THE ILL-FATED CATTLE DRIVE
by
Christy Gleason

With special thanks to my sister, Donna, for her tireless work as my
beta-reader, and for her endless encouragement.

“Hey, Adam.”

The slim raven-haired man sitting in the blue wing chair near the fire made no response. The dark eyes that were fixated on the book before him were the only things about him that moved, scanning back and forth over the beautiful words he so cherished.

“Adam. Hey, Adam.”

More insistent this time. Adam groaned inwardly. How does he do it, he thought in mild irritation. For a man with no love of the written word, how does he always know to interrupt me when I’m at the best spot? For a moment he toyed with the thought of feigning temporary deafness, but nearly thirty years of experience with younger brothers had taught him that such tactics were useless. If there’s one thing younger brothers are successful at, he mused to himself, it’s aggravation.

Almost despite himself the man raised his eyes from the page and regarded his brother with good-natured vexation.

“Joe,” he stated aimiably, “you’re a genius.”

The green eyes of the younger man widened in surprise, then pleasure. A slow smile lit up his pleasant, boyish features, and he looked at the large man across the checkerboard from him in smug pride.

“Hear that, Hoss? Older Brother says I’m a genius!”

Hoss, by far the largest of the brothers, looked up at Joe then glanced sideways at the eldest of the three. He grunted.

“Yeah? Well, I’ve seen that look before, Shortshanks, and I’m here to tell you, you ain’t heard the whole story yet.” He stared at the board a moment longer, then thoughtfully jumped three of Joe’s checkers in quick succession. “Just let Adam finish.” He took a bite of his third helping of apple pie, then waved the fork absently at Adam, inviting continuation. “Go ahead, Adam. What’s Little Joe suddenly a genius about?”

Adam looked at Hoss for a moment, then back at Joe, bestowing on him a brilliant, sunny smile. “Joe,” he told him sweetly, “I’ve never in my life met anyone who had the ability that you do to get on people’s nerves.”

Hoss gave a bray of laughter, sending bits of half-eaten apple pie over the entire vicinity. “Told ya,” he said shortly, his attention quickly returning back to the game before him.

Joe scowled in response. “Pa,” he tattled, turning to the fourth man that sat huddled near the fire in the great room. “Adam’s picking on me again, and Hoss is spitting.”

Ben Cartwright shook his head. It was exactly this sort of behavior from his boys that he was firmly convinced had turned his hair prematurely gray. “Don’t involve me, Son,” he replied absently, his eyes never leaving the pages of the Territorial Enterprise that he held in his hands. It didn’t matter that the edition was over a month old. It was the newest paper they had, and from the depth of the snows around the ranch, it was unlikely anyone would be making the long trek to Virginia City to purchase a new one any time soon. But the men had lived here on the Ponderosa Ranch in Nevada Territory for over twenty years, and were well accustomed to long winters nearly cut off from the nearest town. They knew how to make due.

Joe turned back to his eldest brother who had returned to his book of poetry.

“Adam!” he said again, his voice now tinged in annoyance.

Adam closed his eyes briefly, then sighed and marked his place. He put the book down on his lap and regarded his little brother steadfastly. “What?”

“I want to ask you something.”

“Why don’t you ever ask me things when I’m not reading?”

Joe snorted. “Name me a time when you’re not reading and I’ll do that.”

Adam grinned good-naturedly. He supposed he deserved that. He was a bookworm, and to be fair, his family did put up with his introverted, bookish ways with good humor.

“All right, Joe. What did you want?”

“Well, I was thinking...”

Adam nodded sagely. “Good for you. Keep it up, and you’ll find in a hundred years or so, you’re quite adept at it.”

Joe glowered. “Funny. No, really. I was thinking about that cattle drive.”

Adam blinked at the younger man in confusion. It was January. He knew Joe often had a unique perspective on things, but who went on a cattle drive in January?

“Umm...what cattle drive would that be, exactly?”

“You know. That first one I ever went on. Right after my ma died.”

For the first time that evening Ben looked up from his paper, confused. He remembered no cattle drive in the wake of Marie’s death, and certainly a child then Joe’s age would never have gone along. He glanced at Adam and saw him staring at Hoss with a look of pure horror on his face, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What cattle drive are you talking about, Joseph?” he asked, observing Adam surreptitiously. He noted the look of panic, quickly masked, that crossed the man’s face, and his interest rose.

“You know, Pa, that one to San Francisco.”

This time Ben watched Hoss. His mouth had dropped open. Ben snorted. Hoss was incapable of hiding his emotions—exactly what made him such an abysmal poker player. His interest in the subject of this heretofore-unknown cattle drive was further piqued.

“No, as a matter of fact, Joseph, I don’t know. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t remember too well. That’s why I’m askin’ Adam.”

Ben turned squarely to his eldest. “Adam?”

Adam smiled disarmingly. “Pa?”

“Why don’t you tell me what Joseph is talking about?”

Adam spread his hands beseechingly. “Pa, if there’d been a cattle drive after Marie’s death, don’t you think you’d remember it?”

Thirty-four years of knowing his son had taught Ben to listen carefully to what he said. Adam would never lie outright. Nonetheless, he would cheerfully do everything but. And Ben knew the boy to be a veritable master of misdirection.

“I don’t know, Adam. Perhaps I wouldn’t if I wasn’t there. Tell me, do you remember a cattle drive like that?”

Adam looked at his father with wide, innocent eyes. “Pa, Joe was five when Marie died. Surely you don’t honestly think I’d take a five-year-old on a cattle drive?”

“Well I’d agree that no sensible person would do that.”

“Well there you are then.” Adam shrugged and smiled, clearly indicating that he’d proven beyond doubt the lack of existence of any such drive. He swiftly returned to his book.

“Adam,” Ben said again, exaggerated patience in his tone.

Adam looked up, his face a mask of pure innocence. “Yes, Pa?”

“Do you know anything about the cattle drive to which Joseph is alluding?”

“Pa,” Adam said, his tone sweet and soothing. “I thought we just agreed that no sensible person would take a five-year-old on a cattle drive.”

“Did you?”

Adam assumed a wounded air. “You think I’m not sensible,” he managed sadly.

Ben snorted and turned to Hoss.

“Hoss.”

The big man jumped, upsetting the checkerboard, much to his chagrin, as, despite Joe’s constant cheating, he was close to winning for once. “Dadburnit!”

“Hoss.”

Hoss sighed, looking up at his father. “Yessir?”

“Was there a cattle drive after your mother died in which Joseph participated?”

Hoss’ look of pure panic spoke volumes and he cleared his throat. “Well, Pa, Ma died quite some time ago. Mighty difficult to remember that cattle drive real clear-like.” Hoss smiled and looked at Adam hopefully. Adam promptly closed his eyes, and his shoulders sagged in defeat.

Ben grinned smugly at the look on Adam’s face, knowing he’d won.

“Well, Adam? Care to enlighten me?”

“I’d have to confess to a certain disinterest in the subject.”

“Indulge me.”

Adam and Hoss looked at one another, Adam accusingly, Hoss chagrined.

“Why don’t you tell Pa about it, Hoss? Seeing as you can’t seem to keep your big mouth shut.”

“Dadburnit, Adam. It ain’t my fault Little Joe here done started it all.”

“And your brilliant acting and quick-thinking repartee certainly saved the day, didn’t it?”

Hoss scowled. “Dang you, Adam. The whole mess was your fault anyways!”

“My fault? My fault! I was just trying to keep the ranch running and head a perfectly normal cattle drive. If you and Joe hadn’t managed to find every possible trouble, and then some, between here and Frisco, we could’a told Pa all about this years ago!”

“Well, if you hadn’t’a put me in charge of the world’s worst young’un in the history of time, maybe the thing wouldn’t’a turned out so dadburned awful!”

“Well, if you hadn’t...”

“BOYS!”

The two immediately stopped squabbling and looked at their father guiltily.

“Adam. I would like you to tell me the no-doubt fascinating tale of how a five-year-old child helped to drive a herd of cattle nearly three hundred miles.”

Adam snorted derisively. “Oh, he didn’t help, let me assure you. Anything but.”

“Fine. Then tell me all about the cattle drive in which he didn’t help.”

Adam scowled at Joe. “If you don’t have just the biggest mouth in the Territory, I’d like to know who does.”

Joe assumed an injured air. “How was I to know it was all a deep, dark secret?”

“Because I made everyone promise at the time never to tell Pa,” Adam snapped. Then he broke off and his eyes opened wide in fright as he glanced at his father, realizing that he should never have admitted that. He smiled enchantingly, but as his father continued to glare at him, the smile quickly faded.

“So what you’re saying is that you took your two younger brothers, aged five and eleven, on a cattle drive to San Francisco and then threatened them to keep them quiet.”

Adam shifted nervously. “Well, I wouldn’t call it threatening, Pa,” he objected. “It was more like I convinced them that neglecting to mention it to you might be the best plan of action.”

“And they agreed because...”

Adam dimpled ingratiatingly. “I might have implied something bad might happen if they didn’t keep their mouths shut.”

“I see. But no threats, of course.”

Adam smiled sickly, suddenly looking much younger than his thirty-four years as he watched his father warily. Ben folded his paper, and very deliberately placed it on the coffee table before him. Then, leaning back and crossing his long legs, he gazed at Adam intently.

“I am delighted that you have volunteered to tell us all about this cattle drive, Adam. It will no doubt make for a pleasant story to while away a cold winter evening. Do begin.”

Adam sent one last despairing look at his brothers, but both of them were looking intently away from him, Hoss moping, Joe shaking with silent laughter.

Adam scowled. “All right, Pa. All right. I’ll tell you.”

He took a deep breath, and began.

*******

“Adam!”

He heard his name being called as though from a long distance, but willed it away. Not yet, he thought. Just a few more minutes.

“Adam!”

It came again, more insistent this time, and also accompanied by someone shaking him. Unwillingly, he opened his eyes and discovered he’d fallen asleep at his father’s desk again.

“Adam!” Hoss was saying. “Adam, I’m sorry, but it’s time to wake up.”

Adam rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and smiled at his brother as he closed the account books he’d been working on when he’d finally succumbed to exhaustion in the early morning hours.

“Thanks Hoss. I appreciate you waking me. I need to go do the barn chores.”

He rose and headed to the door, but Hoss stopped him.

“I already done ‘em Adam. Just sit down and eat breakfast.”

Adam felt a wave of relief mixed with shame wash over him. He was so tired; he didn’t think he could have managed the chores, but nonetheless, Hoss was only eleven, and Adam felt that he was dumping far too much work on the child’s shoulders.

“I really appreciate your help, but don’t do that again, Hoss,” he reprimanded as he sank heavily into a chair at the table and poured himself a cup of strong coffee. “Wake me up to help. You can’t do everything around here.”

Hoss snorted, skewering a pile of flapjacks with his fork.

“And you can? Adam, you’re only one person. You cain’t run this ranch by yourself. Face it, you need my help.”

Adam stared wearily at the table laden with Hop Sing’s good cooking, too tired even to fill his plate. “It’s only ‘til Pa gets home and back on his feet. If we can just make it through the cattle drive, we’ll be okay financially. Then...” Adam shrugged, thinking of his father, wondering when and if he would choose to return to the land of the living and take back the reins of the Ponderosa. No sooner did he return from one trip than he left for another. It seemed he couldn’t bear to stay at the ranch where everything reminded him of Marie.

“Reckon Little Joe’ll be okay while we’re gone?”

Adam nodded, yawning and refilling his cup. “’Course, I hate leaving him right now, what with Pa gone, and not being sure when he’ll be back, but Hop Sing’ll look after him, don’t worry.” He looked over at Hoss, biting his lip, then dropped his gaze to the table. “Hoss, I...I’m sorry I’m relying on you so much. Putting so much on your shoulders. You shouldn’t have to be heading out on a cattle drive. Not right after what’s happened.” And not at your age, he added in his head. He’d sworn to himself that his brothers would have easier childhoods than he had. He would protect them, watch over them, break the trail for them. And here he was dumping more responsibility on Hoss’ shoulders than any eleven-year-old deserved.

