A Good Man

By

Charlee Ann Baker

(half.tilt@verizon.net)

February 2005

Disclaimer: I do not own the Cartwrights, but they do linger in my mind readily available whenever I choose to imagine. My thanks to David Dortort for creating the Cartwright family.

Note: My thanks to Gwynne L. for her kind offer to beta this story. I appreciate so much her willingness to share her expertise in the fine art of writing stories.

Chapter 1

I had no sooner stepped into the barn when I heard sixteen-year-old Hoss call out my name. His tone indicated that he was overly glad to see me. Since I had just seen him at breakfast no more than twenty minutes ago, that made me come a little more alert than I would normally be on a hot end-of-August morning such as today. Having younger brothers like Hoss and Little Joe will do that to a man.

I had gotten up at the crack of dawn, as I normally do, and had completed all of my own chores before breakfast. It was Friday, and I had plans today that did not include helping Hoss or ten-year-old Little Joe with either their chores or their many misadventures. I had worked hard for too many days in a row, and I had more than earned today off to spend any way I pleased.

Today it pleased me to meet Ross Marquette in town to see what we could scare up in the way of fun. Ross and I were both 22 years old. We thought alike, and the ladies were never far from our minds. He had started keeping company with a pretty brunette, named Delphine, but it hadn't turned serious yet, and Delphine had not yet returned from a visit with relatives in Arizona. I, on the other hand, loved a girl named MaryAnn, but she had up and moved to San Francisco. I knew I wouldn't get a chance to see her again until next summer.

So, with our blood running hot in our veins and with honesty in our hearts, Ross and I had declared ourselves to be fair game this fine summer day.

I glanced toward the corner of the barn where I had heard Hoss call out my name and saw him start toward me with Fluffy, our barn cat, held out in front of him. First of all, I would never have named a cat 'Fluffy'. I would never have named anything 'Fluffy'. But this cat came to live with us as a kitten when Little Joe was about six years old, and he insisted on being the one to name her. Well, we let him have his way, and now the name of that cat is his burden to bear.

My youngest brother doesn't bear burdens well. In fact, he doesn't bear them at all. Now that he's ten years old, he suddenly stopped calling Fluffy by her name as if the name had never existed. See what I mean about burdens? Like water off a duck's back. He now just calls her ‘Cat’, like I have done from the very beginning and like any red-blooded Cartwright male with any sense would.

Hoss is the only one who calls that cat by her real name now. He doesn't seem to have any problem yelling out 'Fluffy' in front of God and everybody. That's just the way he is. I, on the other hand, am a man with pride, so 'Cat' she is and 'Cat' she shall remain.

It was too late to back out of the barn and pretend I hadn't seen or heard Hoss. He was already walking toward me with a stricken, mournful look on his face. A sense of tragedy reflected in his startling blue eyes. When my middle brother is sad, he is sad all the way down to his very bones.

“Ahhhh, Adam, look what's happened ta Fluffy. It looks like she's been inna terrible fight. One ear's all tore up and just look at her leg. It's all…mangled.”

Hoss proffered the cat to me as if he expected me to take it. I backed away. My middle brother is always dragging wounded animals home to nurse back to health, and he expects anyone who happens to be drifting by to assist. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but I didn't want to take Cat either. It isn't that I don't like animals. I do. I just don't like to patch up wounded ones. Blood and open wounds on small animals make me squirm. It's too easy to hurt them more by trying to help them.

I used my usual line of defense. “Make Joe do it.”

Hoss's face took on a disgusted look. “That little varmint talked Pa inta lettin' him go off and visit one of his friends today. He ain't gonna wanna take the time ta help before he leaves.”

It doesn't take much to figure out Hoss's feelings. Every single emotion he has ever felt has shown itself on his broad face and in those blue eyes of his. There isn't anyone on this round earth who can look into his tragedy-stricken face and just walk away. That includes me. I didn't stand a chance, and I knew it.

I blew out a soft sigh of defeat. “All right, Hoss, I'll help you fix her up.” I already knew my only job was to hold Cat, so she couldn't scratch either of us while he tended to her wounds. Hoss always does the doctoring.

As I held onto Cat to soothe and keep her calm, I noticed she had a little more bulk to her than was normal.

“Look how rounded Cat is, Hoss. I think she's going to have another batch of kittens.”

“Litter of kittens, Adam. Litter. Ya make it sound like she's gonna have cookies.”

A quick laugh spilled out of me. I looked at him and replied, “Aw, now Hoss, don't go getting all technical on me. I don't think Pa could stand it if two of his sons insisted on using correct speech.”

True to his nature, he flashed me a grin before shifting his attention back to bandaging Cat's leg. He waited until he was almost finished before he spoke again.

“Ya kin have the honor of usin' correct speech, Adam. Jus' remember somethin'. When I talk, there ain't nobody don't understan'.”

He was right about that. No matter how much he mangled a sentence, I always knew what he meant. Without using more words than were needed, my middle brother could convey the deepest and most heartfelt thoughts of anyone I ever knew.

I told him I liked the way he talked. I meant it too. I had stopped correcting his speech a long time ago, right after he finally got bigger than me and beat me up in the barn to prove it. Once I realized there was nothing I could do about it, I came to recognize and appreciate the honesty and straightforwardness in the way he talked. Hoss and I have always known where we stood with each other, and I like the comfort of knowing.

He briefly glanced my way again.

“Yeah, I noticed that bulge. Hope she ain't hurt nowheres 'sides her ear and leg. I saw a bobcat close ta the barn twice this month. It ran off on its own the first time, and I threw a rock at it the second time. I hope Fluffy knows better than ta tangle with a bobcat.”

“Why didn't you shoot it?”

He threw me a disgusted look. “Aw, it weren't hurtin' nothin'. 'Sides, I just figured it was passin' through.”

“Just so you know, you’ll be the one who has to deal with Hop Sing if that bobcat gets into his chicken coop.”

“Aw, it ain’t gonna come back. You think too much.”

I let that remark slide right on past me.

After we had finished with Cat, I saddled Sport and was all set to head off to town when Pa came into the barn.

