What Doesn’t Kill Us
by Sheryl


“Hop Sing! There’s no way we can possibly fit all of that back in this wagon,” Ben Cartwright ranted, looking down at the small mountain of supplies that they were in the process of reloading. “I don’t know how we managed to do it the first time.” Ben tossed another bag to his middle son, who caught it and set it back in the wagon.

“It will fit,” Hop Sing replied, calmly.

“Did you leave anything in the store?” Ben asked for the second time, sounding perturbed, but continuing to load the supplies anyway.

“Shelby say she need extra flour and maple syrup for flapjack contest,” Hop Sing patiently tried to explain, again.

“Well, too bad Shelby wasn’t here to help us fix this wheel,” Ben said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “We’ll have to be sure to invite her along next time.”

“And Mrs. Greene ask for special wine, only get from valley.” He gestured to several wooden barrels set off to one side.

“Of course she did.”

“And Mrs. Orowitz ask for….”

“Okay, okay.” Ben cut him off and tossed another burlap bag to Hoss.  “We better start moving a little faster, son, or we’ll never make it home by nightfall.”
 
“It’s still early, Pa,” Hoss replied. “We’ll make it.”

“That is, if we don’t bust another wheel,” Ben retorted mostly for Hop Sing’s benefit.

Hop Sing shrugged, picked up the last bag and handed it to Hoss. “Coffee for Mr. Orowitz.”

The wagon creaked ominously when Hoss set the bag in back.

“That’s the same noise it made right before we left Placerville yesterday,” Hoss said with a frown.

“Don’t remind me,” Ben said climbing carefully into the seat.

Hoss situated himself on one of the stallions they’d just purchased, after making sure the other was secured to the wagon. “It sure will be nice to sleep in a bed tonight.”

“If we make it home, son,” Ben said, still sounding peeved. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.”

When Hop Sing started to climb onboard the wagon creaked again. “Carefully,” Ben chided. “Carefully.”

Hop Sing rolled his eyes and climbed a little more slowly.

“Well, off we go….” Ben snapped the reins and called out to the team. “Walk on.”

“All’s I know is that Little Joe best be keepin’ an eye on that pup of his,” Hoss called out to his father and Hop Sing.

“I’m sure he is, son,” Ben said with a certainty he didn’t quite feel.

“If not, I have recipe for special stew.”

Ben glanced at Hop Sing, noticing right away the unnerving gleam in his eye.  “Oh, Hop Sing,” he said with a nervous laugh. “You wouldn’t.”

Hop Sing raised an eyebrow, looking entirely like he would.

“Now, you’re both being unfair. Little Joe’s been trying very hard to keep an eye on that puppy and really, the pup hasn’t done that much damage,” Ben said as reasonably as he could manage.

“Crazy dog ruin my garden.”

“Yes, but Joe helped try to fix it though.”

“Try, not fix.”

“Ruin boots, belt, harness. Get into sack of flour. Chew hole in rug, legs of chairs, table….”

“Okay, okay! I get the point.” Ben laughed. “It’s a puppy. That’s what they do. I’m sure once he gets a little older he’ll be fine.”

“If not, I make special stew.”

“Will you stop saying that!”

Hop Sing shrugged and turned his head to smile at Hoss, who never could tell for sure whether the man was teasing or not.

 “My main concern,” Ben said hoping to change the subject, “is that Adam and Joe are doing alright back at the ranch.”

“Adam and Little Joe be fine,” Hop Sing said assuredly.

“If’n Adam hasn’t killed Little Joe by now,” Hoss interjected, “or that pup.”

“Now, Hoss --” Ben started, but stopped as he felt the back wheel wobble, then lurch. “Oh no,” he groaned, pulling back on the reins just as the wheel snapped and the wagon jolted. “Not again!”

“Awww!” Hoss moaned, making a face as he envisioned them unloading and reloading every single dadblamed thing in the wagon -- again. “Paaa…!”

Ben sat with his head in his hands.

Hop Sing held his finger up with an air of authority. “Ancient Chinese Proverb say: What does not kill us, make us stronger.”

Ben looked up, a grin spreading across his face then he burst into laughter. “Ancient Chinese proverb, huh?”

“Very ancient,” the oriental man replied with certainty, then glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Hoss.

Once again, Hoss had no idea whether the man was being serious or not.

_ _ _


“Little Joe!” Adam shouted, looking at his unread copy of the Alta California that lay shredded before him on the bedroom floor. “Get your tail in here!”

A moment later, Joe came barreling into the room with the prime suspect on his heels. Joe stopped in his tracks when he spotted the newspaper then looked up, wide-eyed, at his older brother. “How’d that happen?”

“How’d that happen?” Adam repeated, glaring at the puppy, who’d stopped a bit too short and was now sliding across the floor. Putting his hands on his hips, he turned the glare toward Joe. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Golly, I don’t know, Adam.”  Warily, Joe moved around his brother, picked up the puppy and held it protectively to his chest.

“What did Pa say about that pup getting into our things?” Adam questioned.

“That we should put our things up so’s the pup can’t get a hold of ‘em?” Joe answered, hopefully. Well, Pa had said that.

Adam narrowed his eyes. “He said it was your responsibility to keep an eye on that dog and keep him out of trouble.”

“I know!” Joe exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry! Okay?”

Adam wasn’t buying the weak attempt at apology. “I ought to make you take that dumb dog right back to that Indian camp.”