Hoss graced him with a large, gap-toothed grin. “You keep apologizin’ like that and I’m gonna start thinkin’ you got plans to make me ride drag the whole way to Frisco.”

Adam laughed and clapped his brother on the shoulder. Gosh, he was lucky to have Hoss. The last three months had been so hard—battling his own grief, damming it back so that he could get up every day and do what had to be done when all he really wanted to do was ride to Marie’s grave and just weep like a child. But if there was one thing he’d learned in his seventeen years, it was that life continued on despite heartbreaking tragedy and there was nothing to be done but to get up each morning and face what had to be faced. Adam truly wondered, however, whether he would have had the wherewithal to continue on without steadfast Hoss at his side.

He heard a knock at the door and answered it. It was Shorty Reeves, the hand that had temporarily taken Adam’s place as foreman while Adam filled in as Boss.

“Adam...” He looked worried, but Adam was too tired to care. For a moment he hoped that Shorty was there to inform him that all the beeves had broken through a fence and drowned in a river, negating the need for the drive. Then he sighed. No, he thought petulantly. I wouldn’t be that lucky.

“Shorty. Come on in. Interest you in a cup of coffee?”

“Uh, no thanks, Adam.” He tentatively moved a few steps into the house and stood there shuffling his feet and nervously playing with the hat he held in his hands.

“Okay,” Adam said wearily. “What’s the tragedy?”

“Well, Adam...See, it’s like this...”

He broke off and Adam raised an eyebrow in question.

Shorty cleared his throat.

“Well see, me and the boys, we went into town last night—you know, on account we’re leavin’ on the drive tomorrow and won’t be back for a few weeks. You know, little down time. Blow off a little steam.” Shorty, who was pushing fifty, looked at seventeen-year-old Adam and smiled nervously like a child about to confess to his father he’d broken the cookie jar.

Adam nodded. “And...?” he prompted.

“Well, we had us a right good time...” Shorty flashed a toothy smile.

“Glad to hear it,” Adam responded dryly, waiting with a sinking heart for the other shoe to drop.

“Boys had a bit to drink.” Shorty’s nervous laugh echoed hollowly through the great room.

Adam closed his eyes. “Is anyone in jail?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Uh, no. No, not no more. ‘Course Sheriff Coffee done threw Ralph and Charlie and me in the pokey fer public drunkenness, but we each done paid a dollar fine when we woke up a few hours ago, and here we are.” Shorty stood a little taller in pride at his ability to account for their whereabouts.

Adam sighed, his eyes still closed. “But...”

Shorty cleared his throat and gave another nervous laugh. “Well, there was a bit of a scuffle down to the saloon—that’s why ol’ Roy done showed up, ya know. And...well, it seems that in all the excitement Old Davey done had hisself a little accident.”

Adam groaned inwardly. Please don’t say it, he thought.

“Seems he up and busted his leg. He’s over to the sawbones having it set, but Doc Martin says he won’t be doin’ no travellin’ for the next couple months.”

Adam reeled and grasped the settee for support.

“So what you’re telling me,” he said slowly, “is that we are leaving for a cattle drive first thing in the morning, and we have a total and complete absence of cooks.”

Shorty scratched his head. “Well, yeah. I guess that’s about the size of it, all right.”

“And are any of the other hands willing to give up droving to fill in for Davey?”

Shorty looked appalled. “Adam! Ain’t none of ‘em can cook! You know that! And I wouldn’t trust none of them to drive that chuckwagon, neither.”

Adam dropped his head in defeat. “Do you know anyone else we can hire at this late date?”

“N-o-o-o-o, not off-hand,” Shorty said slowly. Then he brightened. “Well, there’s Mrs. Rendler. She ain’t got no family, and she can cook right well. And I once saw her drivin’ a mighty big wagon just chock full of supplies.”

Adam laughed hollowly. “Are you suggesting that I hire an eighty-year-old widow to accompany a group of men alone on a month-long cattle drive?”

Shorty frowned. “Ya know, it don’t sound like such a good plan when you put it like that,” he admitted, scratching his head thoughtfully.

“No. No, I don’t suppose it does.” Adam sighed. “Well, go on back to the bunkhouse and tell the hands we’ll be leaving first thing in the morning, anyway. Tell them to get a good rest. And most of all,” Adam wanted to make this absolutely clear, “tell them NO DRINKING!”

Shorty smiled cheerfully. “Will do, Boss. You might wanna think about getting a bit of a rest yourself, today. You’re lookin’ a might peaked.”

“Am I? Am I really?” Adam asked dryly. “Can’t imagine why that would be.”

Shorty grinned, pleased at his having conveyed the bad news to Adam, thereby shifting the responsibility for the problem from his own shoulders. He wandered happily back to the bunkhouse, leaving Adam to sink back into his chair and bury his head in his hands.

Hoss patted his brother on the shoulder. “It’ll be all right, Adam.”

Adam raised his head and stared uncomprehendingly at Hoss. “What exactly do you base that assurance on, might I ask?”

Hoss squirmed. He hated it when Adam talked like that. “Well...it just will. You always manage.”

Adam blinked in disbelief. “Are you seriously suggesting that I fill in as cook?”

“NO!” Hoss said quickly, alarmed. Too quickly.

Adam’s golden-brown eyes glinted with sardonic humor. Both the brothers knew that although Adam was blessed with many talents, a culinary gift was not among them.

Hoss smiled weakly. “You just got too much to do as it is. We cain’t go around overworkin’ ya.”

“Uh huh,” Adam answered dryly. “Well, I guess I’d better go take care of the problem.”

“Whatcha gonna do?”

“Gonna have to bring Hop Sing.”

Hoss stared in alarm. “You cain’t do that! Hop Sing hates cattle drives! Remember the last time Pa tried to make him go on a cattle drive?”

Adam winced at the memory. Hop Sing might not be a big man, but even Pa didn’t have the courage to face up to the cook when he was in one of his tempers. And the idea that he would give up running the house to cook for drovers on the trail had sent him into a temper like none of them had ever seen.

“But he has to understand this is an emergency!”

“Yeah. That’s what Pa thought, too.”

Adam stared hopelessly at his brother. “What am I going to do? I have to have a cook or the men won’t go. And I can’t say I blame them.”

“Adam, is it really so important that we make this drive? We can sell the cows around here. Sure, we won’t make as much for them, but we can make do, cain’t we? We ain’t that bad off, are we?”

Adam’s jaw jutted out in stubbornness. “Pa agreed to sell them in San Francisco. He made a deal.”

Hoss hesitated a moment. “But Adam, if you write ‘em and explain. You know, about Ma and all, they’ll understand.”

“No! Pa made a commitment, and we’re going to fulfill it. A Cartwright always keeps his word!”

“I know, but there are times...”

“No, Hoss! When Pa is ready to take over again, this place is going to have run just as though he’d never left. He’s been through enough, losing Marie. He’s not going to lose his reputation as a rancher, too! I’m going to see to it!”

Hoss shrugged hopelessly. He understood Adam’s need to overcome his own grief by taking the reins and making things easier for others, but privately thought he was going over the edge this time. But when Adam made up his mind there was no stopping him. “Okay, Adam. But I can’t say I envy you the task of tellin’ ol’ Hop Sing whatcha got planned for him.”

Adam stared at him for a long minute, his face pale and drawn, before standing and walking towards the kitchen. “Pray for me, Hoss...” he muttered. “Please pray for me.”

He entered Hop Sing’s domain with undeniable trepidation.

“Hop Sing?” he called out weakly.

Hop Sing peeked around the corner. “Mr Adam need more coffee?”

Adam smiled widely, his dimples showing prominently. “No thank you, Hop Sing. I just thought maybe I could drop in and we could have us a little chat.” He smiled again, but it felt weak even to him, and he gave up, reverting to staring hopelessly at the cook.

Hop Sing’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Mr Adam want talk? What ‘bout?”

“Umm...Hop Sing...it’s been a while since you’ve seen your family in San Francisco hasn’t it?”

Hop Sing nodded slowly, his face still a mask of suspicion as he looked up at the tall young man before him. “Thlee year.”

“Seems to me like it’s about time for you to have a reunion. You know, catch up on things.” Adam smiled again, feeling more and more absurd with every passing moment.

Hop Sing glared at Adam, and for the first time the boy noticed that the cook happened to be holding a very large, very sharp meat cleaver. He jumped backwards in sudden agitation.

“Mr Adam fire Hop Sing?”

“NO! No, of course not, Hop Sing. Whatever would we do without you? I just thought, y’know, that you might enjoy a vacation...” Adam giggled foolishly, his eyes never leaving the cleaver for an instant.

“Why Hop Sing need vacation?”

“Well, Hop Sing, you know how hard you work. Taking care of all of us. Seems to me I ought to offer you a chance to take some time off.”

Hop Sing shook his head and, whether consciously or unconsciously, he waved the cleaver a bit. “Bad time. Need stay here. Mr Cartlight in Texas. Mr Hoss, Mr Adam go drive cattle. Little boy need care.”

Adam had forgotten about Little Joe. At Hop Sing’s words, Adam suddenly realized exactly the extent of the problem he now faced. “Oh no,” he groaned, smacking his forehead loudly in aggravation.

Hop Sing’s eyes narrowed. “Why ‘oh no’?” he demanded.

“Little Joe! I forgot about Little Joe! Hoss! Hoss, get in here!”

Back at the table Hoss heard the sound of a hand hitting flesh, then his brother’s call for help and he jumped up in alarm. Ol’ Hop Sing is so mad he’s gone off and is killin’ Adam, he thought. What am I gonna do now?

His first thought was to run as fast as he could out the door, thinking that if Hop Sing had finally really lost it, the man might make a try for him next. Then he thought of Little Joe.

“Gotta get Little Joe out, “ he muttered, bolting for the stairs.

He entered Joe’s room and found the tousle-headed five-year-old awake and staring at the ceiling. He looked over as Hoss entered, and a delighted smile lit his face.

“Hiya Hoss!” he called happily.

Hoss didn’t answer, instead grabbing the child from the bed and unceremoniously slinging him over his shoulder before turning tail and heading back down the stairs.

Joe’s high laughter rang out. It had been forever since either of his brothers had felt like playing with him. This was wonderful!

As Hoss came galloping down the stairs he could still hear Adam’s voice calling him. He desperately wanted to save Adam, but he had to prioritize.

“Gotta save Joe. Then I’ll come back to save Adam,” he muttered.

Joe laughed again. “Hossy’s savin’ the family,” he called out in sheer pleasure at Hoss’ make-believe.

Just then Adam rounded the corner of the kitchen, his mouth dropping open at the sight of his younger brothers.

Likewise, Hoss’ mouth dropped open at the sight of Adam safe and sound. “You’re alive!” he exclaimed in utter shock.

“Of course I’m alive,” Adam snapped. “What do you think you’re doing? Didn’t you hear me calling you?” He broke off suddenly at the sight of Little Joe’s face alight with glee.

“We’re playin’ ‘Save the Family’,” Joe chirped at Adam. “Hoss is gonna save me first, then he’ll be back to save you! Wait here, Adam!”

Adam’s annoyance suddenly melted and his face softened as he realized what Hoss was doing. He felt a warm glow of love for his younger sibling for taking the time to play with Joe despite all the hard work that faced them. He winked at Hoss then looked gravely at Joe. “All right, Little Joe. I’ll be waiting right here for Hoss to save me,” he told him solemnly.