“Adam, I know you've earned the day off, but I need you to do a small favor for me first.”

I stiffened up. Sometimes Pa's idea of the nature of a favor is different than mine. I ducked my head so my hat hid my eyes before I rolled them skyward. Rolling my eyes to show my impatience is a habit of mine that Pa has never appreciated, and I learned at a young age not to let him see me do it. Silently rolling my eyes skyward satisfies my need for expression and, at the same time, allows me to keep my sometimes smart mouth to myself. I may be grown up now, but this habit has held me in good stead for a lot of years, and I’m just not ready to give it up.

“Sure, Pa. What is it you want me to do?” I figured I could still argue if it turned out his favor was likely to take longer than I wanted.

“I need you to let Little Joe ride along with you as far as the turnoff to the Weaver ranch. He's going to spend the day with Billy. I'll pick him up later when I return from town myself.”

Well, that didn't seem like too much of a favor, so I grinned at Pa and told him I'd do it. Joe was allowed to go back and forth to a few friends' homes by himself if they lived close enough to the Ponderosa, but I knew Pa wouldn't let him go as far as the Weaver's turnoff alone.

Joe ran into the barn a few minutes later. He was going so fast his boots kicked up dust and straw as he ran. That kid would go hell-bent to get somewhere, then jerk to a stop and begin to pass the time of day as if he had forgotten why he was in such a hurry to begin with. He had two speeds: fast and stopped.

Before Joe could get interested in the situation with Cat and to hurry him along, I helped him saddle Pokey, the only horse Pa would allow him to ride.

Pokey wasn't named Pokey because she was old, although by now she was. She was named that because she was born slow. She had been a little, stunty horse from the get-go, and I had long ago given up hope that she would spontaneously come to realize she was a horse and was therefore capable of breaking into a run. It never happened, and I finally stopped trying. All the while I'd been away at college, Hoss hadn't had any better luck with her than I'd had. Sometimes it's best just to butt out and let nature take its own course.

After not much delay, Little Joe and I were soon headed toward Virginia City. Hoss apparently had enough on his mind because he didn't even ask if he could go into town to keep me company. Now I enjoy my middle brother’s companionship, but as I said earlier, I had plans for today that did not include having a younger brother tagging me around town.

Chapter 2

I had been sizing Joe up since I'd recently returned home. I knew he had been doing the same to me. He was friendly enough, but he seemed to hold himself back. Not at all like it is between Hoss and me.

When I think on it, I guess I shouldn't have expected the same rapport with Joe. There's a 12-year age difference between us. He spent the first few of those years learning to walk and talk, and I've been away from home for the last four of those years. That hasn't left us much time to get acquainted. I'm grown up now, and Joe still has lots of growing up to do.

He had gotten up on the right side of the bed this morning, and his disposition was sunny and talkative. I wasn't sure if my littlest brother had ever heard a bird chirp. Birds were chirping all over the place today, and he was talking so fast there's no way he could have heard them.

About a mile before we reached the turnoff to the Weaver ranch, we saw a couple of men on horseback ahead of us. They were stopped just off to the side of the road. They looked to be ranch hands, and I guessed one to be about 40 years old and the other about 18 or 19 years old.

As we rode closer, the younger one dismounted and checked the front hoof of his horse. The older one sat easily in his saddle, took his hat off, mopped his forehead with his neckerchief, and smiled at us. We weren't that far from town that they couldn't have walked back or ridden double if they needed to get a horseshoe fixed, so I figured they didn't need my help.

However, being the cautious type, I moved Sport between Little Joe and the two of them as we continued on our way without stopping. I said a friendly 'howdy' to them as we passed and, just to be neighborly, commented on how nice the weather was. We Cartwright boys are nothing if not polite.

The younger man on the ground grinned and said it looked like he was going to walk for awhile so he was glad it was a nice day.

I consider myself to be a good judge of character, but these two caught me cold. Just as I turned my head away to continue on our way, I heard the distinctive metallic sound of a revolver being cocked. I shoved my hand down to the Navy Colt resting on my hip as I twisted around to face them.

“Don't even try it, Adam. My son has his gun on Little Joe. He won't hesitate to use it.”

I shot a quick glance at both of them before my eyes sprang to Joe. He had slowed his horse more than I had, or maybe Pokey had just used yet another excuse to stop completely. In any case, Joe was now in the direct line of fire.

I moved my hand well away from my gun. Joe threw me a wide-eyed look but stayed quiet. I kept the panic out of my voice as I said, “Don't move your horse, Little Joe. Just sit quietly.” He bobbed his head at me, then moved his eyes back to stare at the two men.

The older man held his gun on me while he dismounted. I quickly sized them up to see if I had any chance of overpowering either or both. The older man was about the same height as I am, and his son was just a shade shorter. Although on the lean side, both were muscular and appeared to be accustomed to hard, physical work. I wouldn't have much of a chance pitted against them. My stomach took a dive as I became more fully aware of the danger my little brother and I were in.

There was a striking similarity between them, and I had no problem believing they were father and son. I figured that the son had only pretended his horse was lame.

“What do you want?” I directed my question to the older man. Being the father, I figured he was the one in charge. I didn't have much money on me and knew Joe wouldn't have any.

Neither man answered. They no longer even pretended to be friendly. Hell, with their guns aimed at us, what had I expected? I'm a fair hand with a gun, but it was far too late to turn this situation around with hot lead of my own.

My voice was harsh. “Don't aim at my little brother, Mister. I'm the only one with a weapon!”

The older man kept his eyes on me as he spoke to his son. “Keep your gun on the kid, Davey.” He then walked to me, reached up, snapped the leather release on my holster, and pulled my gun out. He casually stepped away with his eyes never once leaving mine.

I would later come to know the father's name was Sam Evans, and his son's name was Davey. Sam's eyes were slate-gray and matched the first start of gray hair at his temples. His eyes were hard and his voice steady. “Take your gun belt off, Adam, and throw it over this way. Gentle-like.”

I jerked my head towards Joe, “Not until you aim somewhere besides at my brother!” I would later wonder what I thought I had to back up that retort.