“He ain’t dumb!” Joe shouted, his temper flaring. “And, besides, you can’t make me take him back!”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

“You can’t!” Joe cried, rubbing his cheek against the puppy’s soft, fuzzy head. “You ain’t Pa!”

“Ain’t ain’t a word,” the older boy shot back. “And, I never said I was Pa, but when Pa sees this….” he gestured to the scraps on the floor. “You can say good-bye to that dog.”

“Aw, Adam….” Joe sniffled, his anger suddenly diminished, he looked up with pleading eyes. “Don’t tell Pa, please? I’ll pay ya back, I promise. I know the dog’s my responsibility. Sometimes it’s just hard to keep track of him.”

Adam felt his own anger fleeting, he couldn’t stand to see his little brother distressed. The puppy however had worn out his welcome days ago, in Adam’s opinion, so he wasn’t ready to give in so easily. “I know it’s hard, Little Joe, but if you love that dog, you better make sure you keep him out of trouble.”

“I will, Adam! I promise! And I promise to pay ya back.”

Adam tilted his head and smiled ruefully. “Oh yeah? Just how do you plan on doing that?”

“Well,” replied the younger boy, chewing his bottom lip as he thought. “I could do some extra chores. I don’t know, Adam. I’ll do anything…anything you want!”

Adam folded his arms, squinting at his brother as if trying to determine whether or not to accept the offer. “How about you start with cleaning up that mess right there,” he said, pointing to the floor.

Joe’s face brightened. “You got it!” Dropping to his knees, he set the puppy down and began gathering the scraps. Scout immediately pounced on the pile, his tail wagging enthusiastically. “No, boy!” Joe scolded, pulling him out of the mess and placing him aside. “No, no.”

“When you’re done with that, let me know and I’ll see what else I can find for you to do,” said Adam. “I’ll be outside.”

“Okay!” said Joe, batting the pup away once again and looking up with gratitude. “Thanks, Adam. I promise I’ll watch him better and….” He licked his lips, hesitating a moment. “I’m – I’m real sorry for yellin’ at ya.”

Adam nodded. “I know, little brother.” Since there was no longer a newspaper to read, he might as well just get back to work, he thought, grabbing an apple as he headed for the door.  

The moment Pa had informed him that Joe was staying at home, Adam’s hopes for a peaceful few days were pretty well dashed.  Pa had said that Joe needed to stay and keep an eye on the puppy, but Adam knew there was more to it than that. Pa wanted the two of them to spend some time together and try to work out whatever it was that had them at odds the past couple weeks.

For some reason, Adam couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly was making him so irritable toward Joe, or what it was that had Joe snapping at his every comment, lately.  Part of it was because of that pup, he surmised, mentally detailing every possession of his that bore fresh teeth marks – and that wasn’t counting the things that had been completely ruined, like his hard to come by San Francisco newspaper.

In all honesty, he also had to admit that he was feeling particularly resentful of the way that Pa always seemed to give into his youngest brother. Spoiled him rotten, in Adam’s opinion. If he or Hoss had brought home a puppy without asking, Adam had no illusions as to what would have happened to either one of them. And they had been twice as responsible as Little Joe when they were his age.

Yes, he thought, that boy’s had Pa wrapped around his little finger from the moment he was born. Adam picked up a log, set it on the tree stump and couldn’t help but smile as a familiar sounding voice in his mind drawled out the words, That’s a little like the pot callin’ the kettle black, wouldn’t ya say, son?

Well, maybe, he admitted, picking up the axe. But, still…there was another thing that seemed to be wearing on his nerves a lot these days. He raised the axe and brought it down, splicing the wood in two. He couldn’t stop dwelling on the feeling of excitement and adventure he’d had when he and Samuel had been preparing to flee to Canada. It had been…exhilarating. In spite of the circumstances, he’d never felt so…so free.

During that moment, getting Samuel to Canada -- saving the man’s life – had taken precedence over his responsibilities here at home. Samuel’s safety had been more important, right then, than his responsibilities to Pa, to help out around the ranch and take care of his littlest brother. Of course, now that it was over, he was feeling little twinges of guilt – guilt because he knew he should be feeling at least a little guilty for the elation he’d felt when he thought he was free of his responsibilities. And the truth of the matter was, he didn’t.

When he had been twelve, he’d been responsible for watching over his two younger brothers and keeping them out of trouble. In fact, it seemed he’d always been responsible for them. But Joe was twelve now, so why couldn’t he be responsible for himself and one little pup? Why did Pa expect so much more from Adam than he did from Hoss or Joe? It seemed totally unfair to him.

Of course, none of this was Joe’s fault, he reminded himself. Maybe that was the root of his problem, though. For the past couple weeks, he’d been taking out his frustration on Joe. And since he was contemplating injustice, he had to admit that in this instance he was the one being unfair.

He resolved to make it a point to set things right with his little brother and placed another log on the stump.  Pa had been right about his needing to think things through, he thought as he swung the axe down hard. He was at least starting to feel better about things.

Not that his yearning for adventure had waned any. He still wanted to see new places and experience new and different things. Perhaps in a few years, when his pa didn’t need him as much as he did now. But, he knew he’d always come back. For wherever his family was, that was home.