“Goody! Come on, Hoss! Save me!” Joe demanded, banging his little fists against Hoss’ back.

Hoss suddenly realized his mouth was still hanging open, and closed it with a snap. Then, unsure what to do, he left the house, still carrying his little brother over his shoulder. He let Joe down on the porch and the little boy jumped up and down clapping his hands.

“Now go save Adam!” he demanded excitedly.

Hoss nodded, still somewhat bemused. “Okay Shortshanks. You wait here and I’ll save Adam.”

Joe giggled, and Hoss made his way hesitantly indoors, unsure what sort of reaction to expect from his older brother.

To his amazement, when he walked in, he found Adam standing in the great room with a broad smile on his face. Adam moved forward and Hoss nearly fainted when his shy, reticent older brother who eschewed all open displays of affection, wrapped his arms around him in a huge bear hug.

“That was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” Hoss heard Adam saying. “Little Joe’s really lucky to have you for a brother. So am I.”

Hoss drew away and stared at Adam uncomprehendingly, still unsure whether the older boy was pulling his leg. Finally he shrugged and grinned.

“Well, you know how the young’un’s been feelin’. Needed a little fun.” He glanced surreptitiously at Adam to see if he was buying the con, then grinned smugly at the look of abject pride on his older brother’s face.

Just then Little Joe peeked around the corner. “Hoss!” he called, stamping his foot in annoyance. “Ya gotta save Adam! Hurry up!”

Hoss laughed, pleased with the uncommon feeling of having bested Adam, and promptly picked the older boy up and slung him over his shoulder. He heard Adam’s cry of surprise and laughed louder, Little Joe joining in, and Hoss trotted out the door, intent on making Adam’s ride as bumpy as possible.

He dumped Adam unceremoniously on the porch, and the three boys laughed uproariously until they were breathless, all of them desperate for some pleasure after the pain of the last weeks. Finally Adam sat down on the steps and the Hoss sat next to him. Little Joe stood beside his brothers, wanting more fun.

“Hey Adam! Bet I can run over to the barn and back three times in one minute!”

“Bet you can’t,” Adam responded.

That was all Joe needed, and he was off, his little legs pumping as he tried hard to win the bet. Hoss and Adam watched in amusement, then Adam turned to his younger brother.

“You know something, Hoss? I’m really proud of you. You’re really growing up, taking care of Little Joe that way. Cheering him up. I know he can be a handful, and it’s not like things are easy on you right now either. But you put his needs first, and that really says a lot about you.”

Hoss glowed under his brother’s praise, doing his best to pretend that everything Adam was saying about him was true. Then Adam continued.

“It really makes everything a lot easier, too. I was calling you earlier because when I was talking to Hop Sing, I suddenly realized that if he came along, we’d have to bring Little Joe, too. There’s no way we could leave him with neighbors, not after what’s happened. He’d be too terrified we were never coming back. But how could we bring him with us? You know what he’s like. He’d cause a stampede ten times a day! I haven’t liked the idea of you having to spend sixteen hours a day in the saddle droving, either. And this takes care of everything! I’ll hire one more hand to take your place, then you can watch Joe and keep him out of trouble. The two of you can spend all day wandering along together while Hop Sing cooks, and the rest of us drive the cattle. Then we’ll all have a vacation in San Francisco. It’s the perfect answer!”

He grinned happily at Hoss, and slapped him on the shoulder as he rose to his feet. “I’m going to go tell Hop Sing.” Adam laughed smugly. “Like to see him say no to a cattle drive now, after I tell him you’re taking on the job of watching Little Joe! He wouldn’t dare. He’d be too ashamed!”

Adam grinned at Hoss again, and walked into the ranch house whistling happily and musing on how adult Hoss was becoming. The family was lucky to have him, he thought as he made his way to the kitchen to confront the cook.

Hoss sat still on the porch feeling distinctly as though he’d been hit squarely in the face with a speckled trout. What just happened, he asked himself blankly. He heard a cry and looked around in time to see Little Joe falling headfirst into the pigsty. Apparently while he and Adam had been talking, the child had taken it into his head to walk across the top rail and had missed a step. Hoss stared as Joe came back up laughing, covered from head to toe in muck.

Take care of Little Joe?

“GAAAAAAH!” Hoss cried out in horror at the sudden realization of what he was in for. Joe heard his brother cry out and came running over, leaping on him and covering the both of them in filth.

“I love you, Hoss!” he chirped in pure happiness. Hoss closed his eyes and moaned.

********

The rest of the day passed too quickly for the Cartwrights. Adam and Hoss loaded the wagon after Adam returned from the successful hiring of a hand to replace Hoss and arranging for some neighbors to perform the daily chores while they were gone.

Hoss’ hopes that Adam was simply pulling his leg dimmed and finally evaporated as his older brother chatted on and on about what fun they’d all have in San Francisco once they finished the drive. Hoss kept meaning to admit to Adam the sheer terror he felt at the thought of being responsible for Joe, but the pride in Adam’s eyes every time he looked at Hoss kept him holding his tongue.

Little Joe, for his part, had been so excited when he’d discovered that he would be going on a cattle drive that he could scarcely keep still. He packed and repacked what he was bringing along, but nothing Hoss said could convince the child that he was not to bring every one of his toys. Finally, at his wit’s end, Hoss had placated the rambunctious boy by agreeing to hide all of his toys in a bundle in the chuckwagon, praying that Hop Sing wouldn’t find them. Hoss knew that discovering Joe’s belongings in the wagon would immediately set the cook off. And it wasn’t as though Hop Sing needed an excuse to get angry. He’d been in a foul mood ever since he discovered that he would be spending the next month on the trail. Only Adam’s word that Hoss would be taking full responsibility for Joe had finally decided the issue. And even so, Hoss noticed with trepidation the way that Hop Sing occasionally stood stock-still regarding Adam with a look that reminded Hoss distinctly of a loco wolf just before it pounced.

They started out just as daylight was creeping over the horizon. Adam had plucked a still-sleeping Joe from bed, wrapped him in blankets to ward off the morning chill, and placed him in the chuckwagon, giving Hop Sing orders to notify Hoss to take over the boy’s care as soon as he awoke. Hop Sing muttered something in Cantonese that Adam, with only a rudimentary grasp of the language, didn’t quite grasp, although he was sure he heard his own name pop up a time or two. He beat a hasty retreat from the temperamental cook and called out to the men to begin driving the beeves.

The air was soon alive with the sounds of cowboys whooping, horses neighing, and cows mooing as the great herd began its slow track west.

Adam had never headed a cattle drive before, but he’d been doing ranch work since he was a child and fell into the role with relative ease. The men were experienced. Some were full-time Ponderosa ranch hands, the others, hired drovers that the Cartwrights had used frequently before. They made a good team, working seamlessly alongside one another.

Once Joe awoke, Hoss sat him on the horse before him and the two were content to amble alongside the slow-moving cows, occasionally wandering off a little to explore, though always within sight of Adam and the herd.

At the day’s end, Adam was well-pleased. By his calculations, they’d made a good twenty miles with no mishaps, and if they managed to maintain good weather, he hoped they’d be in San Francisco more than a week ahead of schedule.

He whistled happily as they set up camp, and he sat to next to his brothers, tired but happy.

“You two have a good time today?” he asked.

Hoss shrugged, and Adam thought he looked tired, but Little Joe was full of life, and chattered endlessly about the adventures he and Hoss had experienced during the day. Adam noticed that Hoss seemed less pleased with the day’s exploits, but chalked it up to a long day. He laid down as soon as he finished eating, knowing his watch would be coming sooner than he liked, and immediately fell asleep.

The next day promised good clear weather, and as soon as Adam roused the men he looked forward to another successful day on the trail.

Things went well, and around five o’clock in the afternoon, Adam, who had chosen to ride drag that day, was thinking of calling a halt. Just then, he heard a high-pitched whooping from behind him, and turning in confusion, he perceived Little Joe riding towards the herd as hard as he possibly could, Hoss running behind, waving his hat and yelling. How the little boy managed to stay astride the galloping steed was beyond Adam, and he felt a quick flash of fear for the child’s safety, as well as horror at the strong possibility of a stampede. He kicked his own horse into a gallop, attempting to intercept the boy, but Joe swerved and flashed past his older brother, his face alight with sheer joy. He began to wave his hat as he approached the herd, and his whoops increased in volume.

“Joe, NO!” Adam screamed.

The herd started shifting nervously as the strange, noisy apparition appeared in its midst.

“Cut ‘em off!” Adam yelled. “They’re starting to mill! Don’t let ‘em run!”

The experienced drovers cut the beeves off before they managed to bolt, and Adam caught up with Joe. He clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Shut up! Joe, shut up now!”

He grabbed the boy from his mount, swinging him over onto his own steed and placed a hand over the child’s mouth, galloping far away from the herd. He dropped Joe to the ground and dismounted just as Hoss came running up, huffing loudly at the exertion.

Adam glared at the both of them. “Just what do you two think you’re doing?” he yelled. “Do you realize you almost caused a stampede? What on earth were you thinking?”

Joe smiled up at his older brother serenely. “Me and Hoss was playin’,” he announced happily.

Adam turned to Hoss who was staring intently at the ground. “And just what do you think you were playing?”

“We was playin’ Injuns, of course, “ Joe answered, his tone clearly indicating that his brother was a bit thick if he needed this explained. “We was chasin’ your cows away on account you done drove ‘em over our ancient burial ground.”

Adam clutched at his raven locks and cried out wordlessly. He turned and walked a few steps away from his brothers and covered his face with his hands, breathing deeply. He counted to ten, then twenty. Finally calm, he returned.

“Okay. Hoss, Joe. From now ‘til we make it to San Francisco, no more playing Indians. Understand?”

Joe nodded happily. “Sure thing, Adam. No more Injuns. Come on, Hoss. Let’s go find out if Hop Sing’ll give us somethin’ ta eat.”

Hoss took the reins of his horse and trudged after Joe, head down. Adam fought the urge to shake the boy. He knew Hoss was only eleven, but he should know better then to deliberately spook a herd. Adam shook his head and swung back up in the saddle to help the hands bed the cattle for the night. He resolved to have a long talk with Hoss after supper. He sighed deeply before turning and riding back to the herd.

*******

Adam lay still in the pre-dawn hours. Three weeks we’ve been out here now, he thought. Just three weeks. How on earth can so much have gone so wrong in just three weeks? He thought about the series of misfortunes that had plagued the drive. No, he corrected himself. Not misfortunes. Misfortunes were accidents. There had been no particular accidents on this trip. Everything had been the clear and obvious fault of his younger brothers. If I was an only child, he thought for the thousandth time in the last three weeks, life would be so simple.

Adam ran down the series of problems. He supposed Joe couldn’t actually be blamed for letting the rattlesnake loose among the ranch hands while they slept. Joe hadn’t really understood that it was venomous. And, of course, it had been a miracle that the boy hadn’t been bitten, himself. Not that that had been much consolation to the man who had woken up eye-to-eye with the three-foot creature, sure that his life would be ending in a few moment’s time. It had been a good thing Shorty had managed to shoot the snake, even if it had spooked the cattle. After all, the few hands that had been up and moving at that time of the morning had been able to calm the beeves and halt the stampede after a run of less than ten miles. And miraculously they hadn’t lost any cattle. In the wake of the disaster, Adam tried to convince himself that he should count the stampede as a positive, since it covered quite a bit of ground in a relatively short period of time, but he wasn’t particularly successful. He still tended to think of the episode as a black mark against him as trail boss.