I was relieved when Sam told Davey to aim at me instead of Joe. I kept my part in this small bargain and slowly lowered my hands to unbuckle my gun belt and free the leather tie that kept my holster secured to my thigh. I tossed it in the dust at his feet.

“What do you want? And how in hell do you know our names?”

Sam didn't bother to reply. He ordered me to dismount, and I had no choice but to follow his instructions.

“How is it you know our names?” I demanded again. I got no response except a rough shove that sent me reeling into Pokey. I heard Sam ask his son for rope in order to tie me, and I knew then that Joe and I were in real trouble.

Pa had drilled into me over and over that a situation can get much worse once you allow someone to tie you up and take you to a hidden location. It's better to fight with all you've got to prevent abduction because it may not be possible to fight at all later. But allow? My God, did I have a choice with Joe here?

If I didn't do what they said, these two would probably just kill me and take Joe anyway. So, against everything Pa had taught me, I saw no other choice but to go along for now. I would have to stay alert for the first opportunity to get us out of this situation before actual harm came to either of us.

While Davey held his gun on me, his father tied my wrists in front and told me to get up on Joe's horse. I waited for Joe to scoot back behind the cantle before I swung my leg up and over the saddle.

I was surprised to learn that Davey's horse was indeed lame. It wasn't a pretense after all. At this point, it occurred to me that they might not have originally intended to waylay us. We might have happened to come along just as they realized they needed another horse. Perhaps we had just been thrown into the mix by happenstance.

Davey swung up on Sport with the reins to his own horse held in one hand. I was happy to see Sport dance around, snort loudly, and give him considerable grief. I hoped he would buck a time or two which might give me a chance to jump Sam, but that didn't happen.

Once we were all mounted, Davey led the way on Sport with his own horse trailing alongside. Joe and I followed next on Pokey, and Sam brought up the rear on his own horse. When I looked back, Sam's gun was still drawn although it was no longer pointed at us.

Chapter 3

Now, I know the lay of the land for miles around the Ponderosa, but Sam led us in such a circuitous route that even I couldn't keep our turns straight. We had shortly turned into dense woods. Except for crossing a small stream, the landscape soon became monotonous and unmemorable.

After miles of travel, I stopped trying to get any information from either of them when Sam told me to shut up or he would shut me up. I didn't want to be gagged. I was already uncomfortable because the stirrups were set for Joe's leg length and not mine. I finally told Sam I would shut up if he would allow me to adjust the damn stirrups.

He wouldn't let me get off Pokey, nor would he untie me, but he adjusted the stirrups himself so I could at least stretch my legs to their full length. I looked for an opportunity to shove my boot into his face, but Davey kept his drawn gun on me.

They hadn't asked us for any money, so it was evident that this wasn't to be a quick, run-of-the-mill robbery. The fact they hadn't killed us yet gave me a certain amount of hope.

Because Sam no longer pointed his gun in Joe's direction and because he had adjusted my stirrups, I thought that this father-and-son duo might be kidnappers and Lord knew what else, but Sam was capable of at least a small amount of compassion. And so far, all Davey had done was follow his father's orders.

I could tell that Little Joe was scared by the way he gripped my belt as he rode behind me. Hell, I was scared and I'm a lot older. We managed to talk a little in low voices. I told him he was to stay ready to follow my instructions without a moment's hesitation. I put command into my tone to make certain he would obey me. He said he understood, and I believed him.

The ride was long and arduous, and I could feel Joe grow more tired with each mile. I talked to him to keep him awake, but the small jerks he made while he held onto me gave away his need to rest. With my hands tied in front of me, I couldn't reach behind me to support him. Joe has always been small for his age and had recently recovered from a bout of influenza, so I knew he wasn't as strong as he normally would be.

I turned sideways in the saddle and asked Sam to let me put Joe in front of me in the saddle. Once again, he complied with my request. I was starting to believe him to be a man who was at least capable of reason. With my wrists still tied in front of me, I encircled Joe with my arms in order to hold onto the reins.

Because his hands weren't tied, I whispered to Joe to work on the ropes around my wrists to see if he could loosen the knots. Whenever we were in a straight line with Sam directly behind us, he worked on the knots as I pulled my wrists closer to him. He almost had the knots loose when Pokey suddenly stumbled and went sideways to recover. Unfortunately, this exposed my wrists to Sam, who quickly rode up beside us and dismounted.

While his son again leveled his gun at me, Sam jerked the reins out of my hands and bound my wrists again. He then moved his horse to the front of the line, with the reins to our horse held in his right hand. He moved Davey, still on Sport, to the rear of the line. So far, all Joe and I had managed to do was have the ability to guide Pokey taken from us completely. I told him not to worry. We would come up with another plan.

With Little Joe in front of me in the saddle, it was easier for me to hold on to him to keep him from falling off. I soon felt him slip into sleep. After I pulled him back to rest on my chest, my worry for him lessened. I soon found I was able to relax better myself.

As the day wore on, shadows lengthened, and it began to grow chilly. I had my coat tied onto the back of my saddle on Sport because I had expected to return late from town. I gave a little snort to myself as I wondered what Ross had thought when I hadn't shown up at the Silver Dollar. I asked Sam if he would give me my coat, so I could put it around Joe, but he told me to shut up and keep riding.

I was mystified as to what Sam's intent was, but I had a hunch the saddlebags he kept with him held evidence of a crime already committed.

Just before dark descended, we came to a small but well maintained house. There was a barn and corral located a little further away. It was a good thing we stopped. I don't think old Pokey could have continued much further.

I woke Joe and moved my arms up and over his head before I slid off Pokey. Sam held his gun on me while I pulled Joe from the saddle. I kept my hand on the back of his neck as he stumbled in front of me toward the house.

With Sam behind us, we entered the house. He cut my bonds, then pushed us into a lean-to type of room that had no windows or openings of any kind. The only furniture in the room was a narrow bed and a single chair. After he slammed the door shut, I heard the thump of a chair as it was shoved against the other side and knew we would be guarded throughout the night.