_ _ _


Joe stuffed the last bits of newspaper into the fireplace, then stood back and watched with satisfaction as all evidence of Scout’s misbehavior, not to mention his temporary lack of responsibility, were consumed by the fire.

Intending to go out and see what his brother had in store for extra chores, he pushed up his sleeves, and noticed that both his hands were black. He tried wiping them on his pants then added a little spit, but the mysterious grime remained. With a sigh of resignation, he went in search of some soap, hopefully that would do the trick.  It made no difference to him if his hands were dirty, since Pa was gone and he was only going to be doing chores. His older brother, however, was sure to come up with some far-fetched reason why folks should have clean hands all the time and Joe simply didn’t wanna hear it.

“Come on, Scout,” he called to the puppy who was already trouncing after him. “We best hurry so we can get outside and start payin’ Adam back.” Scout attacked his pant leg as he walked to the kitchen. Joe looked down, watching the puppy cling tenaciously as he was dragged along. Stubborn pup. “Why couldn’t you be a nice, quiet pup that never gets in trouble?” Joe asked aloud. Truth was though, he liked Scout just the way he was, although he had a feeling he was gonna be payin’ people back a lot over the next few months.

Thankfully, Pa hadn’t seen Adam’s newspaper today, especially after what Scout had done to Pa’s socks yesterday. He hoped his pa wouldn’t notice the missing socks and maybe, if he worked real hard and was real lucky, just maybe Adam wouldn’t feel the need to tell Pa about either incident. The truth was Pa was getting more than a little tired of hearin’ about all the stuff his pup chewed on.  Even Hoss was getting short tempered with the puppy and Hop Sing got a scary look in his eyes whenever Scout was around him. Thank goodness they’d all had a few days away. Maybe they’d all be in better moods tonight when they got home.

He walked outside, Scout following at his heels, and over to the block where Adam was splitting wood.  “Ain’t you cold?” he asked, shivering in spite of himself. There was a chilly breeze, making the temperature much cooler than yesterday had been. In Joe’s opinion, it was much too cold to go shirtless, even when the late afternoon sun peeked out from behind the clouds.

“Once you start working, you’ll warm up quick enough,” Adam said, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

Joe wasn’t too sure about that, but nodded anyway. He wasn’t gonna argue with his brother and take a chance that he’d change his mind about lettin’ Joe make up for the trouble Scout had caused.

“Start carrying some of this up to the house,” Adam told him. “Make sure you stack it properly too.”

Joe nodded and started gathering an armload of wood, forcing himself to hold his tongue. Did Adam think he was so dumb he didn’t know how to stack wood?  

Over the next couple hours, Adam continued to chop wood while Joe made trip after trip, stacking the wood neatly on the pile. Between that and his other chores, the afternoon passed quickly and in what seemed like no time at all they had what Joe figured had to be enough wood to last a whole year. The sun would be going down soon, he noticed. Pa would sure be surprised when he saw how big the woodpile had gotten. Joe waited until Adam was finished, then patted his brother’s bare arm before he could pick up another piece of wood. “Adam?” he said, gesturing to the huge pile. “Ain’t that enough?”

“Isn’t that enough,” he corrected, then smiled, set aside the axe and ruffled Joe’s hair. “Yeah, I’d say that’s enough to last awhile.” He looked around, scratching his head.  “Where’s my shirt?”

A feeling of dread tingled up Joe’s spine and he looked around for Scout. Oh no. He winced when he spotted the puppy, sprawled out beside the porch, gnawing away on Adam’s blue shirt like it was his favorite chew toy. It was too much to hope that Adam wouldn’t notice and Joe could bury the shirt or even better, take it out to the woods and then Adam would think a wild animal got a hold of it.

“That DOG!” Adam shouted, making Joe cringe. He stalked over to the puppy, kneeled down and tried to snatch the shirt away, but Scout held on, thinking it was a game and began growling and tugging back. “Let go, you stupid dog!”

Joe hurried over, wanting to at least attempt to defuse the situation. Adam was fit to be tied. Joe’d hardly ever seen him this mad before. No sooner had he knelt beside his brother and picked up the puppy, than the first bullet whizzed above their heads and thumped into the side of the house.

Adam frowned, caught off guard, but almost immediately his eyes grew wide and he turned his head toward the trees, looking exactly like a deer right before it was about to get shot by one of Pa’s arrows.  Before Joe could even begin to comprehend what was happening, two more bullets flew past them and Adam was in motion, grabbing him and hauling him across the porch and into the house.

Once inside, he set Joe down, slammed the door shut behind them, then locked it. “Get over by the hearth,” he ordered, breathing heavily.

Joe didn’t argue, he carried his puppy across the room and sat down, keeping his eye on Adam as he went to the cabinet and pulled out a shotgun.  “Wh-what’s goin’ on?”

“Someone’s shooting at us,” Adam explained, as if Joe hadn’t already figured out that much.

“I know that,” Joe snapped back. “But, who? Why?”

“I have no idea,” Adam replied, pulling the drawer open and rummaging around for the ammunition. “Just stay down.”

“What are you gonna do?”

Adam didn’t answer, he just cocked the gun, then sidled up to the window and cautiously peered outside. To Joe’s horror, the moment Adam looked out the window, the glass pane exploded, shattering and sending shards everywhere. “Adam!” he screamed, watching as his brother stumbled backwards, then crumpled to the floor.

