he had shown few signs
of life. Ben was unable to articulate his worry, even to himself. To admit to
his fears would be to validate them.
Cradling Joe’s head in his
lap, Adam found himself praying hard. Joe had been injured going to get help
for him. He was the older brother. He should have insisted that Joe stay and
they could have made for home together. He knew Joe had had a bad knock on the
head – a worse knock than he, Adam, had had. Yet Joe had somehow been able to
pull himself together and set off for home. Where had that protective instinct
come from?
“Wake up, Joe!” Adam begged
in an undertone. “You’ve got to wake up!”
At last, the ranch came
into view and Adam breathed a sigh of relief. Fred and a couple of other hands
came to help the Cartwrights get into the house and to tend to the team. Ben
carried Joe inside and laid him carefully on the bed. Then there was nothing
else they could do but wait.
They didn’t have to wait
for long. Paul Martin appeared a short while later and set about examining Joe with
a grim expression on his face. “Joe’s got a sprained wrist,” Paul began,
pointing to Joe’s right hand. “And a head injury, as you knew. I’m pretty sure
he’ll have a fairly bad concussion, but until he’s conscious, I won’t know how
bad it is. His right leg is broken just below the knee and his left ankle is
broken. Apart from that, he’s still rather cold. Could we get hot bricks up to
help him warm up?”
“Hop Sing is already
heating them,” Ben told him, his voice flat. “Paul…Joe will be all right, won’t
he?”
“I hope so,” his friend
replied, soberly. “But he’s had a couple of good wallops on the head, Ben and
you know the dangers as well as I do.” At that moment, Hop Sing arrived with
the hot bricks, which were tucked at Joe’s feet and by his stomach.
For a time, there was
silence, as Paul worked on Joe’s injuries. But after a while, Joe began to
groan steadily and Ben moved closer, reaching down to brush the curls off Joe’s
head. “Joe?” he questioned, softly. “Can you hear me, son? Open your eyes, Joe.”
He continued to coax Joe to
waken and at last he was rewarded as Joe’s eyes slowly opened and he looked
blearily at Ben. He seemed confused. “Adam…” he breathed. “Adam… hurt.”
“Easy, son,” Ben soothed.
“Adam’s just fine. We found him.”
“Good,” Joe breathed and
his lashes dipped again.
“Not so fast, young man!”
Paul chided him. “You can’t go back to sleep. Joe, look at me.”
Reluctantly, Joe opened his
eyes again. He licked his dry lips and Ben looked at Paul for permission before
he gave Joe some water. As the youth started to gulp it eagerly, Paul hastily
reached over to stop him. “Not too fast, Joe, you’ll be sick.”
Blinking, Joe forced a
question. “Is that why… I was sick… before?”
“When?” Paul asked.
Slowly, Joe explained. Paul
nodded soberly. He didn’t like to tell Joe the danger he had been in. “You were
lucky those cramps weren’t any worse,” he told him. “That was the wrong thing
to do, Joe, and I’m sure you realise that now.”
“I was so thirsty,” Joe
whispered.
“I know,” Paul agreed. “But
drinking too much too quickly is bad for you. Did you have blurred vision and
start sweating?”
“Yes,” Joe agreed. He had
started to nod, but the movement made his head spin and he was nauseous enough
already.
“You were lucky,” Paul reiterated.
“You could have done more than just chill your stomach.” He bent closer to Joe
to look into his eyes and he asked a few more questions. “Well, your concussion
isn’t as bad as I had feared,” he concluded. “Joe, next time, wait to be
rescued.”
Smiling, Ben shook his head
as he caught Joe’s eye. “Joe doesn’t know what the word ‘wait’ means,” he
joked, relief flooding his soul as he realised his son would be all right.
****************************
As soon possible, Adam
insisted that Roy Coffee be brought to the ranch so that Adam could tell him
who it was that had held them captive. He explained to
But somehow that didn’t
seem enough to Adam. He pestered
“
“I’m not that bad!” Adam
retorted, startled by the comparison.