Little Joe was exhausted, and we were both cold and hungry. I made him lie down on the bed and covered him with the only blanket that was in the room. He was too tired to argue. In fact, he was too tired to be scared any longer. He instantly fell into a soft sleep.

Within a short while, Sam opened the door wide enough to hand me some bacon and beans that had been prepared on an old range I had glimpsed in the main part of the house. He threw my coat in the general direction of the bed, then withdrew and slammed the door shut again.

I spread my coat over Joe but didn't bother to wake him. I figured he needed rest more than he needed food, so I ate my share and left his on the plate. I didn't figure he would care if the food was cold after he finally got enough sleep in.

It wasn't long before the chilliness in the room and my own tiredness overtook me. I moved Little Joe as close to the wall as I could get him on the narrow bed, then joined him under the sole blanket. Anyone who doesn't understand that it's cold in the Sierras after the sun goes down has never been here to experience it. I slept like an innocent that night.

Chapter 4

Joe remained asleep, but I woke early in the morning to the faint drone of voices that came from the other side of the door. I silently moved to the door and placed an ear close. I could hear Sam and Davey's voices, another voice that sounded like that of a younger child, then I unmistakably heard the faint, softer tone of a woman's voice. Had we been kidnapped by an entire family?

I knew that Pa would have discovered some time late yesterday that I had never made it to town, and Joe had never made it to Billy's house. My pa is a man of action, and I had no doubt that he and Sheriff Coffee had quickly formed a posse to find us.

After a while, I heard the sound of the front door of the house as it was opened and then closed. Davey's voice had dropped out of the conversation, so I figured he had gone outside.

I suddenly heard the scrape of the chair on the other side of the door as it was pulled away. I jumped back and sat down on the bed. The door opened, and Sam peered in with his gun drawn. He glanced at Joe, still sleep on the bed, then motioned for me to come out of the room.

I was surprised to see a boy about Joe's age seated at the table. He had a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. A bedroom door on the opposite side of the room was ajar, and I could partially see a woman propped up in bed.

In spite of the gun held on me, I wheeled in Sam's direction and demanded to be told what this was all about. Before I could react, he holstered his gun, stepped in close, and shoved me backwards to sit in one of the chairs at the table.

I'm a tall man with considerable power in my frame, and I consider myself to be stronger than most. We Cartwrights are accustomed to hard work, but I was unprepared for the sheer ferocity of Sam's movement. I had figured I had an age advantage, but he was faster than lightning. I made a mental note to take that into account should I get another chance.

My chance came sooner than I expected. Sam had barely moved off to one side when I heard a crash and caught sight of Little Joe as he boiled out of the lean-to. He threw himself toward Sam's holstered gun, swinging his small fists and kicking at Sam in the process. It was too late to stop him, so I started out of my chair suddenly hopeful that this was a chance for the two of us to do some heavy damage.

I caught a glimpse of Sam's gun as he jerked it out of the holster and swung it away from Joe's reach. The room exploded in a deafening blast of sound, and I felt the bullet rip into my right thigh. The force knocked me sideways. I crashed into the wall beside me but managed to stay upright. I heard another crash come from the other direction. I twisted around, and saw Davey slam through the front doorway of the house with his gun already aimed at my head.

I yelled at Joe to stop struggling, but it is next to impossible to reach his brain when he is in a fury. Before I could reach out to pull him away from Sam, Davey jerked me back to the chair. I could feel the cold steel of the barrel of his gun against my head.

Sam shoved his gun back into his holster, grabbed Joe's shoulders, and shook him hard. He then shoved him backwards toward me and yelled, “You keep him under control, or I'll kill you both!”

I pulled Joe around to face me and held onto his arms until my command of 'stop it' got through to him. He looked down at the blood on my hands, then his gaze dropped to watch the blood as it flowed out of the wound in my thigh. I heard the breath suddenly swoosh out of him. He hadn't realized I had been shot.

I watched his green eyes fill with tears, then he suddenly folded into me. I held him for a few moments before I turned him around to sit in the chair next to mine. I kept a tight grip on his arm just in case.

The boy who was about Joe's age had also been caught by surprise. He had jumped back to stand near the stove when the ruckus started. He was now as wide-eyed and pale as Joe, but he was looking at Joe in a perplexed way. Then his face cleared and he said, “I know you.”

Joe looked up. “Yeah, I know you too. You came to my school a couple of years ago. You never showed up the next year. I figured your folks moved away. Your name's Toby, ain't it?”

The other boy's eyes lit up. “Yeah, I'm Toby Evans. It's closer for me to go to school at Carson City now. You're Little Joe Cartwright, ain't ya?”

I heard a small groan escape from Sam. It sounded like defeat.

I let go of Joe and held onto my thigh with both hands instead. I watched the blood flow through my fingers and drip onto the floor. The wound didn’t hurt that much because my whole thigh was numb from the initial shock of the bullet, but it was getting harder and harder for me to stay focused.

I glanced toward Sam and blurted out, “Well, I guess that partly explains why you know our names.” I guess I thought that if I didn't acknowledge that my blood was flowing out of me, then maybe it wouldn't be true. Normally I'm a rational man, but right now I couldn't sustain a single thought long enough to do anything with it.

Sam ducked his head slightly and looked embarrassed. “Yeah, I know you Cartwrights. I hired out for temporary work with your father a couple of summers back when I needed money after my luck here at my place went south.”

I heard Davey behind me suddenly draw in a quick breath. “Pa, you're telling 'em too much.”

I watched Sam’s shoulders slump. He walked to Davey, gently took his son's gun, and put it on the table in front of me. He slowly drew his own gun out of his holster and carefully put it on the table alongside of Davey's gun.

I heard Davey's disbelieving voice, “Pa?”

Sam quietly pulled his son away from me, and they both stood looking at each other. Sam was looking at Davey, but I had the feeling he was also saying the words to me.

“It's over, son. I made a huge mistake, and I'm putting a stop to it now. The Cartwrights are good people. Ben was always good to me. I didn't expect to run into his sons on the road and, for a while, I thought I could still make my plan go through. I can't, son. I was wrong.”