Terrified and confused, he felt as if his heart was going to pound right through his chest. “Adam,” he called out again, but Adam didn’t answer. His brother had told him to stay down, but he had to do something. Setting the puppy on the floor, he crawled toward his brother, keeping an eye on the broken window. At the sight of his brother, Joe nearly froze. Adam’s head was bleeding – a lot and for a moment, Joe was afraid to get any closer, afraid to face the possibility that he was going to find that his brother was dead.

He glanced up at the window again. Pa had said they’d be back by suppertime and it was starting to get dark, why wasn’t Pa home yet? Who was out there? Who’d want to shoot at them? He was distracted from his thoughts by a low groan. Looking again at Adam, he was relieved to see him stirring and scooted up next to him. “Adam,” he whispered, shaking him gently. There was so much blood; he didn’t know how bad the injury was, but he knew that he needed to stop the bleeding. Quickly he removed his shirt, wadded it up and pressed it against the side of his brother’s head. Adam groaned again and tried to turn his head away from the pressure, but Joe held the shirt firmly in place.

Catching sight of the shotgun on the floor beside Adam, Joe again glanced to the window, wondering what he should do – what Adam would do.  Adam would be guarding the window, making sure that nobody got up to the house. What about the other doors, though?

“Joe.”

Joe nearly cried at the sound of his brother’s voice. “Adam?”

“Are…are the doors all locked?”

Somehow he managed to swallow back the sob that was trying desperately to escape his throat. “I-I’ll go check if…. Are you okay? Can you hold this?”

With his eyes still closed, Adam clumsily reached up toward the left side of his head and swallowed hard. “I-I think so.”  

Joe watched as Adam’s eyelids fluttered and a moment later, he was almost overwhelmingly relieved to find himself looking into a pair of familiar blue eyes. “You’re bleedin’ Adam.”

Adam gazed up at him speculatively, trying to gauge his little brother’s condition. “Head wound,” he said, wincing as he pressed against the area. “Always bleed a lot. Just a graze.” He swallowed again and reached out for Joe with his right hand. “You okay?”

Joe grasped his brother’s hand, nodded and looked back up at the broken window. He didn’t feel okay. Nothing felt okay. He wanted his pa; he wanted Hoss or Hop Sing; he wanted Adam to get up and be okay; he wanted this to be a bad dream so he could wake up and start the day all over again.

“Joe?” Adam tightened his grip on Joe’s hand.

Joe looked down, focusing on his brother.

“Everything seems quiet. I’ll watch the window,” Adam told him. “You go check the other doors. Make sure they’re locked and then…” he took a deep breath, “get the pistol.”

Scout whimpered and nosed his way in between the two brothers, then curled up against Adam. “It’s okay, boy,” Joe whispered. “You stay here with Adam.”

”Go on and be careful.”

Joe moved quickly, but cautiously and checked each door, thankfully finding them bolted securely. Then he went to the cabinet again and reached hesitantly for the forbidden pistol. Pa kept the bullets in the drawer; he never left loaded guns around the house. Joe had no idea what to do with the pistol, so he grabbed the bullets and a blanket and hurried back to Adam.

“Adam?” He shook his brother, finding his eyes closed again. “Adam? What should I do?” His brother groaned, but didn’t answer and his eyes remained closed. The house was mostly dark now except for the faint glow from embers in the fireplace.  Joe covered Adam’s bare torso with the blanket and placed the pistol next to him, then reached out and picked up the shotgun. At least he knew how to use this. He needed to get to the window and check outside. It seemed quiet out there. Maybe whoever had been shooting at them was gone.  Maybe the coast was clear and Joe could ride for help?

With the shotgun in one hand, he crawled over to the window, then sat up against the wall to check the gun – just incase. Taking several deep breaths, he tried to calm himself and gather the courage to look out the window.  He glanced at Adam once more, still unconscious and then at Scout who was lying beside Adam and -- oh geeze! Joe looked to Heaven -- chewing on Adam’s hat. Well, he could only hope his brother would be okay to yell at him about that later.

Then he got an idea.

Quickly he crawled over to the fireplace, picked up a few small pieces of kindling and placed them into the embers. A few moments later, the fire crackled and flared up slightly as he continued to poke around and feed it, hoping to keep it just barely going. Then he went to his brother and took a hold of the hat. Scout didn’t try and play tug o’ war, for once, he just whimpered and let go, then curled up in a little ball. “Adam’s gonna skin you alive,” he whispered fondly and patted the dog on the head before going back to crouch below the window. He hoped there was enough light from the embers to make this work. Placing the hat on the end of the shotgun, he lifted it up so it was in plain sight through the window. A moment later, he practically jumped out of his skin when the shooting began again.

Where was Pa? he wondered, then got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. What if his pa and Hoss and Hop Sing were dead? What if whoever was out there had already shot them? “Adam?” he called out softly, unable to keep his voice steady. “Adam?” But, Adam didn’t answer. What if Adam…?

It was getting so cold in the house that he could see his breath in the air, but Joe was sweating and shaking so hard he felt like he was going to come apart.

“Cartwright!” A voice called from somewhere outside. “I know I already got one of your boys!”

Joe swiped his hand across his nose, frowned and looked at Adam.

“If you know what’s good for ya, you’ll come out of there right now.”

The accent was familiar sounding, but Joe couldn’t quite put his finger on where he’d heard it before.

“You come out of there and I’ll think about lettin’ the rest of ya live.”