“No?” Ben questioned and
Adam reluctantly smiled.
“All right,” he allowed,
ungraciously. “I suppose you’re right. But it’s so frustrating!” Adam spun
around and started pacing. “He shouldn’t be able to just get away with this.”
“I agree,”
***************************
Adam’s frustration was
destined to go unrelieved. Thatcher seemed to have disappeared. Joe made a
quick recovery from his injuries, but it was a few months before he was back to
work. By then, they were into the quiet months of the winter, which allowed Joe
more opportunity to rest when he felt he needed to, without worrying about the
work falling behind. Ben was pleased and relieved to see his son making such a
good recovery.
By spring, no one would
ever have known that Joe had been so badly injured. He was as energetic as
ever, relieved to be out of the house after a winter cooped up by snow storms.
It was with a feeling of mild relief that Ben waved all three of his sons off
as they headed for
The trip there was uneventful
and they checked into their hotel just before a major rainstorm hit. They went
to sleep that night listening to the rain battering off the windows and woke to
the same sound.
“What a rotten day,” Joe
grumbled over breakfast.
“So we’ll get a bit wet,”
Adam replied impatiently. “So what? We get wet often enough at home.”
“Doesn’t mean to say I have
to like getting wet, does it?” Joe retorted. “I hate getting wet.”
“Oh stop moaning,” Adam
snapped. “We’re all in the same boat here.” The two brothers glared at each and
Hoss heaved a martyred sigh.
“If’n ya two are gonna
fight, I’m gonna knock yer heads together,” he warned them. “Ain’t none o’ us
likes gettin’ wet, but there ain’t nuthin’ we c’n do ta change the weather.”
“You’re right,” Adam
conceded and Joe nodded. “Joe, you go on over to the Cattle Association offices
and I’ll meet you there when I’ve dropped the bid into the railroad offices.
Hoss…”
“I know,” Hoss sighed.
“I’ll go an’ check on the horses an’ git provisions for goin’ home.”
“You can do the negotiating
if you want,” Joe protested, not wanting his middle brother to feel left out.
“No way!” Hoss declared
vehemently. “I ain’t doin’ that! You two is more than welcome ta it!”
“Why you…!” Joe cried, as
he realised that Hoss had been teasing them.
Grinning, Hoss rose to his
feet and put one hand on Joe’s head, keeping his mock-irate little brother at
arm’s length. Adam watched them tussle for a minute before they both gave up,
grinning, and resumed their seats. The other patrons in the dining room were
watching them, either with disgust or amusement. “Are you quite finished?” Adam
asked, trying to sound disapproving, but neither brother rose to the bait.
“Guess we’d better go if’n
ole Adam here’s gettin’ sarcastic,” Hoss confided to Joe.
“Good idea,” Joe agreed and
the brothers left the hotel in complete amity, something that hadn’t been the
case a short time before. Adam wondered how Hoss always knew just what to do to
break up a potential quarrel between him and Joe.
They went their separate
ways, with Adam going over to the railroad office and Joe heading further down
the street to the Cattle Association offices. The rain was keeping people off
the streets, so Joe didn’t have to do too much dodging of ladies with
umbrellas, but the town was still busier than
It took a moment for him to
realise who the other man in the room was, and as it sank in, Joe made a
belated grab for his gun. But he was too late, and he found himself looking into
the barrel of a .45, and the man holding it was none other than Ted Thatcher.
“I thought sure I’d never
see ya again, kid,” Thatcher drawled. “Drop that gun belt real slow an’ put yer
hands up.”
“What are you doing here?”
Joe asked, as he slowly did as he was told.
Grinning tightly, Thatcher
replied, “I’m robbin’ these here offices. Plenty money kept in the safe back
there, kid. Is some o’ it yours?”