Sam turned toward me with sadness reflecting in his voice, “I'm sorry, Adam. I never intended for either you or your brother to get hurt. I didn't intend to harm either of you, and I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

I found another stray thought and voiced it. “So what's in the saddlebags that you were so careful to keep close to you?”

Here I was with my life-blood dripping out of me and everyone in the room, including me, was carrying on as if we were all at a church picnic. The room seemed to have lost some of its shape, but that didn’t seem at all odd to me.

Instead of answering my question, Sam looked down at the puddle of blood forming on the floor. Before I knew it, he turned into a father on me. “Never mind the saddlebags now, Adam. We need to attend to your leg and get you to a doctor.”

I argued that I wanted to know why he kidnapped us, but he wasn't buying it. He took charge of the situation, and I couldn't stop him. The numbness from the shock of the bullet as it entered my thigh had faded, and pain rapidly took its place. God, I swear I have never had anything hurt so much in my entire life.

I will say this about pain. It sharpens the senses. It chased away the shadows in the room, my vision sharpened, and my thoughts began to clear. Blood was still dripping at a fairly rapid pace, but my leg hurt so much I wouldn't let anyone near it.

Sam grabbed a towel from the table, shoved my hands away from the wound, then tied the towel tightly around my leg. He ordered Davey to take my arm, he grabbed my other arm, and they half carried me to the small bed where Little Joe and I had spent the previous night. I was only too happy to be lying down.

Joe followed and stood at the foot of the bed, looking pale and scared. We both watched in astonishment as our captors turned into our keepers.

Chapter 5

In spite of my protests and my smart mouth, Sam had Davey help him strip my boots, belt, and blood-soaked jeans off. He quickly tied a strip of cloth around my upper thigh, higher than the wound, which left the wound visible so he could check to see if the bullet had gone through. Unfortunately for me, there was no exit wound.

There was a lot of blood, but Sam was calm about the whole thing. He carefully tied another strip of cloth directly over the wound but left the higher strip securely in place. He then instructed Davey to get all of the horses saddled.

He looked me directly in the eye and answered my unasked question. “You need a doctor, Adam, and you need him fast. I'm taking you to Virginia City to Dr. Martin. He's the best doctor around these parts.”

My leg hurt like sin, but now that I was lying down, I didn't feel so light headed. I knew the kidnapping was over. I had the feeling that Little Joe and I were in good hands. I looked at Sam. “So, what's your name?”

“Sam Evans.”

“When are you going to tell me what's in your saddlebags?”

He didn't hesitate. “It's the payroll for one of the silver mines north of here. I've worked there for about six months. I keep the books and act as supervisor when the boss is away. It's also my job to pick up the payroll at the bank for distribution to the miners each Friday.”

Sam looked down at the floor for a couple of seconds before he raised his eyes back to me.

“Adam, I was headed away from the mine and had already met up with Davey when you and your little brother came along. With stolen money on me and with Davey's horse already lame, I felt I had no choice but to take you both with us. I couldn't afford to leave you as a witness to our location.”

His voice dropped lower as he glanced toward the door. “My wife is very sick, and Dr. Martin says he doesn't expect she will live long. I wanted to take her to San Francisco to see if a doctor there could help her. I just…I just thought I might be able to help her live. I'm not using that to justify my actions. I was wrong to do what I did, and I know that.”

“I'm sorry to hear about your wife, Sam. That's hard.” I watched his face for a few moments before I continued. “Even if you return the money, your mining company surely will press charges against you. You know that, don't you?”

“Yes, I know that. What makes it even tougher is that my boss is an old friend of mine. We've always had a great deal of respect for each other. It's going to be difficult to see the disappointment on his face.”

He went quiet for a few minutes. Then he spoke again, “When I suddenly decided to do this, I acted before I had things completely thought out. I couldn't get a loan at the bank because too many people are currently defaulting on their loans. And I didn't have enough time to get my ranch sold. I thought I could justify my actions to myself, but I was wrong. I can't. I didn't tell my wife because I knew she would be disappointed that I would even consider something like this.”

He continued to look directly at me, and his eyes never wavered. “All I can do now, Adam, is make sure that this already bad situation I've caused doesn't get any worse.”

I felt compassion for him, “You sound like a good man.”

“Up until I did this, I have been. And now it's up to me to make it true again.”

He smiled a sad smile. “My plans were slowed up yesterday when I unexpectedly ran into you and your little brother. I needed to be slowed up. It's my fault that you were shot but, for what it's worth, I didn't mean to shoot you.”

“I saw the look of shock on your face when the gun went off, Sam. I believe you.” He nodded and looked down at the floor. It seemed important to him that I understand that he hadn't meant to shoot me.

I suddenly felt very young. I looked to him for direction on what the next step should be. This man, this father of his own children, saw my confusion and understood.

“The first thing I need to do, Adam, is to get you ready to ride to Virginia City. I'll put the money on your horse in case we run into a posse. There surely is a posse out looking for us by now. Davey only did what I told him, but I expect to face prison for what I've done. What I don't want is for either Davey or me to die needlessly at the hands of an overzealous or nervous posse, so I'll have to be careful how I do this. Davey is getting our gear together. We'll set out as soon as I can fix a quick breakfast for us.”

He walked to the door, then turned again to look at me. “I'm going to take a few minutes to explain all of this to my wife, then I'll be back to help you get dressed. I have an extra pair of jeans that should be long enough to fit you. I'll rip the seam up the leg so we can keep an eye on your wound as we travel.”

He took a deep breath before he continued, “I won't lie to you, Adam. You saw how rough the terrain is around my place. We'll have to travel on horseback, not a wagon. The ride will be rough but not as long as you might think. I doubled back a lot on our way here to confuse you. Do you think you're up to it?”

“I’ll have to be.”

He looked at Joe, who immediately piped up, “I'll ride with Adam on Sport. I can help keep him on.”

Sam nodded his head slightly at Joe. “I'll let you start out that way. If he has too much trouble and can't stay on, I'm going to put Davey up behind him instead.”

Joe recognized the authority in Sam's voice and didn't answer back except to say quietly, “Yes, sir.”