Maybe his pa wasn’t dead? If his pa was okay, then he would be comin’ home soon, he realized, but his relief was short lived. If they all come home now, they’ll get shot before they make it into the yard. He had to do something, had to think of something fast.

“You get me that slave, like the law says and I’ll be on my way and nobody else’ll get hurt.” The man shouted again. “Seems to me the decision should be easy as pie.”

Starks. The man’s name was Starks. When he’d been here before, he’d had someone else with him. How many men were out there waiting out in the brush for his pa? He thought about just standing up and shooting in the general direction the voice seemed to be coming from, but that seemed a little too risky since they were watching this window.  

Adam groaned again. Joe hurried over to him and pressed his shirt against the wound. His brother needed doctorin’, but since that wasn’t going to happen for awhile, Joe needed to get the wound cleaned so it didn’t get infected. He glanced at the window, then at Scout who was curled up in the crook of Adam’s arm. Keeping as low as he could, he made his way to the kitchen to see what he could find to help Adam.

In the kitchen, he found some rags and the soap and water he’d used when he’d washed up earlier.  Very carefully, he peered out the window, but couldn’t see anyone out there. He went back to his brother and gingerly began cleaning away the blood. Then he placed a makeshift bandage on the wound and wrapped a long strip of cloth around his head, trying to make it tight so it would stay in place, then he tied the ends as best as he could. Adam didn’t stir the whole time, which made Joe more afraid than ever.

Once finished, he sat back on his heels and looked again at the window. He needed to do something. He couldn’t just sit here and let his family get killed. Maybe…maybe he could go to the bunkroom and look through the window there, but still it was pretty dark out. Would he be able to get a good shot? Then another idea struck him. If he could get them to shoot again, maybe…?

Yes! He hurried to the bunkroom and peeked out the window, taking some small comfort that it was completely dark in the room. Hopefully, since they hadn’t fired off any shots from inside the house, the men outside would think they were unarmed, but still, he needed to be careful. He’d have to have just the right timing to pull this off.

“Joe.”

Joe heard his brother call for him and rushed back to his side. Adam reached up and pulled Joe’s face close to his. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” Of course he was okay, he wasn’t the one who was bleedin’ all over.

“I thought I heard more shots.”

 “You did,” Joe told him. “It’s that man, Starks. I don’t know who else is out there, but they want Pa. They’re still out there. But, listen, Adam, I have an idea!”

“An idea?”

“Yeah, but I need your help.”

“What’s the idea?”

Adam seemed a little out of it. Maybe he was de…delirious? Joe thought that was the right word. If Adam wasn’t thinking too clear, maybe there’d be a chance that he’d go along with his idea.

“I think we can get some shot off from the bunkroom, but we need to be able to see them and it’s dark out.” He waited for a moment to see if his brother was following his train of thought.

“Pa wouldn’t like it, Little Joe.”

Dang, he wasn’t as delirious as Joe was hoping.  “I don’t know what else to do Adam. You’re hurt and it’s cold in here and Pa and Hoss and Hop Sing might come home any minute and ride right into an ambush.”

Adam stared at the ceiling for several minutes, before licking his lips and turning his head slightly toward Joe. “Okay, keep going.”

“Well, I was thinkin’ if we could get ‘em to start shooting again, then we’d be able to see where they were, but we need to do somethin’ to make ‘em shoot.” If he said we instead of I, Adam would be more likely to consider his plan.

“Like what?” Adam asked apprehensively.

“Well, a little bit ago, when I wasn’t sure if they were still out there, I put your hat on the end of the gun and waved it in the window to see if they’d shoot.” Maybe Adam wouldn’t even have to know about Scout chewin’ on his hat.

“I think I understand,” Adam said. “Help me sit up.”

Joe helped his brother, but once he was upright, Adam groaned and put his hands to his head. “I’m a little dizzy, Joe. I don’t think I could shoot straight even if I could make it to the bunkroom.”

Joe opened his mouth to inform Adam that wasn’t part of his plan, but decided it might be better to keep going from there. “Can you make it over to the window?”

“Joe.”

“I’ll help you.”

“Joe, I don’t now about this….”

“Adam, we don’t have much choice, do we?”

Adam looked at him seeing two little faces filled with concern. He closed his eyes and chuckled. One Little Joe was hard enough for him to keep track of.

“Adam? Are you okay?”

“Where’s the pistol?”

“Right here,” said Joe, picking it up from the floor. “The bullets too, but I’ve never loaded one before.”

“Okay.” Adam took the pistol and ammunition from his little brother, then reached out for him. “Help me get over to the window.”

“Just a minute,” he said and hurried back to the fireplace, to rekindle the flames a bit. Then he grabbed the poker he’d been using, went back to his brother and helped him over to the window. After getting him settled against the wall and the blanket draped around him, he inspected the bandages as best he could in the darkness. Thankfully, the wound didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore. “Give me a couple minutes then hold this up,” he said, handing the poker and hat over to Adam.

Adam had his eyes closed again.

“Adam?”

“Joe, please…” Adam opened one eye, “please be careful.”

“I will,” he promised, letting out a sigh of relief. For a second he thought his brother wasn’t gonna let him go. “Here, take Scout.”