Ignoring the question,
Joe’s eyes turned to the door that hid the inner office. What would he find if
he went in there? Bodies? He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth. “Have
you killed them?” he asked and was pleased to hear that there wasn’t a quiver
in his voice.
“They ain’t dead yet,”
Thatcher replied. “’Course, that don’t mean they won’t die.”
“Now what?” Joe wanted to
know. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Good question,” mused the
other. “I ain’t decided.” He gave Joe a wolfish smile. “I enjoyed makin’ ya
squirm last time we met,” he added. “Perhaps I’d like ta do that again.” He
reached into the pocket of his shabby coat and Joe heard metal jingling against
metal. Thatcher pulled something from his pocket and threw it at Joe. “Put
those on, kid.”
Instinctively, Joe caught
the object and discovered that it was handcuffs. He looked up to meet Thatcher’s
eyes and saw the cruel killer looking back at him. At that moment, Joe knew
that Thatcher wanted him to refuse, so he could shoot Joe dead. Gritting his
teeth, Joe clasped the first metal bracelet around his wrist.
“Boy, you learned your
lesson real well, kid!” Thatcher sneered. “Now, fasten yer hands behind ya.
Turn around so’s I c’n see ya doin’ it. I don’t trust ya.”
“You don’t trust me?” Joe
gasped. He was shaken by the man’s audacity and sheer cheek. Nevertheless, he
did as he was told and turned around, fastening the other cuff so his hands
were behind his back. “Satisfied?” he demanded.
“Hmm,” Thatcher replied,
and came over to tighten the cuffs. Joe bit back a wince as the cold metal bit
into his skin. Did Thatcher really think that he was going to get out of those
cuffs? He whirled Joe around and studied his helpless captive for a moment
before dropping his gun into his holster.
“Now what?” Joe asked
again.
“Sit down,” Thatcher
invited him, indicating a sturdy, straight-backed chair. As Joe did what he was
told, Thatcher took down the velvet cords that were decorating the curtains in
the room. Moving behind Joe, he used one to tie Joe’s already bound hands to
the back of the chair and then swiftly knelt to bind the young man’s ankles together.
Rising, he looked with satisfaction on Joe’s fury and frustration. Then he drew
a bandanna from his pocket and another from around his neck. Joe recoiled as
far as he could, but he couldn’t get far enough away to escape the other man
and a couple of backhand slaps left him too dazed to resist and Thatcher soon
had Joe gagged, too.
Now completely satisfied,
Thatcher turned to head for the door just as it began to open. Joe let out a
warning yelp that got no further than his teeth, but Adam didn’t need Joe’s
warning. The first thing he saw as the door opened was his little brother,
bound and gagged, and any further warning was superfluous. Adam drew his gun
and dived into the room.
Caught by surprise, Thatcher
let off one wild shot, which missed entirely, and made a dive for Joe. Adam
checked himself, not willing to risk shooting in Joe’s direction, just in case
he missed. He advanced further into the room, looking as menacing as Joe had
ever seen him. “Put your hands up!” Adam ordered Thatcher. “It’s all over.”
“No its not!” Thatcher
declared and grabbed at Joe, who wrenched himself out of the grip on his
jacket. Infuriated, Thatcher swung his gun round and hit Joe with the barrel on
the side of the head. With a grunt, Joe collapsed in his seat.
Taking advantage of his
quarry’s distraction, Adam threw himself across the remaining space between
them and tackled Thatcher around the waist, bearing him to the floor. The fall
sent small rivers of pain through Adam’s bad back, but he ignored them as best
he could, wrestling for control of Thatcher’s gun.
From somewhere above and
behind him, Adam heard a shout, but he ignored it, concentrating on the man
beneath him. The fight was beginning to go against Adam when a hand reached
down and grabbed Thatcher’s arm. Moments later, another arm appeared from the
other side, and took control of the gun. A third set of hands helped Adam to
his feet.
Suddenly exhausted, Adam
leant heavily against Hoss, who was supporting him. “Ya all right, Adam?” Hoss
asked, worriedly.