Then there had been the time that Hoss and Joe had failed to show up with the rest of the group at the end of the day. Adam had been forced to backtrack several miles, his heart in his throat the whole time terrified that something dire had befallen his brothers. It had taken every ounce of his willpower not to take his belt to them when he found the two ambling slowly along the bank of the river the herd had been following, gorging themselves on wild blackberries. Not only had it taken Adam over two hours to find them, wasting much-needed time, the two had developed severe stomach cramps that night which had considerably delayed everything the following day. Since Adam refused to allow the boys out of his sight for fear they’d fall behind again, and since one or the other was constantly having to disappear into the bushes with another digestive attack, the entire drive had been slowed to a crawl. Afterwards, Adam had been forced to enact a new rule that no one was allowed to eat berries for the remainder of the drive.

Of course, Adam thought fairly, the boys hadn’t been responsible for the week of drenching rain that had turned the ground to mud and the trickles of streams into raging floodwaters. No, Adam thought, the rain was clearly God’s way of punishing him for some prior misdeed, just as God was obviously punishing him by giving him younger siblings. No, Hoss and Joe weren’t to blame for the rain. What could be laid squarely at their feet however, Adam thought resentfully, was Joe’s decision to use the swollen stream to practice skipping stones once the rains had stopped. Hoss should have realized that Joe couldn’t throw very well yet, Adam thought in exasperation. He should have stopped the boy from throwing rocks at the river just as the men had been attempting to drive the cattle across. Adam winced at the memory of Joe standing on the opposite shore, his face screwed up with intensity, constantly pelting the cattle with pebbles every time they came near the bank.

Then, too, Hoss’ incessant habit of befriending the wrong sorts of people hadn’t exactly been a plus, either. Adam groaned inwardly when he remembered Hoss and Little Joe riding into camp at gunpoint one day after Hoss had stopped to talk to two down-and-out drifters he’d run across and had invited back to camp for a hot meal. Adam was definitely looking forward to selling the cattle, now, so that he could get some money in his pocket again. He’d been forced to give the two kidnappers every cent he had on him and two fresh horses in order to get his brothers back. He’d wondered ever since whether he hadn’t been a blamed fool for paying what the men had demanded. In retrospect, he suspected that if he’d refused to pay, the two men would have been so desperate to rid themselves of the boys that in the space of a few hours they would have been willing to pay him to take the two back.

Then, worst of all, just yesterday, Joe and Hoss had been rambling through the woods when they discovered a huge bee’s nest chock full of honey. The boys had decided to gather some to drizzle on their morning biscuits. Adam supposed it would have been all right if they’d simply have taken a milk pail and filled it with a few scoops of honey. But rather than taking a small amount and leaving the rest, Hoss had simply chopped open the hollow tree and removed the entire nest. Adam supposed he couldn’t blame Hoss for not thinking that that might not be the best plan. After all, for some reason, bees never stung Hoss.

But even so, shouldn’t he have mentioned it to Hop Sing before stowing the pail entirely full of honey and bees in the chuckwagon? The first Adam had known of the problem, he had heard Hop Sing yelling and had turned to discover what was wrong. He had been flabbergasted to see Hop Sing running pell-mell away from the chuckwagon, and the chuckwagon, minus any driver, heading top speed in the other direction. It was only when Adam had intercepted the cook that he had realized that Hop Sing was yelling “Bees! Bees!” at the top of his lungs. Then he had watched in horror as the horses pulled the chuckwagon into the river. A wagon wheel had caught on some stones and the wild, terrified horses had continued to pull until the wheel had cracked, the wagon had turned over and flooded, and the horses had broken free of their encumbrance. Still tethered together, the team had come to a stop on the far side of the river, once they were no longer being pursued by angry, stinging insects. It had taken the rest of the day and into the night to retrieve the horses, fix the wagon, and gather together what remained of the supplies. While Hop Sing had been undeniably pleased to have his pots and pans back, no one had been thrilled to discover that no food supplies remained.

After lying still for some time, Adam scrubbed the sleep from his eyes, though he would have preferred simply rolling over and going back to sleep for a year or two. Then once again he mentally relived every terrible thing that had befallen the drive. Surely, he thought, nothing else can possibly go wrong. The law of averages won’t allow it. He calculated the odds in his head of anything else occurring and, relieved, he rose to his feet and began to rouse the crew. He avoided Hop Sing and his wagon. There wasn’t really any point in rousing the cook, as there was no food to eat anyway, and the wider berth he gave Hop Sing under the circumstances, the better he liked it.

It was an hour later when the herd moved out. Everyone was in a bad mood. But then, Adam mused, missing dinner, then breakfast and morning coffee was just about as bad as it gets. He checked the map, then rode up to Shorty’s side.

“Instead of continuing to drop south here, we’ll go straight west a little while. Take us out of our way, but there’s a settlement there. Not much, but there’s supposed to be a trading post. Shouldn’t take more than one extra day, and despite everything that’s gone wrong, we’ve got the time to spare.”

Shorty nodded, relieved. The men had been grumbling for days, convinced that the drive was hexed. It was only Adam’s sincere threat that they wouldn’t be paid a cent if they left the drive early that kept them from quitting on the spot. But the loss of the supplies had been the last straw. If the men didn’t get some hot food and coffee into them by the end of the day, they’d leave for sure.

The herd came into sight of the settlement around noon, and Adam signaled the men to stop the beeves. Then Hop Sing, with Little Joe in tow, drove the chuck wagon over to the small encampment, stopping in front of the trading post. Adam and Hoss dismounted their horses, making sure to keep clear of Hop Sing’s reach.

“Hoss, you and Joe hang around out here while Hop Sing and I trade.”

“Aww Adam, I...”

Adam glared at him, and Hoss dropped his gaze. Without another word, Adam turned and entered the store. Hoss kicked a nearby rock sulkily. He shot Little Joe a nasty look.

“Don’t know why I always gotta watch out for you,” he complained. “Don’t know why you can’t just behave once in a while.”

Joe’s eyes filled with tears. He idolized Hoss and couldn’t bear the thought that his older brother was angry with him, nor did he quite understand what he’d done wrong. All he’d done was suggest some honey with breakfast might be tasty.

“I’m sorry, Hoss. I didn’t mean to be bad.”

Hoss’ anger melted away instantly, and he grinned, tousling the boy’s hair.

“Aww, it ain’t your fault Little Joe. You didn’t do nothin’. It’s all Adam’s fault, anyway. Always has to be so dadblamed bossy. Come on, let’s take a walk.”

They walked down the line of houses that made up the small settlement. Eventually they reached the last home, little more than a shack, and looped behind it. They discovered a large pen full of pigs. Hoss loved pigs.

“Joe,” he gasped in awe, “Look!”

Joe looked in disdain, less interested in the pigs than he was the dog that was lying beside the pen. “Nice doggy!” he called, holding his small hand out to the canine. The dog came over and Joe’s face lit up with delight. “Looky my doggy, Hoss,” he called.

But Hoss had eyes only for the pigs and immediately draped himself like a dishrag over the top rail of the sty. “Here piggy, piggy, piggy,” he called. At first the fat pigs ignored him, then one particularly hopeful animal dragged itself unwillingly to its feet and began to waddle over to the boy, hoping for a handout.

“That’s right, Piggy. Come on over,” Hoss encouraged it in a singsong voice. The pig made his slow way to the fence, then snuffled at Hoss. “Wish I had something to feed you,” he told the animal. “Come to think of it, I wish I had something to feed myself.”

Although Hoss had nothing to give the creature, he began to scratch it behind the ear. The contented animal began to grunt happily with pure pleasure. Hoss was in sheer paradise, and completely lost track of time. He had no idea how long he’d been playing with the pig, when he suddenly felt a rhythmic tugging at his shirt. He looked down to see Little Joe at his feet.

“What?”

“I’s bored,” Joe announced.

“Why don’t you play with the dog?”

“Doggy’s gone.”

Hoss looked behind himself in surprise. The dog was nowhere to be seen. “Where’d he go?”

Joe shrugged. “Doggy went with piggies. Can we get something to eat now?”

A sense of abject fear was now creeping up Hoss’ spine. Slowly he turned back to the sty, then cried out. The sty gate was standing wide open and the only pig left inside was the one Hoss had been petting and on whom his entire attention had been focused. His mouth dropped open in horror.

“How’d the pigs get out?”

“I wanted to see the piggies so I opened the gate,” Joe answered. “Then they left,” he added sadly.

Just then a voice came from behind them. “Hey you there! You kids! What are you doing with my pigs?”

Hoss whirled around and found himself face-to-face with a very large, very red-faced, very angry man. He gulped.

“Gee, Mister...”

The man had now gotten a good look at the sty. His eyes widened in shock. “My pigs! Where are my pigs?”

He grasped Hoss by the arm and shook him. “What are you doing? Where are my pigs?”

Hoss attempted to speak despite the violent shaking that was making the world around him spin. “Didn’t mean it, Mister. My brother just...” Hoss broke off, not wanted to get the man angry at Little Joe. It was too late. The man turned and glared at the little boy who had wedged himself between his brother and the pigsty.

“Did you do this, you little scamp? Get over here, I’m going to...”

At the implied threat, Little Joe, already frightened, completely lost his head. He opened his mouth. Hoss, who was well-aware of his brother’s unmatched vocal capabilities, managed to clap his hands over his ears just in time.

“A – A – A – A – A – A – D – A – A – A – A – M – M – M – M – M – M!” the little boy bellowed.

The man, unprepared for the blare Joe had let loose, shrieked in response. “Shut up, Kid! What are you doing?”

Joe continued unabated. “A – A – A – A – A – D – A – A – A – M – M – M – M – M – M!”

The man made a grab for Little Joe, who promptly bounced out of his grasp, still yelling.

The angry pig owner continued to chase Joe, who constantly danced about, evading him, and clamoring for his big brother.

Finally, Hoss heard quick footsteps muffled by the grassy plain, and turning, saw Adam running wildly toward them, his gun drawn, fear and worry clear on his face.

“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” he called, frantically looking about for the source of Joe’s clear terror.

The pig farmer turned and glared at the young man who’d run up, completely dismissing the boy’s drawn gun.

“You responsible for these two?” he demanded.

Adam paused, confused, and re-holstered his pistol. “Yes, Sir, I suppose I am.”

“Then what are you planning to do about my pigs?”

Adam blinked in confusion. He saw only one pig, and there didn’t appear to be anything wrong with it. “Umm...what pigs?”

It was the wrong thing to say. The man let loose with a string of verbiage that promptly caused Adam to clap his hands over Joe’s ears, frowning. “Hey! Watch your mouth!”

The man stopped swearing and moved forward until he was mere inches from Adam’s face.

“I want my pigs back,” he hissed dangerously. “And you are going to get them for me. Aren’t you?”

Adam stepped back in alarm, nodding vigorously as he attempted to manhandle his brothers behind him to protect them from the madman. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’d be happy to help you,” he answered soothingly. “If you’d just be good enough to explain what happened to your pigs and where they are.”

“Adam...” Hoss began.

Adam kicked the boy into immediate silence, still smiling winningly at the enraged farmer.

“I don’t know where they are,” the pig man replied, his voice clipped, and cold as ice. “But I suspect these two do, as they were the ones that let them loose.”

Adam closed his eyes. I should have known, he thought. I just should have known. He turned slowly and regarded his brothers, his eyes glittering dangerously.

“Just what did you do this time?”

Hoss squirmed. “See Adam, it’s like this...”

“Never mind.” He turned back to the pig man. “My brother and I will retrieve your pigs. I promise.”

“Yes,” the man nodded. “I know you will.”

The implied threat did not escape Adam’s attention, and, a sick smile pasted on his face, he leaned back from the man as far as possible without knocking over his brothers. “I was...uh...just at the trading post and I...uh...have to get back to finalize things. Then I’ll be right back to find those pigs of yours.”

The man smiled. “Why don’t we all go? I’ll escort you there and back so you don’t get lost.” He took Adam by the arm and half-walked, half-dragged him back to the trading post, his brothers trudging behind.