Sam nodded to me, then left the room.

Chapter 6

While Little Joe and I waited for Sam to return, I realized something was wrong with my youngest brother. He looked everywhere around the room except at my face. His curly brown hair was sticking out every which way, his clothes were rumpled, and his lower lip was caught between his teeth. I knew I wasn't any more presentable than he was. I didn't care about presentable. I cared that he looked like he was trying not to cry.

“We're safe now, Little Joe. You know that, don't you?”

He didn't answer.

“What's wrong?”

He looked toward the door rather than at me.

“Joe, look at me,” I said softly.

He looked at the floor.

“Now.” My voice was firmer.

He dragged his eyes from the floor to my face.

I watched as tears suddenly spilled down his face. He wouldn't come any closer to the bed, but words started to tumble out of him so fast he was tripping all over them. He couldn't seem to get a sentence finished before he started all over again with the same words.

“Adam, it's my fault you got shot. It's my fault. You told me to do exactly...exactly what you told me to do. But I didn't...But I didn't have time. I watched him shove you. I thought he was going to hit you. I'm sorry. I shoulda waited. I'm sorry, Adam. If I hadn't...if I hadn't tried to help, you wouldn't have gotten shot. But I didn't...but I didn't know that. I thought he was going to kill you. I'm sorry—”

I pushed myself upright, gritted my teeth, shoved my wounded leg off the bed, then reached out fast enough to snag his arm before he could jump back. I pulled him to stand in front of me.

His words were choked with sobs, and I couldn't get him to hear me. Like I said before, Joe has two speeds, full-tilt or a dead stop. I shook him hard enough to get him into a dead stop, then sat him down on the bed beside me. I turned him so he had no choice but to look at me.

“Joe, we're safe. That's what important right now. We're safe.”

He took a quick breath, and I knew he was getting ready to argue. I put my hand over his mouth before he could get started again.

“Listen, Joe. If you hadn't barreled out of the lean-to directly at Sam like you did, we don't know what might have happened. It might have taken him days to come to the realization that he was wrong. Somewhere in that time, I would have found an opportunity to attack him. If I had attacked him, it would have been man to man, and he likely would have tried to kill me.”

“But it was me who tried to get to his gun, and he shot you, Adam!”

“But he wasn't really aiming at me. He was just trying to keep the gun away from you. It just went off. He didn't really intend for it to go off.”

“That still makes it my fault you got hurt!”

“No, it doesn't! He's the one who committed a crime, he's the one who kidnapped us, he's the one who put us in a dangerous situation, and he's the only one responsible for shooting me. Whether he intended to do it or not.”

I could see I hadn't convinced him. I tried again.

“Joe, whenever someone kidnaps or does any wrong to another person, the wronged person has every right to fight to make the situation right again. The wronged person should fight back. That's what you did. You distracted him, and we both joined into the fight. We both did the right thing to fight.”

He looked like he wanted to believe me, so I continued.

“The outcome on any situation is never guaranteed. In this case, it didn't work out exactly the way we wanted, but it did work out. Sam came to his senses, and that is even better than I expected. I figured there was likely to be death in the end.”

I saw a movement at the door of the lean-to, and Sam stepped into the room. He came to the bed and leaned forward with his hands on his knees until his head was at Joe’s eye level. “Listen to your brother, Little Joe. He's right. I'm the only one responsible for him getting hurt. Don't you ever question that again. You hear me?”

Joe looked from Sam to me, then back to Sam again. “Yes, sir. I just wish you hadn't shot him though.”

Sam allowed a small, sad smile to slightly lift one corner of his mouth. He spoke to Joe, but his eyes were directed toward me. “So do I, Little Joe. So do I.”

Chapter 7

I won't tell you it was easy to ride all the way from Sam's place because it wasn't. It felt like there was a chunk of burning coal buried in my thigh, and it was all I could do to stay in the saddle.

Sam had some laudanum that Dr. Martin had given to his wife to ease her pain. He carried a little of that in his saddlebag for me, but I wouldn't take it. Laudanum does strange things to me, and I won't take it unless I have no choice. Besides, it makes me so sleepy, I can't stay awake. I needed to stay alert in order to keep myself in the saddle. Sam must have recognized the stubbornness on my face because, when I told him I wouldn't take it, he didn't even try to make me. Where taking medicine is concerned, I wish Pa was as easy to convince as Sam.

Little Joe rode with me on Sport, but I had lost too much blood and couldn't stay upright. After I nearly fell out of the saddle, Sam made Little Joe switch to Pokey by himself, then put Davey up behind me on Sport. Davey had some strength to him, and I managed to stay in the saddle with him half-holding me in place. Sam held the reins to Davey's riderless horse, a different one – not the lame one we came in with last night.

We had gone far enough that the ground had leveled out some, and I had started to think there was some familiarity to our surroundings. We gave the horses a small breather and had just started up again when I heard a shout come from a small stand of pines off to my left.

“Put your hands in the air and don't move!”

I recognized Pa's voice, and a profound sense of relief flooded over me. I needed Pa, and once again he had come through. For all of my life, he had been there when I needed him.

I knew Joe would have recognized Pa's voice also, so I shot a quick glance at him and said, “Don't move, Joe. Just sit quietly.” He looked scared but nodded his head at me. I knew he would obey me.

I yelled, “Don't shoot, Pa. They're giving themselves up.”

Sam had his hands in the air, well away from his gun. I hadn't blamed him for wearing it. This is wild country and rattlesnakes, as well as an occasional protective mother bear, are cause for concern. Davey, riding on Sport with me, also had his hands up in the air. I heard him draw in a quick, nervous breath.

Pa stepped into view. I was surprised he was alone.

“Adam, I need to make sure you're in charge and not them. What's your middle name?”

I was astonished that Pa would think I was in charge of anything, all slumped over my saddle horn like I was. Then I felt a stab of disappointment. He had forgotten my middle name. How could a father forget his own son's name?

Then my brain kicked in. If I gave him a false answer, he would know that Joe and I were still in danger and would act accordingly.

“Stoddard,” I called out.