Joe set the puppy next to his brother then scurried to the bunkroom. He moved the curtain aside just enough so he could see out. He’d have to bust out the section of the window, but he needed to wait until there was some noise to cover the sound of breaking glass.  He focused on the wooded area before him, trying to make out any movement or sign of the men holding them there, but it was too dark.

What was taking Adam so long? he wondered, when after a few minutes everything remained quiet. He was just about to get up and go check on his brother when suddenly the gunfire erupted. He tapped the windowpane with the barrel of the rifle, hoping that nobody heard the glass falling outside, then looked as hard as he could. When his eyes had adjusted to the darkness he was able to make out a partial dark silhouette amongst the flashes of gunfire and he was pretty sure that he could still see a shadowy image for a bit even in the dark. He still couldn’t tell if there was more than one shooter, though. One thing was for sure, there was a lot of shootin’ goin’ on.

Little Joe said a quick silent prayer, asking that no matter what happened to him God would watch over is family and let his brother Adam be okay, then he steadied the rifle barrel on the windowsill and aimed carefully. When he saw the next round of sparks fly, he fired.
 
After he’d reloaded and emptied his barrel a few times, the shooting from outside stopped. Joe leaned against the wall, then slid down and closed his eyes, trying to listen for any sounds.

It was a while before he heard his brother calling out his name. Everything was still quiet. There’d been no more shooting from outside. Could it be over? Did they go away, or were they…dead?  

Hearing Adam call for him again, Joe forced himself to get up and go back to the other room. No matter how tired he felt he had to make sure his brother was all right.

“Adam?”

“Joe, I was afraid….” Adam coughed and Joe could see him reaching out. “Come here, little brother.” Joe hurried to his brother’s side and Adam wrapped a bare arm around him, protectively. “How are you doing?”

Joe snuggled against his brother’s chilled skin. “I’m fine. I think…I think we got ‘em.”

“Yeah.” Adam pulled him even closer, then placed a warm, furry creature in his lap. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

Scout wiggled happily and licked Joe’s nose, then settled down between him and Adam and went back to sleep. For a long time they just sat there, leaning against the wall staring into the darkness.

“I should build up the fire,” said Joe, after several minutes had passed. “It’s cold in here.”

“No, just…just stay here. We don’t know for sure if they’re,” Adam swallowed audibly,  “dead. We best just sit tight for a while longer.”

“Let me get the blanket, at least.” Joe leaned across Adam and retrieved the blanket that had fallen from his shoulders then draped it around him and crawled under. “Pa shoulda been home by now,” he said, looking out at the broken glass scattered all over the floor.

“He’ll be here soon,” Adam assured him. “Don’t worry.”

Joe might have fallen asleep for a few minutes, he couldn’t say for sure, but the next thing he was aware of was the sound of hooves beating across the yard and the creaking of the buckboard. Pa was home.

_ _ _


“Adam! Joseph!” Ben shouted, hopping down from the rig before it had come to a full stop. They’d heard the sound of gunfire in the distance and driven the team hard to get home as fast as they could. Ben could smell gunpowder lingering in the air, but now the ranch was quiet.

Too quiet.

He hurried to the door, but was cautious, motioning Hoss and Hop Sing to stay back as he entered the dark house. Once inside, he called softly to his eldest. “Adam?”

“Pa.”

Ben squinted, trying to make out the dark figure against the wall. “Adam,” he said, hurrying to the boy. “Son, what happened?”  

“It’s kind of a long story,” he answered shakily. “Right little brother?”

“Pa, I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Hoss, we need some light in here,” Ben called over his shoulder when he heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind him.

A short time later, both Hoss and Hop Sing were standing over them, Hoss holding a lantern. Ben’s stomach did a flip as he took in the sight of his injured son. “What on Earth….”

Hop Sing was unwrapping the makes-shift bandage and inspecting the wound before Ben even said a word. “Little Joe? You did this for your brother?” he asked, nodding to indicate the bandages.

“I tried to clean it, but it was dark. I couldn’t see too good.”

“You did very good, “ Hop Sing replied softly. After a minute or so, he stood. “I get some fresh bandages, you get him to his bed.”

Hoss and Ben helped Adam to his feet and Joe, with the puppy in his arms, stood as well. “Joseph,” Ben paused, cupping his youngest son’s face and turning it for inspection. “You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

“No, Pa.”

“You’re sure?” His gaze traveled up and down his son’s body, making sure no harm had been done.

“Yes, Pa.”

“You’re freezing, though,” he determined, putting his warm hands on Joe’s cool cheeks. “Can you do me a favor and put some logs on the fire so we can get this place warmed up?”

“Okay.”

Ben looked him over once more, before letting him go and moving alongside Adam. “Can you make it, son?”

“I’m feeling a lot better than I was,” Adam said, putting an arm around both his father and brother Hoss as they helped him slowly across the room. “It was that man, Starks,” Adam informed his father when they got to the bedroom. “You remember, the one who was after Samuel?”

Ben settled Adam on the bed and sat down on the edge. “Go help your little brother, please,” he told Hoss, hoping to convey his concern for the younger boy, then turned back to Adam. “I heard he was in town. That’s what took us so long to get home. That’s one reason, anyways,” he said glancing pointedly at Hop Sing who had just passed Hoss in the doorway.

Carrying a basin and pitcher of water, with towels draped over his arm, Hop Sing came over to them and set the basin down.  “We were at Washoe camp,” he said.