Not only did Adam strongly resent being dragged about like an errant schoolboy, he really didn’t want to return to the trading post and face Hop Sing’s unmitigated wrath. When Hop Sing had discovered that Adam had no money left and was reduced to trading anything of value for the necessary supplies—including several of Hop Sing’s pots, pans, and utensils--the string of words that had come raging out of his mouth had made Adam profoundly grateful that he didn’t have a clear grasp of Chinese.

They arrived sooner than Adam would have liked, and found that the supplies had been loaded in the wagon. Then Adam, with a clear quaver in his voice, explained to Hop Sing that he and Hoss would be busy with other matters for a time and that Little Joe would be remaining at the drive with Hop Sing until they returned.

At the news Hop Sing drew himself up to his full height. Adam shrank back in fear. Never before had he noticed the short Chinaman’s astonishing resemblance to Goliath.

“You say Mr Hoss watch little boy. But now say Hop Sing watch little boy. You make Hop Sing go cattle drive. You give way Hop Sing dishes. Now you make Hop Sing nussmaid! Hop Sing quit!”

“Hop Sing...please....” Adam began in terror. Oh, Pa’s gonna kill me for sure, he thought desperately.

“Hop Sing no listen Mr Adam. Hop Sing go San Francisco, live with family who no take Hop Sing for granted. Hop Sing leave chop chop.”

He headed determinedly towards the wagon muttering furiously but was interrupted by a howl of despair from Hoss.

“Hop Sing! You cain’t leave! I’ll starve! Hop Sing...”

The farmer interrupted. “I want my pigs!”

“...chop chop...”

“...starve...”

“...pigs...”

“...doggy...”

“...bees...”

“...hungry...”

“...little scamp...”

“SHUT UP!”

Adam clapped his hands over his ears to block out the cacophony of voices. “Shut up. Everyone, just shut up and listen to me. Hop Sing, go back to the herd. You have to get to San Francisco anyway, so you can just wait to quit ‘til you get there. Joe, get in the wagon and don’t give Hop Sing any trouble. Mister, go home. We’ll get your pigs, but I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth. Hoss, get the horses and let’s get busy. Everyone, MOVE!”

In that instant Adam Cartwright so resembled Ben Cartwright in both look and manner that the crowd of voices went silent as everyone stared, flummoxed, at the raven-haired young man.

After a moment Hop Sing and Joe clambered in the wagon and drove away. The pig man turned and silently left for home. Adam turned and glared at Hoss who flinched in response.

“You...”

Hoss nodded, suddenly too frightened to speak.

“You and I are going to round up those pigs. And you don’t get one bite of food until every last one of them is safe and sound back in that pen. Am I understood?”

Again Hoss nodded mutely.

“Right. Then let’s go.”

Adam vaulted on his horse and rode off without a backward glance. After a moment Hoss diffidently followed.

*********

Adam shifted in the saddle, more weary than he ever remembered being in his life. Thank God they were almost there. His eyes searched endlessly for a sign of buildings on the horizon. He knew they were only scant miles from their destination now. Already they were passing homesteads that marked the outskirts of the large city. And none too soon, he added grumpily in his head.

Hoss and Little Joe were so excited that they could barely keep themselves under control and had been driving Adam to distraction with questions about what there was to do in a big city. At the moment, however, Adam felt that he would happily trade every opera house, every theater, and every bookstore in San Francisco for a soft bed and a hot, hearty meal.

Adam frowned at the thought. He hadn’t had a decent meal since they had left the settlement. Hop Sing kept “forgetting” to put aside a plate for Adam, and since he was always the last one done with the work, the food was always gone by the time he showed up for his meals. Adam had been surviving primarily on dry biscuits without honey for the last four days, and his insides kept making sounds vaguely reminiscent of a rockslide, only, Adam reflected, on a much grander scale. What made it worse was the hint of a smile playing at the corners of Hop Sing’s mouth every time he heard the rumblings proceeding from Adam’s belly. That man is a conniving skunk, Adam reflected sourly. One day I’m going to pay him back for this.

On the plus side, he mused, at least Hop Sing had agreed not to quit after all—although it had taken the doubling of his wages for the duration of the trip to extract the promise from him. Adam had decided that once his father got home he was going to force him to stay—even if it took hog-tying to keep him there. Adam had had all he wanted of shouldering responsibiltiy.

Finally, on the horizon, the city was coming into view. Whoops rose like music from the drovers as they pushed the cattle harder, desperate for the drive to end.

They reached the stockyards, and Adam scanned the corrals for the name he was looking for. Finally he saw it. Bryan. He closed his eyes, saying a prayer of silent thanks, and rode ahead to greet the workers who would relieve them of their burden. He frowned as he realized that the corral was already full of cattle. Blast, he thought in irritation. I suppose we’ll have to use their spare corrals. They’d better not make me drive these ornery cows too far. I’ve had about as much of these smelly creatures as I can take.

He dismounted and strode up to the man who appeared to be in charge. “Afternoon,” he greeted the man. “Name’s Cartwright.”

The man nodded. “Carter. What can I do for you?”

“Got your beeves. Where you want ‘em?”

Carter frowned. “Not expecting any cattle. As you can see, we’re full up.”

“This Bryan’s stockyard?”

“Sure.”

“Then you’re expecting my beef. Just tell me where you want them.”

“Look, Kid. You’ve made a mistake. Check your contract, and I’ll point you where you’re headed.”

Adam sighed and pulled his copy of the contract out of his vest pocket. “I’m afraid the mistake is yours. Look.” He showed the man the particulars. “Five-hundred head of cattle to Bryan’s Stockyard in San Francisco. Delivery by this Friday. We’re here, and three days early.”

Carter examined the document and shrugged. “I don’t know, Mr Cartwright. I wasn’t told to expect you. You’d better go talk to Mr Bryan.

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose as he attempted to control his overwhelming aggravation. I am never going on another cattle drive as long as I live, he vowed. He stalked away from the corral toward the office, fuming. Someone was going to answer his questions, and right now!

He entered the office and greeted the clerk behind the desk. “Afternoon. I’m looking for Mr Bryan.”

The clerk nodded at the cowboy, surprised at the age of the youth. Usually it was the ramrod or trail boss that dealt with the buyer, and a boy this age couldn’t be the boss.

“I’ll tell him you’re looking for him, Mr...”

“Cartwright.”

The clerk frowned. “Cartwright?” he repeated, seemingly perplexed. “From the Ponderosa?”

Adam nodded curtly. “That’s right. Like to know why Bryan’s men aren’t letting my herd into the stockyards.”

The clerk gaped at Adam a moment longer, then indicated a chair. “Have a seat, Mr Cartwright. I’ll just go fetch Mr Bryan.”

“Thank you,” Adam replied, sitting tiredly.

He waited, nearly nodding off, then heard the rear door opening again, and the clerk reentered the room, flanked by a large, beefy man in his mid-fifties, his thinning hair silver, his pleasant face ruddy.

“Mr Cartwright.”

Adam smiled and rose, grasping the proffered hand. “Mr Bryan?”

“That’s right. I admit I’m surprised to see you here Mr Cartwright.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “Surprised? We’re well within the timeline, Mr Bryan. I confess I do not understand why your men are refusing access to my herd. I was under the impression that my father had made a deal with you for the delivery of five-hundred head of cattle.”

A strange look crossed Bryan’s face and Adam felt his temper rising higher.

“Your father,” Bryan repeated absently.

“Yes,” Adam snapped. “My father, Ben Cartwright. I understood that the two of you engaged in extensive negotiations and had agreed to the delivery no later than three days from today’s date.” Adam held up his copy of the contract for emphasis.

Bryan bit his lip. “Mr Cartwright, is your father along with you?”

Adam stood a little straighter and raised his chin with near-defiance. “My father is in Texas, Mr Bryan. I’m heading this drive.”

Bryan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know how to break this to you, Mr Cartwright, but your father wired me over three months ago explaining that he’d suddenly lost his wife, and would be unable to fulfill his obligation. We agreed to break the contract.”

Adam blanched and reeled, feeling his insides freeze. “I...I beg your pardon? He wrote and told you about Marie? You’ve broken the contract?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. He must have neglected to mention it to you. I’m, sorry, Mr Cartwright, but I made a deal with another rancher. They brought their herd in yesterday. I’m afraid I can’t use any more beef at the moment.”

Adam blinked owlishly at the man for a long moment. “Please excuse me,” he said politely, passing a hand weakly over his brow. He turned to the wall and began methodically banging his head. “’When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but battalions’,” he muttered in rhythm to his banging.

Bryan and his clerk exchanged a wary glance, hoping the apparently ill boy wasn’t prone to violence. “That so?” he asked soothingly, not having a clue as to what Adam had just said, and deeply nonplussed at the boy’s bizarre behavior.

Adam nodded, sadly. “Shakespeare,” he added.

Bryan and his clerk were good, honest businessmen, but not widely-read. The name meant nothing to them. “That right?” he replied, beginning to think that perhaps the boy was suffering a touch of sun fever.

Adam nodded again. “Slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.”

Bryan smiled askance, convinced now that the young man wasn’t right in the head. No wonder he brought those cattle all the way here after his father cancelled the drive, he thought. Stark, raving mad. Ought to be locked up somewhere with a keeper. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” he managed to say, wanting the boy far away from himself and his business before the no-doubt imminent crack-up occurred. “Well, if you’ll excuse us, Mr Cartwright, we’re about to close for lunch.” He took Adam forcibly by the elbow and escorted him firmly to the door.

Adam walked out and stopped on the stoop, turning back to the men. “The best-laid schemes of mice and men gang aft agley,” he quoted with great solemnity. “Burns.”

Bryan’s eyes were now wide with fright. He’d never particularly cared for men suffering from delusions. “No doubt. No doubt. Well, good day to you, Sir.” He slammed the door and locked it.

Adam still stood on the stoop staring blankly at the office door. “But what am I supposed to do now?” he asked plaintively.

After a long moment of standing frozen in one spot, he squared his shoulders and began to walk back toward the herd. “Right. Motto of the Round Table. Adopt, adapt, and improve. Time to improvise.”

He rejoined the rest of the cowboys. “Okay, men, move ‘em out.”

Shorty raised an eyebrow and spat a stream of tobacco juice on the ground. “Move ‘em out where?”

“Just back a few miles.”

The men glanced at one another. “Sure, Boss,” Reynolds said. “But, uh, why?”

“Gotta put ‘em somewhere ‘til I sell ‘em.”

“Why you gotta sell ‘em?”

“Because that’s what we’re here for.” Adam stood as tall as he was able and lifted his chin proudly. “Aren’t these the best cattle west of the Mississippi?”

The men nodded easily. Cartwright beef was undeniably prime.

“Best cattle deserve the best price, and I aim to see we get it, that’s all.”

“Uh, Boss? Don’t you have a contract?” Shorty asked dubiously.

Adam cleared his throat. “Contract isn’t a contract if they don’t aim to pay,” he sidestepped neatly. “Move ‘em out.”

The men obliged and as soon as the herd was bedded down in a green pasture, Adam rode back to town and into the first stockyard he came across, not caring which he chose, his one and only thought to sell the cattle and get back to the Ponderosa where he belonged just as soon as humanly possibly and forget this dreadful drive had ever occurred. He began to hope that his father would remain out of his head with grief long enough that he wasn’t likely to look back in the account book and find the evidence of this fiasco. Adam felt a trifle guilty hoping his father experienced extended pain, but wasn’t at all convinced that if his father found out about this that he wouldn’t take off his belt and tan him. He might be seventeen years old, but there were times his father tended to forget that, and he suspected that the wake of learning of this drive would be one of those times.

Adam dismounted and sidled diffidently into the small office. He smiled nervously. “Umm, hello,” he greeted the clerk behind the shabby desk, smiling feebly. The clerk barely acknowledged the boy.