“Fine,” Adam panted. “Joe?”
He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and looked at his younger brother. Joe was
still bound and gagged, but he was moving his head slightly.
Galvanised by the sight,
Adam shrugged off Hoss’ hands and hurried over to remove the gag from Joe’s
torn mouth and to begin working loose the cords that bound him. “Joe?” he
called. “Joe? Wake up.”
Groggily, Joe’s eyes
drifted open and he peered blearily at Adam. “What…?” he muttered and winced.
“My head,” he breathed.
“Stay still,” Adam advised
him. “You got quite a crack from that pistol.”
“Thatcher,” Joe murmured
and started to struggle against the handcuffs.
“Dadburnit, Joe, stay still
an’ let me git these things off ya,” Hoss chided him. “How’m I meant ta do that
if’n yer wrigglin’?”
“Hoss?” Joe asked,
squinting at his brother. “How’d you get here?”
“Good question,” Adam
noted, helping his brother sit up as Hoss finally released the handcuffs,
thanks to the key the sheriff was carrying.
“I heard someone shoutin’
in the street that they’d heard shots comin’ from here,” Hoss explained, gently
taking Joe’s head in his hands to look more closely at the red/purple bruise
growing on his temple. “I followed the sheriff an’ when I saw ya were both in
trouble, I jist stepped in ta help.”
“Everyone all right here?”
the sheriff asked, coming over.
“I think Joe needs to see a
doctor,” Adam replied, before Joe could draw breath to say that he was fine.
“What about the people in there?”
Joe asked, gesturing towards the inner office. “Are they…?”
“They’ll probably be all
right, in time,” the sheriff replied. “I’m afraid they’ll have priority over
you in the doctor stakes, though.”
“I don’t mind,” Joe
mumbled, which brought laughter to both his brothers’ lips. “What?” Joe
demanded, looking at them with as much indignation as he could muster through
the thumping of his head.
************************************
“So Thatcher is behind bars
and facing a hanging,” Adam concluded.
“How odd that you should
meet him in
“Quite sure,” Joe replied,
firmly. He knew that the bruise on his head was at its most colourful, but his
headache was gone at last. “I feel fine,
“Good,” Ben replied. He
glanced at Adam. “Are you satisfied now?” he asked.
“Yes, I am,” Adam replied.
“It’s a relief to know that Thatcher isn’t wondering around out there
somewhere.” He smiled at Hoss. “I don’t remember when I was last so glad to see
Hoss.”
“You weren’t the only one
what wanted ta see him behind bars,” Hoss replied. “I wanted that too, fer what
he done to ya and Joe.”
“It makes you think,” Joe
mused. “No wonder those men in the bible story of the Good Samaritan didn’t
want to help the man beaten by robbers. Who knew what might have befallen
them?”
“And will you follow their
example from now on?” Ben asked. “Pass by on the other side?”
“You know I couldn’t, Pa,”
Joe replied, slightly impatiently. “I don’t regret going to help. That’s not
just the way you brought us up, it’s the way I am. If someone needs help, I’ve
got to offer it and do what I can.”
“I do know that,” Ben
agreed. “And I’m very proud of all my boys.” He gave them all a smile. “Now, tell
me, what kind of price did you get for the cattle in the end?”
At once, Joe sat up a bit
straighter and a grin spread over his handsome features. “Pa, they were so
grateful that we’d stopped Thatcher getting away with the money that they gave
us a really great deal!” he cried enthusiastically. “You’ll never believe it…”
he went on.
Ben smiled to himself.
Joe’s heart was in the right place, but he didn’t let that get in his way when
making a good business deal, he thought wryly. But when Joe mentioned how much
they were getting per head, he forgot his thoughts about Joe taking advantage
of the Cattle Association.
“Good work, son!” Ben
declared. “Why that’s the best price we’ve ever had!”
“Told you so!” Joe crowed
to his brothers.
The End.