As soon as I said that, the rest of Pa's posse stepped out from behind cover. Hoss was there as well as Sheriff Coffee, his deputy, and six neighbors and friends. Pa stayed where he was and kept his gun trained on Sam while Sheriff Coffee stepped forward, relieved Sam of his gun, and checked to make sure Davey hadn't concealed a weapon.

I looked at Joe and was surprised to see him still looking at me for directions. I think he was just as confused as I had been that Pa wanted to know my middle name. “It's over, Little Joe. You can get down and go to Pa now.”

He shot off Pokey's back and ran to meet Pa. Pa reached out to embrace him, but Little Joe suddenly jumped back out of his reach. “Pa, I'm not hurt, but Adam is hurt real bad. You need to help him first.” That little brother of mine was growing up faster than I could keep up.

Davey dismounted from behind me but didn't move away. He raised his hand enough to get a good grip on the back of my belt. “I'm sorry, Mr. Cartwright, but Adam is likely to fall off if I let go of him.”

For some reason, that really made me angry. I hadn't fallen off yet, had I? I sat up a little straighter in the saddle to prove I was fit. Wrong move. Everything went gray, and I slumped forward. Pa roughly pushed Davey out of his way. I heard him say something to me as he came up to my side, but I don't know what it was. I felt his strength as he carefully pulled me out of the saddle. My world went black before he got me to the ground.

It's a good thing we were fairly close to Virginia City because I faded into and out of consciousness the rest of the way. I was only vaguely aware that I rode the remainder of the trip on Chubb with Hoss so he could hold me on. Pa wouldn't let either Sam or Davey anywhere near Little Joe and me.

Chapter 8

Dr. Martin got the bullet out of my leg with no problem because patching up Cartwrights and our friends is what he does best.

The doctor told me I had to stay at his office for a few days. He said he already had two other patients in town who needed his attention, and he wasn't about to ride all the way out to the Ponderosa just to treat me. I wasn't at all happy about that. I set my jaw and told him I would be fine at home.

Pa fixed me with that no-nonsense look of his and said, “You'll do what the doctor tells you, and you'll do it quietly.” I shut up, but then I had to endure the bemused look on Dr. Martin’s face and the look of surprise and open delight on Joe's. So much for being 22 years old.

Little Joe begged Pa to let him stay with me at the doctor’s office, but Pa wouldn't allow that either.

Both Sam and Davey had been jailed when we all got to Virginia City, but Davey was released the next day. Sheriff Coffee agreed that he wasn't the one who took the money, and he had only followed his father's orders the rest of the time. As it turned out, Davey was only 17 years old. I think his youth also played a part in Roy's decision.

I didn't want to press charges against Sam for kidnapping Little Joe and me. Hell, I'll admit it...I felt compassion for him. I honestly believed him to be a good man. Little Joe and I both agreed on this. It took us a long time to convince Pa, but he eventually agreed to let us make the decision.

As it turned out, Sam's boss didn't want to press charges against him either. The two of them had been friends for a lot of years, and his boss chalked up the situation to a temporary lack of good judgment on Sam's part. His boss knew about the circumstances with Sam's wife, so he had a lot of empathy toward him.

When nobody wanted to press charges and when so many people came forward to vouch for Sam's integrity, Sheriff Coffee had little choice but to release him from jail.

Sam had asked for no quarter regarding respect for the law, and he had fully expected to pay for his crime. When he was released from jail, he was as astonished as is possible for any man to be.

Virginia City is a rough-and-tumble town, but it is a good place to live your life.

Several churches came together to organize a means to bring Sam's family into town to a small rented house, so his wife could be close to Dr. Martin's office. In addition, the townspeople held a big barn dance in which the proceeds went to Sam to help him pay rent and to provide for the needs of his family while his wife was sick.

The dance was a great idea. Everybody won. The money helped Sam, and all of the people who contributed benefited from all of the fun. I got a kick out of how many miners came to the dance in order to help Sam. He had never worked below ground with them, but the miners considered him a likeable man and recognized him to be a man worthy of their respect.

I was real proud of our town.

By the time the barn dance actually took place, I was still on crutches and had to have a little help to get around. But I wouldn't have missed that dance for anything. Pa and Hoss helped me get there, then plopped me in a corner near the dance floor so I could enjoy watching all of the foot stomping.

Sam soon drifted over my way. He gave me a sheepish grin and said, “Sorry you aren't able to dance, Adam. I didn't do you any favors by shooting you, but I at least took you out of circulation so the other young men in this town have a better chance with the ladies.”

I just laughed.

He gave me a good-natured smile, then leaned back against the side of a table. He soon lapsed into silence with a somewhat perplexed expression on his face. His continued silence was too long for me.

“What's wrong, Sam?”

He looked startled. “Oh. Uh...just pondering on something, I guess.”

“You shot me, Sam. That means you owe me. Out with it. What's bothering you?”

“You're never going to let me forget I shot you, are you?”

“Nope.”

We traded grins.

Then Sam turned serious and said, “I can’t even begin to tell you, Adam, how grateful I am for all of the compassion and kindness that the people of Virginia City have extended to me. But as thankful as I am, I know that all the kindness in the world doesn’t absolve me of the serious crime I committed. I especially need for you to understand that I will always feel tremendous regret for what I’ve done.”

“That isn’t necessary, Sam. I don’t hold anything against—”

He held up his hand to stop me from speaking. “Adam, I will always feel enormous sadness for causing you harm. And that’s exactly as it should be.”

I sat quietly and let him talk.

“I took a serious wrong turn in my life when I committed this crime. It’s now up to me to straighten out that wrong turn. But there’s another problem to consider, and I’m not sure if you will understand.”

“Try me, Sam.”

He looked directly at me as he spoke, and I realized then how important it was to him that I understand. “Adam, in order to get back to being the man I once was, a hardworking and honest man with principles, I can’t allow myself to become so mired in shame and regret that it destroys my abilities to think and to act rationally in the future.”

“I don’t disagree with that, Sam.”

He nodded at me, then said, “As regretful as I will always be for the wrong that I’ve done, I have to have the right to take pride in my future work, in my accomplishments, and in myself. There is no other way for a good man to live a worthwhile, accomplished life.”