“Well?”

“Umm. Buyer around?”

“Why you wanna know?”

“Got me some cattle...” Adam trailed off hopefully.

The clerk sighed deeply and pulled himself resentfully to his feet. “All right. I’ll get him.” He began to leave, then turned back to the young cowboy. “Don’t touch anything,” he warned suspiciously. Adam jerked upright from the leaning position he’d assumed against the desk and moved back against the wall.

“Yessir,” Adam responded meekly, a seventeen-year-old’s fear thick in his voice. He stood alone in the room, attempting to get a handle on his nerves. He’d been with his father while he sold cattle many times, but this was his first attempt at doing it alone. He was almost panicking with fear, accentuated by the unwelcome memories of the disastrous trip, and the firm knowledge that he simply could not face driving those cattle back home again. Gotta sell those cattle, Adam told himself. Gotta get a good price. So get a hold of yourself.

Just then the door opened with a bang. Adam jumped, letting out a squeak of terror. Then he recovered and smiled nervously at the tall, thin man with the greasy hair that had appeared in the doorway.

“Well?” the man barked.

Adam opened his mouth and nothing came out. He stood staring at the man, his eyes wide, his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.

“Out with it, Boy! You want something or don’t you?”

Adam finally found the wherewithal to speak. “Beef?” he asked, doing the best he could under the trying circumstances. It was not a good speech.

The man frowned. “You want some?”

“No! No, I got some. Cattle that is.” Adam managed a weak smile. “Buy them?” he asked hopefully.

The man scowled. “How many you got?”

“Five-hundred head.”

“Give you five dollars a head.”

“Five dollars?” Adam asked in horror. “No! No, these are prime beef!”

The man shrugged. “Fine. They’re as good as you say, and I’ll give you seven and a half.”

Adam winced. The contract his father had originally secured had paid the Ponderosa forty dollars a head. “Umm...well, I was hoping for fifty,” Adam said, smiling ingratiatingly.

The man snorted. “Good-bye, Kid.” He turned and began to walk away.

“Wait!” Adam cried desperately. “Wait! Don’t go! We can haggle! Really, I’m open to haggling!”

“Fine. Ten dollars a head. High as I’m going, Kid.” The man smiled at Adam, a sneaky, slimy smile that sent shivers up and down the boy’s spine. Adam suddenly recognized that smile. It was the same one he had once seen on a gunslinger’s face just before he had pulled the trigger of his gun and shot and nearly killed his father. Suddenly his nervousness evaporated replaced with a burning fury: at the man, at the situation, and, most of all, at himself. He raised his head, glaring directly at the man.

“I apologize for taking your time,” he said coldly. “Good day to you, Sir.”

He turned and walked out, giving himself a brutal talking-to. Adam, he told himself, that was the absolute worst attempt to sell beef that has ever been undertaken in the history of mankind. You didn’t show the slightest business sense. Let them walk all over you. Are you a Cartwright, or aren’t you? Get a hold of yourself, man, and do this thing right. For the sake of the family! Be brave; be bold; succeed!

He swung back up in the saddle in a determined manner, and rode down the street, viewing the string of stockyards with a critical eye. This time he made his decision based on reason instead of nervous fear. Once he’d decided, he dismounted and walked with an assured air into the office.

He smiled boldly at the clerk, holding out his hand. “Name’s Cartwright,” he announced cheerfully. “Like to see the buyer.”

“Yes sir,” the clerk answered respectfully. “I’ll get him for you, Sir.”

“Thank you,” Adam said with a boldness he didn’t actually feel. He put his hands behind him to hide their nervous shaking.

A moment later the clerk reappeared with an older man, his pleasant, open face friendly and kind. Adam relaxed a bit.

“Mr Cartwright, I’m Bret Taylor. I understand you have some livestock to sell?”

Adam relaxed further at being treated like an equal. The man’s blond hair and blue eyes reminded him of Hoss, and he suddenly felt an odd kinship to the man.

“Yes sir,” he said cheerfully. “I find myself with five hundred extra head of first-class prime beef, and liking the look of your establishment, I thought I’d give you first crack at them.”

Taylor smiled widely. “Well, that’s just fine. I’d like to take a look at them. Where are they?”

“Just a few miles outside town.”

“Excellent. I’ll get a horse and we can ride out to see them.”

Adam nodded and a few minutes later he found himself riding side-by-side with the older man out to the sea of cattle.

The buyer’s eyes lit up at the sight of the cows. He was an experienced cattleman and knew prime beef when he saw it. He nodded absently as he toured the herd, examining them with a practiced eye. Finally he turned back to Adam.

“What price you asking for them?”

Adam froze, then plunged in boldly. “Sixty dollars a head.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “Steep price.”

“Prime beef.”

Taylor nodded, looking over the mass of beeves once more. “I’ll give you forty.”

Adam pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Fifty-five.”

“Forty-five.”

“Fifty-two and-a-half.”

“Forty-seven and-a-half.”

“Fifty.”

“Deal,” Taylor said quickly.

The two shook hands, grinning at one another.

“We’ll move the animals to your stockyards immediately,” Adam told him.

“Excellent. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr Cartwright. I look forward to future transactions.” Taylor mounted his horse and headed back to town.

Adam’s head was swimming. I did it, he thought gleefully, as he watched the cattle buyer riding out. I did it. He suddenly gave a wild whoop and thrust his fists in the air. “I did it!” he yelled, jumping high into the air. “Yes! I did it! It’s all over! It’s finally all over! This revolting drive from hell is finally over!”

He turned back to the rest of the group, a broad smile crossing his face, then suddenly realized the men were all staring at him, flabbergasted at the dignified young man’s uncharacteristic lack of control. Adam flushed crimson and cleared his throat. “Move ‘em out,” he muttered. “Move ‘em out.” The herd began to move. The nightmarish drive was finally over.

*******

Adam relaxed in the boys’ suite later that afternoon, feeling very pleased with himself. He’d paid the hands, including a fat bonus. He had a small amount of cash in his wallet and a bank draft for the remaining amount of money in his pocket. He was looking forward to a few days of rest and relaxation. The regular hands would be accompanying them back to the Ponderosa in a week’s time, and Hop Sing would be coming by stage the following week.

He stretched on the bed listening to the sound of his brothers’ voices in the adjoining bedroom. They’d all had hot baths—Joe’s strongly against his will—and Adam had shaved. They had clean clothes, soft, warm beds, and no further financial worries. Adam felt himself happily drifting off when he heard Hoss’ voice calling him.

“Adam?”

“Yeah?” he mumbled, his eyes closed, wave after wave of drowsiness washing over him.

“When we gonna eat?”

Adam had forgotten he’d offered the boys a sumptuous meal in the dining room. But he was just so tired.

“Wanna take a nap first.”

“Adam, we’re hungry!” Hoss whined.

“All right,” Adam mumbled sleepily. “I left my billfold on the bureau. Take some money and you and Little Joe go ahead to the dining room. I’ll eat later.”

“You sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Sleepy.” He felt himself drifting off, then a sudden stab of suspicion made his eyes fly open, and he sat up quickly.

“And you two listen to me,” he said grimly. “To the dining room to eat, then right back up here. You understand? Not one step out of this hotel. I mean it!”

“Aww, Adam...”

“No, Hoss. Not one step. Promise me, or you’ll just have to wait for dinner ‘til I wake up.”

Hoss shuffled his feet. “Just a quick look around?” he wheedled, using the tone that he knew from experience Adam was rarely able to withstand.

“No!” Adam snapped, his tone making it clear he would brook on opposition on the point.

Hoss scowled. “Oh, all right.”

“Good. I’ll see you when I wake up.”

Adam closed his weary eyes and almost immediately fell into a dreamless sleep. Two hours later he awoke, feeling refreshed and ravenous. I’ll just pop in and see the kids, he thought, then have something to eat, and we can talk about what we want to do with our vacation.

He walked into the sitting room that separated the bedrooms, expecting to see his brothers. It was empty, so he proceeded through to the other bedroom. He froze. It, too, was empty.

“Oh no,” he nearly wept. “Not again...”

Adam raced out of the room and down the stairs at top speed. He bolted into the dining area and scanned the room frantically. Hoss and Little Joe were nowhere to be seen.

“May I help you, Sir?”

Adam turned and found himself face-to-face with a middle-aged woman with a kind look about her.

“I’m looking for my brothers,” he answered in great agitation. “The older one is eleven. A big eleven; blond. The other one’s a five-year-old kid with brown curly hair. I sent them down here to get some dinner and they’re not back yet.”

The woman smiled. “Oh yes. I remember them. The older one certainly knows how to eat properly,” she said with distinct approval. “And the little one was just about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Such sweet boys.”

Adam simply nodded, not bothering to refute the obvious error of her last statement. “Yes ma’am. That’d be them. Do you know where they are? How long ago did they leave?”

“Well, it seems to me that they must have left about forty-five minutes ago. I can’t say where they went, but I can tell you they wanted ice cream for dessert and were mighty disappointed we didn’t have any. They asked me where to get some.”

Adam closed his eyes in despair. When I get a hold of them, he thought furiously, not finishing the threat. Even in his mind he couldn’t come up with a suitable punishment for this crime. “So they’ve gone to get ice cream.”

“Well now, I don’t know about that. When they found out we didn’t have any, they managed to settle for slices of cake. And the big one had two slices of apple pie, as well,” she added, sounding very gratified.

Adam shook his head, resignedly. “Ma’am, my brother always has room for ice cream, I don’t care how much he’s eaten. Can you tell me how to get to the ice cream shop?”

“Of course. Just out the door and straight east for two blocks. I’m sure they’re fine, young man. Not much can happen between here and there.”

“Forgive my correcting you, ma’am, but my brothers can get in trouble standing in one place. Thank you for your help, ma’am.”

Adam rushed out the door and proceeded down the street at a near gallop. He’d made it one block and began scanning the street for an ice cream parlor, when he heard a high-pitched giggle coming from the inside of one of the establishments. That’s Joe, he thought in excited relief. He looked to see what business he was in front of, expecting to see well-dressed ladies and gentlemen at little tables enjoying an after-dinner dessert. His mouth dropped open. It was a saloon.

They wouldn’t, he thought in shock. Oh, yes they would, he answered himself grimly. They’d do it in a heartbeat.

He took a deep breath and plunged inside.

The sight that greeted him made his knees go weak. Hoss sat at a table, one half-full and several empty beer steins on the table before him. A scantily clad woman sat in one of the other chairs, and Hoss was smiling at her in a slightly bemused way. Even worse, Little Joe was sitting squarely in her lap and looking as though he was having the time of his life.

“Hoss!” Adam thundered across the saloon. “Just what did you think you were doing bringing Little Joe into a bar?”

Hoss turned at the sound of his brother’s voice. He smiled happily, opened his mouth to answer, and belched loudly instead. He and Joe laughed uproariously at this, and the woman giggled as well. Adam did not. He strode over to the table, his long legs navigating the floor rapidly.

Hoss waved affably at him. “Howdy, Brother,” he slurred.

Adam grabbed him by the shirtfront and pulled him to his feet, his face mere inches from Hoss’. “Why...are...you...drinking?” he slowly snarled through clenched teeth.

Hoss grinned happily. “Ever tried this here stuff, Adam? Right tasty once you get used to it.”

Adam shook his brother. “You brought Little Joe into a saloon! Are you nuts? What’s wrong with you? If Pa finds out about this he’s going to kill me!”

Mentioning Joe’s name suddenly reminded Adam that the boy was somewhere he most definitely ought not to be. He let go of Hoss’ shirt, turning to the child. Hoss promptly fell heavily to the floor. Adam stepped unconcernedly over him and grabbed Joe off the girl’s lap, setting him on the floor.

“You come here, young man!”