Ben took a wet cloth from Hop Sing and began cleaning what was left of the blood from Adam’s hair and the side of his head, neck and shoulder. “We thought for sure he’d headed out there to try to start some trouble.”  He accepted the alcohol from Hop Sing and poured some onto a fresh cloth.  

Adam hissed as his father dabbed at the wound. “Well, he definitely started trouble.”

“I’m sorry, son, I never thought he’d come here.” Suddenly Ben sat up straight, almost spilling the bottle of alcohol. “Where is he anyway? Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know, Pa. He might still be out there in the woods, maybe he’s injured…or dead. Maybe we scared him off.”

Ben nodded and handed the supplies to Hop Sing. “I better go out there and take a look.” Once standing, he added, mostly to himself, “I have the feeling this is gonna be a long night.”

“Ouch!” Adam pushed the cloth away. “That hurts!”

“Must get it clean,” Hop Sing responded, calmly.

“I know.” Adam frowned. “How’s it look?”

“It looks…” Hop Sing hesitated, then shook his head slowly and looked at Ben standing in the doorway. “It could have been much worse.”

“Yes,” Ben replied grimly. “I know.”

_ _ _


From the hearth, they watched their father light a lantern, then pick up his rifle and go out the front door. When the door closed, Joe looked up at Hoss with wide eyes. “Where’s he goin’?”

“I dunno. Maybe out to put the team away?”

“With a gun?”

Hoss shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

“What if…?” Joe stood quickly and handed Scout to his brother. “What if they’re still out there?”

“I don’t think anyone’s out there, Joe.”

“But, you don’t know.”

Hoss grabbed the boy before he could follow their pa outside. “Just sit down, little brother. Pa’ll be okay.”

“But….”

“Joe, you’re so jumpy, you’re makin’ me nervous,” he said, putting an arm across his brother’s small shoulders and plopping the dog back in his lap. “Now, just settle down.”

“But….”

“’sides,” Hoss continued. “You still need to get warmed up. You ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til you stop shiverin’.”

Joe sighed and began absently petting the pup, never taking his eyes off the door. A short time later, they heard hammering coming from the direction of their room. Pa must be fixing the window he’d broken, surmised Joe. Finally, after several long minutes of quiet their pa came back in. “I found him,” he said, setting the lantern on the bureau. “He’s dead.” Ben walked over to them, set the rifle on the mantle, sat down on the other side of Little Joe and patted Scout on the head. “Think you can tell me what happened tonight, son?”

Joe swallowed hard and nodded. “It was that slave catcher, Pa.”

“Yes, it was.”

“He was lookin’ for you.”

Ben nodded.

“He just started shootin’ at me and Adam when we was out on the porch. We didn’t even see him. When we got inside, Adam got the rifle and went to look out the window. That’s when Starks shot him.”

Ben took a deep breath. He wasn’t usually the type of man that believed in seeking vengeance, or even wishing it on another -- but in this case, God forgive him, he would have made an exception. How dare that man shoot at his children? Starks had gotten exactly what he deserved. He only hoped that this time Adam would be better equipped to deal with the fact that he’d taken another man’s life.  

“It’s a good thing that in his condition Adam was still able to handle the rifle,” said Ben, pulling his youngest closer to him.

“He’s really dead, Pa?” Joe looked up, a trace of fear in his eyes.

“Starks?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yes, yes, he’s really dead.” Ben watched his son closely.

“He’s really dead,” Joe repeated, and the color seemed to drain from is face.

“Son, everything’s going to be okay, now,” Ben assured. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I know, Pa,” Joe whispered to the floor.

Ben puzzled over the strange reaction, but finally decided not to push too hard, for the moment. “I want you to stay here by the fire for a little longer, while I go check on your brother,” he said, tipping Joe’s face up to be sure he had his attention. “Then, how about we get you all cleaned up and ready for bed?”

“Okay, Pa.”

“I can get help him get cleaned up, Pa,” offered Hoss.

Ben smiled at his middle son. “Thanks son, but I’d just as soon he sit here where it’s warm for a little longer. I’d appreciate it if you’d sit here with him until I get back, though.”

“’course I will, Pa.”

_ _ _


Ben walked into the boys’ room and stood behind Hop Sing, watching over his shoulder as he re-bandaged his son’s head. “How’s he doing?”

“I think he will be okay.”

Adam smiled up at his father. “I’m just a little tired, Pa.” He yawned to make his point then grimaced and reached for his head. “And my head feels like it was stomped on by a bull.”

“I can imagine. Did you lose consciousness, son?” Ben asked, concerned as to how close an eye they’d need to keep on him during the night.

“Pa, I hate to say it, but I was unconscious practically the entire time. How’s Little Joe?”

“He’s a bit shaken up, but that’s to be expected after what you two have been through.”

“Did you find Starks?”

“Yes.” Ben smiled his appreciation when Hop Sing stood and picked up the supplies allowing him to sit next to Adam. “Starks is dead,” he added reluctantly

 “I figured so.” Sighing, he relaxed back into the pillow and closed his eyes. “Oh, Pa.”

“Now son, before you get yourself all worked up, I want you to know that under the circumstances, there’s nothing else you could have done. You had no choice but to shoot that man.”

“Pa, you don’t….”

“You did the only thing you could to protect yourself and your little brother.”

“But, you don’t understand….” Adam said quietly.

“I do understand, son. It’s a hard thing to accept and live with. We’ve talked about this before. I know how you’re feeling.”