He leaned in closer, as if that small gesture would somehow further my understanding. “Adam, I view mankind as capable of great heroism and great accomplishment, but pride isn’t considered a virtue to most folks. I don’t agree with them on that. I hope you understand that I’m not talking about false pride. I’m talking about earned pride. I believe a sense of earned pride is a good thing and ought to be encouraged. A man should take pride in his abilities and in himself.”

We both lapsed into a few moments of quiet. I finally spoke, “You're an educated man, aren't you, Sam?”

He looked surprised, but his quiet voice was filled with conviction. “I am, and I'll make no excuses for it. My pa always told me to take pride in my ability to learn, and I'm happy to say I've followed his advice. I went to college when I was young, and I've never lost my love of books. I take enormous pleasure in the reading of a well-written book.”

“As do I, Sam. As do I.”

Sam had recently made a huge mistake, but he was fully aware of his mistake. I knew him to be an honest man with integrity. He believed in the right things in life.

I’ve thought about what Sam said that night at the dance, and I find myself in agreement with him regarding mankind’s right to stand proud for accomplishments well done. In regards to my own life, I’m a tall, strong, productive man: a man with some faults but a man with more strengths and virtues. Pa did a good job in raising me, and I helped some along the way. I’m proud of the man I’ve become, and I like the knowing of it.

As unobtrusively and as best he could, Sam kept track of all the human kindness extended to him by the good folks in Virginia City. He is a man of honor, and I knew he would do everything within his power to repay all of the people who had shown benevolence and goodwill toward him.

I would like to say that everything ended well for Sam, but life isn't like that. His wife died about a month after the barn dance was held. Dr. Martin finally made him understand that no doctor would have been able to help her live no matter where Sam had taken her.

He eventually sold his property and got a good price for all of his land. He repaid all of the people who had helped him out, and then some. In this world, sometimes bad things happen and sometimes good things happen. That's the way of life. It pleased me to know that Sam got an uncommonly good price for his land. It was finally time for a little goodness to come his way.

He and his sons moved away from the territory a short time after he sold his property. I was sorry to see him go. I recognized him to be a good man, and I would like to have gotten to know him better. He told me he wanted to go to a different place. There were too many sad memories for him here. I thought I understood, but in fact it would take a lot more years of living my own life before I truly did. I just didn't know that at the time.

Chapter 9

While I was recovering from the bullet wound, I noticed a difference in Little Joe's attitude toward me. Instead of treating me as if I were a visitor in his world who would soon move on, he now openly welcomed me as a permanent and rightful resident on the Ponderosa. Things were finally as they should be.

I told Joe that he had grit and that I was proud of him. I meant that. Words shouldn’t be said unless they’re meant, and Joe has always trusted me to tell him the truth. Well, at least regarding serious matters, anyway.

These days, I often find Joe standing close to me and sometimes even leaning against me whenever he has the need. He's ten years old, and I know this will pass. Right now we are both enjoying the closeness of being brothers.

As it turned out, Ross Marquette and I would never again go out on the town. While I was recuperating, he and Delphine got engaged. They put off the wedding long enough for me to recover enough to stand by Ross's side and hand him the ring to put on Del's finger. It was a nice wedding, and it was a pleasure to see two such good people so much in love.

Old Cat had her kittens in due time. She only had two in this 'batch', but it was a good thing because those kittens were bigger than any kittens I'd ever seen.

“Golly dern, Adam, come look at these two. They're huge. Ain't they cute?”

Hoss had fixed up a box for Cat and her kittens in one corner of the barn. I sat down in the dirt next to him and looked into the box.

“All kittens are cute, Hoss. Don't you know that by now?”

“Shore, but some are just cuter than others.”

“Why do they look so...strange?”

“Whatta' ya mean, strange? There're ordinary kittens!”

“If they're so ordinary, where's the rest of their tails? And why are their ears all pointy?”

“Well, maybe their tails just need time ta grow out some. Their ears...their ears look okay ta me.” He sounded doubtful.

I picked up first one kitten, then the other. “Well, look at this. They both have extra toes!”

Hoss gently took the kittens from me and carefully checked their toes. “Well, I'll be. Don't that beat all?”

He put the kittens back into the box with Cat but not before we both heard a small chirp come from one of the kittens.

“Uh, Adam. Did that kitten just meow?”

“No. I think I heard it chirp.”

“How?”

“I have no idea, Hoss. I have no idea.”

As it turned out, those kittens weren't ordinary at all. As they grew into adults, besides their extra toes, they each had a bobbed tail, tufted ears, and longer legs than were normal. They looked like smaller versions of a bobcat. And they didn't meow, they chirped.

I couldn't help but wonder if these two were the result of a little mutual affection between that bobcat Hoss had spotted earlier and Cat. Pa said he had been hearing stories about offspring of bobcats and domesticated cats for years, but he never believed it until now. I had no trouble believing it at all.

Hoss had the last laugh about those kittens. His two most favorite cookies in this world are gingersnap cookies and shortbread cookies. Why was I surprised when he announced that the new kittens were named Gingersnap and Shortbread, which quickly devolved to Ginger and Shorty?

For all of his kind ways, my middle brother exhibits a wicked sense of 'gotcha'.

THE END

References and Acknowledgments

A Pixie-Bob is a feline that is believed to be the result of the mating between a bobcat and a domestic barn cat. I first became aware of them through an article in my local newspaper. They are larger than domestic cats, and have bobbed tails, tufted ears, and often extra toes. They also chirp instead of meow. Descriptions and photos of these felines can be found on various websites by keying in the word “Pixie-Bob”.

The references to Ross Marquette and Delphine come from the Bonanza episode, The Dark Gate, written by Ward Hawkins.

The reference to MaryAnn comes from an earlier story of mine, And Along Came MaryAnn, posted on the Bonanza Legacy site and Best of the West site.

The reference to Hoss beating Adam up in the barn comes from an earlier story of mine, When We All Grow Up (Expanded Version), posted on the Bonanza Legacy site and Best of the West Site.

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