Joe grinned happily. “Looky, Adam. This here’s Sally. She works here. Know what, Adam? Know what? She sure don’t look nothin’ like Shaughnessey!”

“You’re not supposed to be looking!” Adam snapped, clapping his hand over the boy’s eyes, much to Joe’s annoyance. He made several attempts to remove Adam’s hand, all in vain.

Sally frowned. “Hey, we weren’t doin’ nothin’. Let the boy alone.”

Adam turned to her, his eyes blazing. “You stay out of this. These are my brothers, and they’re my responsibility. I don’t want them in a bar, and I don’t want them associating with you!”

Sally’s eyes sparkled in anger. “Why? What’s wrong with me? I don’t believe you’re brother to these two. They know how to treat a lady!”

Just then the bartender, hearing the angry voices, walked over. Although Adam was nearly six-feet tall, this man towered over him and was close to twice his weight.

“We got a problem here?”

Adam glared at him. “We have a problem, all right,” he said, still covering Joe’s eyes despite the boy’s constant attempts to remove the encumbrance to his vision. “Perhaps you’d like to explain to me why you’re giving alcohol to an eleven-year-old boy.”

The barkeep frowned. “Who’s eleven?”

Adam gestured with his free hand to Hoss, still lying happily on the floor. “He is. And as far as I can tell, you’ve sold him six beers. And you let a five-year-old hang out with your saloon girls! Aren’t there any laws in this town?” Adam had worked himself into a righteous anger, and his voice had risen to a near shout.

The big man frowned. “Matter of fact, we do have laws here. We have laws against people bothering folks. So I suggest you take yourself outside before I call a policeman.”

“Go ahead and call one!” Adam shouted. “I’m pressing charges against you!”

Just then, a passing officer entered the saloon, having heard the shouts from the street.

“Chet,” the policeman greeting the barkeep. “What’s going on?”

The bartender indicated Adam. “This man’s causing a disturbance, Officer. Get him outta here.”

The policeman surveyed the scene, taking in the angry Chet, the supine Hoss, and the outraged Adam still holding his hand over his little brother’s eyes. Finally he shrugged.

“Okay, you’re under arrest,” he told Adam in a bored voice. “Come with me.”

“I’m under arrest!” Adam shouted. “I’m under arrest? He sold beer to an eleven-year-old! I’m just trying to get my brothers out of a saloon. Why am I under arrest?”

The officer shrugged. “Frankly, Kid, they don’t pay me enough to worry about it. Come along quiet-like or I’ll have to restrain you.” He began to pull Adam along with him.

Adam resisted. “Hoss!” he yelled at his brother. “Get up right now and take care of Little Joe!”

The policeman increased his pressure on Adam. “Come along now, Boy.”

Hoss good-naturedly pulled himself to his feet and stood swaying slightly while Adam glared at him. He thrust Joe into the younger boy’s arms. Joe took the opportunity to look back over Hoss’ shoulder, a huge grin on his face.

“Bye, Sally!” he called happily, waving vigorously.

Sally giggled and waved back. “Bye, Little Joe. Hope to see you again.”

Hoss carried Joe out of the saloon, who continued to wave until he could no longer see the girl.

The four walked down narrow, twisting streets until they arrived in front of a building clearly labeled “Jail.” They all waked in, and Hoss immediately put Joe down and slumped into a chair, yawning hugely.

“All right, Officer,” Adam began tiredly. “I still say you shouldn’t have arrested me. But I’ll pay the fine. How much is it?”

“Two dollars.”

Adam glowered. “Fine.” He reached into his pocked and suddenly realized he’d left his billfold at the hotel. “Oh, no,” he groaned. He kicked Hoss none too gently, interrupting the gentle snores the boy had begun to emit. “Hoss, I forgot my wallet. Give me two bucks.”

Hoss came awake enough to process that information. “Uh, ain’t got none left, Adam. Done spent it all on dinner.”

“Dinner and beer,” Adam corrected nastily. “Well then, you’ll have to return to the hotel and get my billfold and come back. And I’ll keep Joe with me,” he added darkly, “since I can’t seem to trust you to watch him.”

Hoss pondered this for a long time. “How’s your billfold gonna help anything?” he asked finally, showing great interest.

Adam closed his eyes and counted to ten. “You know, Hoss, alcohol doesn’t really seem to agree with you. Seems to interfere with your thought processes, which really aren’t any too swift to begin with. Might want to avoid it in future.”

Hoss attempted to decipher this. It proved too difficult, and he abandoned the effort. “How’s your billfold gonna help?” he asked again.

Adam raised a hand to swat his brother over the head. Then, with a sidelong glance at the two police officers who were standing nearby and watching the exchange with great fascination, he restrained himself. “They’ll let me go if I pay them two dollars. I don’t have two dollars. You don’t have two dollars. Joe doesn’t have two dollars. My billfold does have two dollars. So if you go get it and bring it back, I can pay them and we can all go back to the hotel.”

Hoss stretched and closed his eyes again. “Billfold ain’t got two dollars,” he commented sleepily.

“Excuse me?”

“Billfold had fifty dollars. I needed it for dinner.”

“You took all the money and spent it in one afternoon?” Adam cried out in horror. “How on earth could you spend fifty whole dollars in one afternoon?”

“Well, there was dinner...”

“And beer,” Adam supplied.

Hoss grinned. “And beer. And you know that cute little gal down to the saloon? Danged if she weren’t short of funds. Like to have nowhere to sleep ‘less she paid the rent.”

Adam stared at his brother, then dropped into an empty seat as he felt his legs giving way beneath him. “You gave the rest of our money to a saloon girl?”

Hoss frowned. “Well, I had to, Adam. She needed it.”

“I need it!”

“Not like she does!”

“Hoss!” Adam shouted. “You go back to that saloon and get our money!”

Hoss looked shocked. “I will not! You cain’t take money back from a lady! Wouldn’t be right!”

“It’s not right to send me to jail because she has our money!”

“Why you have to go to jail?”

Adam cried out, clutching at his hair. “Why do I have to have brothers?” he asked of no one in particular. “Why can’t I be an only child?”

Hoss crossed his arms and glared at Adam. “Just use the money from the drive,” he commented in a tone that implied that his brother was considerably short on brains.

Adam dropped his head into his hands. “That’s a bank draft, Hoss,” he said in resignation.

Hoss shrugged. “So?”

“So it isn’t cash!”

The police officer who had arrested Adam had been following the conversation, but appeared to have grown bored with the brotherly squabbling. “Look, Kid. You gonna pay the fine, or do you want me to lock you up?”

“I can’t pay the fine,” Adam answered hollowly. “Not ‘til the banks open in the morning.”

“Well then I reckon you’d better come with me.”

“What about my brothers?” he asked brokenly.

The officer shrugged. “Oh, they’re free to go. Might be a good idea if this one slept it off.”

Hoss had been half-listening, and stirred himself. “Okay,” he said cheerfully, holding his hand out to his younger brother. “Come on, Little Joe, let’s go back to the hotel and get some sleep.”

“All right, Hoss,” Joe answered agreeably. “Can we stop by and see Sally again?”

“Oh no!” Adam rose to his feet and blocked the exit. “You’re not leaving my sight again. Officer, lock us all up.”

The officer looked vaguely affronted. “I can’t do that. What’ve they done?”

“What’ve I done?”

“Disturbing the peace. Now come on.”

Adam drew himself to full height. “If you attempt to lock me up without my brothers, you will see my real ability to disturb the peace,” he replied with great dignity.

“Hey,” Hoss protested. “Just ‘cause you got in some dumb trouble, it ain’t our fault. I ain’t gonna go to jail for you!”

“Why not?” Adam asked in a spiteful voice. “Apparently I’m going to jail for you! Officer, lock us up.”

The two officers looked at each other and shrugged. “You’ll have to pay for their board,” one of them warned Adam.

“Fine, fine. Just lock us up. And don’t you dare let them out!”

“But I don’t want to go to jail!” Hoss objected. “Just ‘cause you cain’t pay your fine don’t seem like me and Little Joe oughta be punished.” He looked at the policeman. “Do we hafta stay, just ‘cause Bossyboots here says we do?”

The policeman shrugged. “Far as I’m concerned, Kid, you got every right in the world to leave.”

Hoss grabbed his younger brother by the hand and headed to the door. “Come on, Little Joe.”

“Hoss!” Adam screeched. “Don’t you dare go away and leave me here alone! This is all your fault!”

Hoss thought about how Adam had saddled him with caring for Joe throughout the month-long cattle drive. He turned back and gave his brother a sunny smile. “I’ll just go ahead and use your bed, Adam, seein’ as how you won’t be needin’ it. We’ll see you in the mornin’. Sleep well.”

He took Joe’s hand and walked out, hearing behind him his older brother’s voice. “You just wait! I’ll get you for this, Assassin!”

The two found their way back to the hotel, and retired to bed.

********

As soon as the banks opened, Adam, accompanied by a policeman, cashed in the bank draft he had kept hidden in his pocket since the moment he’d received it the day before. When Adam had informed the clerk that he wanted the entire draft cashed the clerk had unsuccessfully attempted to dissuade the young man from such a rash course of action. It simply wasn’t safe to wander around with the streets of San Francisco with that amount of money, he argued. But Adam was immovable. There was no way he was going to be caught without cash again. He stuffed the huge amount of money into his pockets, paid the two-dollar fine and returned to the hotel where he settled the boys’ bill. Then he slowly climbed the stairs and let himself into their suite. He glowered darkly when he heard loud snores emanating from one bedroom. He poked his head into the other room and found Joe sleeping peacefully. Then he crept noiselessly into his own room and grasped the pitcher of water from the washstand. He moved towards the bed and stood there, watching Hoss’ deep, untroubled sleep. After reflecting a moment on his own long night on a bedbug-ridden, lumpy mattress behind bars, with a drunk cellmate who insisted on entertaining the prisoners all night with off-key Irish shanties, he very deliberately turned the pitcher upside-down sending a wave of cold water splashing over Hoss’ face.

“Rise and shine, Assassin,” Adam sang out cheerfully.

Hoss came awake with a start, coughing and choking. He opened his eyes and perceived his older brother gracing him with his signature smug smile.

“Dadburn you, Adam!” he yelled, rising to a sitting position on the bed. Then he moaned and put his hands to his temples. “Oh, my head...”

Adam plopped down beside him on the bed, taking care to jostle Hoss as much as humanly possible. He slapped the boy on the back, making him cry out anew. “Now what you have there,” Adam said conversationally, “is a hangover. I believe in technical medical parlance it’s known as ‘Just Desserts.’ It’s generally suffered by those who sell their kinfolk down the river without a second thought.”

“Shaddup and leave me alone,” Hoss muttered, wondering if he was going to die soon. He sincerely hoped so.

“Not feeling too well?” Adam asked sympathetically. “That’s a shame. Well, I expect some fresh air and exercise will have you feeling right as rain in no time.”

Hoss glared balefully at Adam. “Don’t want no fresh air. Don’t want no exercise. Just wanna sleep.”

“That right? Well, Little Joe and I are going to go down and get some breakfast. Don’t want any?”

“Not hungry...” Hoss muttered.

“Well, that is a first, isn’t it?” Adam responded pleasantly. “Sure you don’t want anything? Last chance for some good, hot cooking...”

Hoss shook his head violently at the thought of food, immediately regretting the movement. “I’ll wait’ll lunch.”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong, Brother,” Adam replied in a bright, cheerful tone. “You won’t be eating lunch at the hotel, because by lunchtime we’ll be long since back on the trail and as far from this accursed city as it is humanly possible to be.”

“What?” Hoss exploded, immediately wincing in response to his own raised tone. “We just got here yesterday!”

“Yes, that is true. So very true. And we’ll be leaving today.”

“But...but...”