“No, Pa….” Adam looked past his father, to the doorway where his youngest brother stood, white-faced. “Joe.”

“Joe?”

“Pa.” Hands in his pockets, shirt stained with blood, Joe walked slowly across the room to his father. “It wasn’t Adam who shot that man.”

“What?”

“It was me,” Joe said flatly. “I killed that man, Pa.”

“I was shooting grandfather’s pistol from the front window,” Adam said. “Trying to create a diversion, so Joe could get a shot from the bunkroom.”

“I shoulda known it was you!” Joe exclaimed in sudden realization. “I knew there must have been more ‘n one person, but I didn’t think it was you.”

Adam reached for Joe’s hand. “Thanks, buddy. That was some plan you came up with,” he said with sincerity. “You probably saved all of us tonight.”

Joe blushed and looked down at the floor.  “I was so scared for you, Adam. I kept tryin’ to think of what to do…what you’d do if you were okay.”

Adam squeezed his hand then pulled him into his arms. “I’m so proud of you, Joe,” he whispered.

Ben sat with a puzzled expression on his face, trying to let this latest information sink in. It was Little Joe who shot Starks? Little Joe who refused to shoot a deer? When Adam released Joe, Ben drew him near. “Son, is there anything else you need to tell me?”

Joe opened his mouth and began to answer, then closed it and frowned.

“Joseph?” Ben prompted, placing a hand on the boy’s cheek and turning his face toward him.

“I didn’t want to shoot him, Pa. But, I-I was real scared about Adam,” Joe said quietly. “At first, I kept prayin’ you’d get home, ‘cause you’d know what to do, but then I got scared that if you did come home then that man would shoot you too. And…and I couldn’t let him do that.”

Ben could feel his anger threatening to rise again. That anyone would terrify his child this way, to put him through a night like the one he’d just endured. It was unthinkable to him. He forced his anger down; his boys needed him calm and rational right now.

He wanted to ask Joe how he felt about having to take another man’s life, but he already had a good idea. He wanted to be sure that Joe would be all right, that he knew he’d done the right thing – the only thing -- but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. How do you ask an innocent, twelve-year-old child a thing like that?

Adam cleared his throat and looked intently into his little brother’s eyes. “How do you feel about that man being dead?”

Joe let out a long, shuddery breath. “Well, I guess I haven’t thought about it too much, ‘til now. At the time, I didn’t think about anything except that I had to make him stop.”

“And you did,” assured Ben.

“Yeah, and Pa,” Joe put a hand on his pa’s arm and looked him straight in the eye, “I’d do it again if I had to.”

Ben nodded. His little boy had been forced to make a man’s decision and he seemed to understand and accept the effects of that decision. It was enough, for now. They would all be there for Joe in the days ahead, to help him through any difficulties that might arise. “If you need to talk about anything, son, anything at all….”

“I know, Pa,” he replied earnestly.

Placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders, Ben looked at him seriously, man to man. “I want you to know that I’m proud of the way you handled this situation, son. I don’t think any of us could have done a better job.”

Joe’s eyes went wide. “Honest, Pa?”

“Honest.”

Joe beamed at his father. “Thanks.”

“Well,” he said, pulling the boy in for a quick hug. “I think my baby’s growing up.”

“Pa.”

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” Adam agreed with a grin.

“I’m not a baby.”

“No, son, you’re not. You’re turning out to be a fine young man.”

“Now, I wouldn’t go that far,” a voice from the doorway interjected.

“Hoss,” Joe whined.

Ben chuckled, then looked at each of his sons and sighed. “It’s a hard thing.”

“What is, Pa?” asked Adam.

“To accept that your children are growing up.”

For a moment, everyone was silent, reflecting the meaning of their father’s words as it applied to each of them.

Joe broke the silence. “But, even when we’re all grown up, we’ll still be your children, right, Pa?”

“Of course we will,” insisted Hoss, who was now seated at the end of Adam’s bed.

“And you’ll always be our pa,” Joe added with certainty.

“Always, son.” Ben pulled his youngest to his chest and this time hugged him fiercely, indulging himself in the simple act of holding his youngest child, knowing that he would be allowed to do so less and less frequently over the next few years. He wanted to imprint the moment into his heart and mind so he would always have it with him. Children grow up too fast, he thought mournfully.

“What’s wrong, Pa?” Joe asked, pulling back to look into his father’s bright eyes.

“Nothing, son. I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how thankful I am for my children,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Even if they are growing up a little too quick.”

“At least some of us are,” said Adam, eyeing Joe with affection.

“Aw, I don’t know about that Adam,” teased Hoss. “Little Joe here’s got a few years of growin’ left on him. Besides,” Hoss reached over and tousled Joe’s hair, “no matter how big he gets, he’ll always be our baby brother.”

“I’m not a baby!” Joe glared at him indignantly, then looked to his father for justification.

But, Ben was too busy chuckling.

“Pa!”

Ben tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to wipe the grin off his face and give his middle son a stern look.  “Hoss, it’s not nice to call your brother a baby,” he said with all the authority he could muster. Then, to Joe’s dismay, he added, “Only his father can do that.”

“Pa!”

In one swift movement, Ben scooped the boy off his feet and cradled him in his arms. “You might as well get used to it, son, ‘cause you’ll always be my baby.”

~ The end
(12/11/02)

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