“You see,” Adam expounded in the slightly-pontificating manner of a schoolmaster explaining a simple fact of life to a particularly dense student, “the fact is that we were going to stay here for a week so that we could have a little fun. And the way I see it, why, we’ve had enough fun to last us for years. After all, you trotted off and got yourself pickled to the gills, and I’ve had the entirely unforgettable experience of spending my very first night in jail. And really, can any man ask for more? So I’ve paid our hotel bill, and I’ve told the hands that the three of us will be returning without them. After Joe and I eat breakfast, you and I will be purchasing some supplies for the drive home, and then we’ll all be heading out.”

Hoss stared at his brother in horrified astonishment. “But Adam...”

Adam slapped the boy’s back with great vigor. “Go ahead and go back to sleep, Brother. I’ll wake you when Joe and I are finished with breakfast.”

He got up from the bed and, flashing his younger brother a bright and sunny smile, exited the room.

*******

“Think I’ll stop here and water the horses.”

No answer to the statement was forthcoming, and Adam glanced sideways at his brother who sat, mule-faced, at his side on the wagon bench.

“Still not talking to me, huh?” he continued conversationally. “Don’t suppose I can really blame you, not getting all those experiences in San Francisco you were dreaming of. But I gotta tell you...you’re gonna have to talk to me again sooner or later. After all, Pa’s likely gonna kick the bucket in another forty or fifty years. Then we’ll have to discuss his funeral arrangements.”

Hoss’ sole response was a significant glare that promised impending retribution.

“Hey,” Adam objected. “At least you got to drink beer and meet a saloon girl. Pa wouldn’t’a let you do that...”

“Pa wouldn’t’a made me go on a three-hundred mile cattle drive only to turn around the next day and go back home,” Hoss snapped, finally prodded out of his self-imposed silence.

Adam pulled the horses to a stop as he considered that. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he conceded. “But then, Pa would’a made you stay home on the ranch in the first place. At least with me you got to look around a bit. Have an adventure.”

Hoss clambered out and, glaring, untied the two saddle horses from the back of the wagon. “Adventure? That what you call taking care’a Little Joe for a whole month? Adventure? Pa musta done dropped you on yer head when you was a baby, Adam, ‘cause you just ain’t got no sense.”

Adam huffed as he unhitched the horses and led them to the stream.

“I think I liked it better when you weren’t talking to me.”

“I think I liked it better when Pa was runnin’ the ranch, ‘stead’a you!”

“I think I liked it better when I was an only child!”

“I think I liked it better when...”

“Hey Adam!” Joe stuck his head out of the wagon, interrupting the escalating spat.

“”What?” Adam snapped. He didn’t appreciate being interrupted. He’d just thought up a particularly stinging insult and was eager to voice it.

“When we gonna get home?”

“Like I’ve been telling you every day for the last week and a half, we’ll get there when we get there.”

“You said yesterday we’d be home today.”

“Well, if you already know the answer, why you askin’ the question?”

“Dang, Adam. How come yer so grouchy?”

“Because I had the unmitigated misfortune of being born.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs as long as we’re watering the horses.”

“Okay.” Despite the temporary dampening effect of Adam’s crabby manner, Joe’s sunshiny disposition was quickly restored. He jumped out, ran to the water’s edge, and, pulling off his boots, he waded into the water and began noisily chasing minnows. Adam and Hoss, their recent disagreement forgotten, watched the playful child in amusement. Soon the older boys were in the water alongside their brother and the three laughed, wading and splashing, and losing themselves in the pleasure of the moment.

It was, perhaps, their preoccupation that allowed the two outlaws to walk up on them unawares.

The first the boys knew of the men’s presence was the cold click of a pistol being cocked.

Almost as one, the Cartwrights turned and stared in shock at the two men who stood at the river’s bank, guns drawn. The five stared silently at one another for a long moment. It was Little Joe who finally broke the conversational impasse.

“Howdy,” he piped up cheerfully. “Pa says you ain’t s’posed to point guns at folks.”

“That right?” one of the men drawled in response. “My pa never told me that. I remember him sitting me on his knee and saying ‘Reggie, if you ever think there’s gonna be shootin’, always make sure you’re the shooter and not the shootee.’ My pa always did give good advice. Come on outta the water there.”

Adam’s hand hovered near his pistol, wanting to try for it, but unwilling to put his brother’s lives in danger.

Reggie noticed the movement and shook his head. “Not that’d be a right stupid move, Boy. Bill,” he added, addressing the other man, “get that gun.”

Adam handed the pistol over to the shorter, blond outlaw, then headed out of the water, Little Joe in his arms, Hoss close at his heels.

“So,” Reggie asked cheerfully. “Where ya headed?”

Adam pursed his lips and remained silent. Hoss, however, always polite and helpful to a fault, had no such misgivings.

“We’re headed home. Ponderosa.” He saw the glare Adam directed his way, but couldn’t fathom a reason for it. Adam sure can be cranky sometimes, he reflected.

Reggie looked thoughtful. “Ponderosa. That a good-sized spread just a few miles east of here?”

“Yep, that’s the one. We own it,” Hoss added with obvious pride.

Adam felt his heart sink as he saw the two outlaws giving one another a long, appraising look. He made a mental note to strangle Hoss as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

“So where you been?”

“Frisco.”

“What were you doing there?”

“We’re moving there,” Adam announced, holding Little Joe even more tightly, and unobtrusively stepping on Hoss’ foot.

“Nuh-uh, Adam. We was sellin’ our cows,” Little Joe corrected, not grasping the intent of the signal Adam was attempting to send. “And stop squishin’ me!”

Reggie cocked an eyebrow at Adam. “Well, which is it?”

Adam watched him warily. “It’s both. We just got done with a cattle drive and now we’re heading back to the ranch to pack up our belongings. We’ll be moving as soon as we can get everything together.”

Bill frowned. “Thought that Ponderosa was right profitable. Why you leavin’”?

“My pa just lost his wife. He’s tired of ranching and just wants to leave.”

Reggie raised an eyebrow. “You expect us to believe that?”

“I don’t care what you believe,” Adam answered coldly. “Frankly, I don’t care to discuss our family problems with a couple of strangers with guns in their hands.”

“Where’s the money you made from the drive?”

Adam snorted. “Where you think? In the bank in San Francisco.”

Reggie cocked his head. “Y’know what I think? I think you’ve got that money right over there in the wagon.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Fine. If that’s what you think, then why don’t you look?”

“I intend to do just that.”

He proceeded to tear apart the wagon, scattering the contents carelessly onto the ground, and in the process, wounding Adam’s tidy soul. Eventually Reggie gave up, having stripped the wagon clean without discovering so much as a nickel.

“Well?” Adam asked dryly. “Believe me now?”

“No. Give me your billfold.”

Adam looked affronted. “No. That’s mine, not yours. Go get your own billfold.”

A bullet suddenly whined off a rock at Hoss’ feet, making the boy yelp in sudden surprise. Without another word Adam handed over his wallet.

Reggie grabbed it from the boy’s hand and opened it eagerly, his face avaricious. Then he frowned as he pulled out the scant few bills he found inside. “What’s this?” he asked harshly.

“It’s a billfold. You can tell by the money and identification inside,” Adam replied sweetly.

Reggie strode over to the young man and pointed the gun towards his head, completely ignoring the child Adam held in his arms. “Quit the smart-mouth, Boy, and tell me where the rest of the money is,” he snarled coldly.

Joe, who until then had been observing the man with nothing but curiosity, suddenly felt a strong stab of fear. He knew that guns could cause death. He wasn’t entirely sure what death was, but he knew it had happened to his mother, and now she wasn’t around to sing to him and hug him before bed. He didn’t want that to happen to Adam, too. He suddenly began to sob and a dark stain slowly spread over his trousers.

A strongly ammoniac smell suddenly reached Reggie’s nose and he immediately scrunched up his face in revulsion. “Yewwwwww...” he groaned in horror.

Adam, too, turned his head away from the little brother, attempting to not breathe too deeply. He lowered Joe and placed him on the ground.

Reggie waved his hand before his face to dissipate the smell, then motioned to Adam and Hoss. “You two, hands in the air. Now.”

Adam and Hoss glanced at one another, then warily did as the man told them. Bill approached them and Adam felt the man’s hand’s as he quickly patted down first Adam and then Hoss.

“Nothing,” Bill reported cheerfully.

Reggie frowned, and, not trusting Bill’s opinion, patted the boys down himself. Then, finding nothing, he stepped back in frustration.

“All right. Where’s the money?”

Adam sighed hugely. “I already told you,” he replied in obvious annoyance. “It’s in the bank. May we go now?”

Reggie scanned his eyes over the wagon, now empty, to the horses standing by the stream, to the boys standing barefoot before him. His eyes lit up. “Aha!”

He ran over to the boys’ boots and turned them upside-down, shaking them vigorously, his face expectant. There was nothing.

The man swore in irritation. “I know they’ve got it on them. I just know it!”

He looked back, observing the three: Hoss, mildly interested, Adam, darkly sardonic, Joe, sobbing and pressed up against Adam’s leg, much to the older boy’s obvious distaste. Reggie’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Little Joe.

He started towards the boy, his hands out, and an angry look immediately crossed Adam’s face. He pushed Little Joe over to Hoss then stepped between Reggie and both his brothers.

“You keep your hands off him!” Adam said in a coldly dangerous voice.

Reggie laughed. “That’s where the money is, isn’t it? On the kid.”

“I’ve told you and told you. The money’s in the bank. You don’t want to believe me, you want to search me and Hoss? Go ahead. But you leave the kid alone. He’s just lost his mother, and you’re not going to scar him further. Leave him alone!”

But Adam had forgotten about Bill. He sneaked up from behind and grabbed Little Joe.

Joe shrieked and began to fight the man. Bill held on gamely for a moment, and then, a strange look crossing his face, he dropped the boy to the ground.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh!” he yelped. “The kid pooped all over me!” He sprinted top-speed to the stream, his hands held out before him as though they were on fire. He dropped to his knees by the water and began scrubbing himself viciously.

Reggie, after glancing in annoyance at Bill, headed toward Little Joe, himself. He came within three feet of the boy when suddenly his face twisted in horror. He clapped a hand to his nose and backed away.

“Okay. Okay. I believe you. Bill, take the horses, grab what you can of the supplies and let’s get out of here!”

The two quickly packed the wagon horses with supplies, saddled Adam’s and Hoss’ riding horses, and, mounting quickly, rode away at a rapid pace.

The Cartwrights watched them leave in stunned silence.

“I should have expected it,” Adam finally remarked absently. “Everything else that could possibly go wrong did. Only stands to reason that we’d be robbed, too.”

“What’re we gonna do, now?” Hoss asked glumly.

“Reckon we’ll walk,” Adam answered. “But first,” he added firmly, “we’re going to change Little Joe!”

Two days later, foot-sore, tired, and hungry, they limped into the yard of the ranch house. Adam lowered Joe from his back and moaned with relief. The three shuffled tiredly to the front door and Adam unlocked it. He started to enter, then turned and looked hard at his brothers.

“Just one thing before we go in,” he said, his voice cloying in its sweetness. “I just want to tell you both that if anybody ever breathes a word of this fiasco to Pa, I will personally rip his head off and make him eat it. Am I understood?” He smiled pleasantly at the looks of horrified fear on the faces of the younger boys. “Excellent. Well, then, welcome home.”

The three walked in and slammed the door loudly behind them.

********

Adam and Hoss gazed sourly at their father and brother who were holding their aching sides as they wiped tears from their faces.

“Glad you found it so amusing,” Adam commented dryly. “I’ll have you know it wasn’t nearly as much fun to live through as it apparently was to hear about.”

“An’ I dunno why yer laughing, Shortshanks. Most everythin’ that went wrong on that trip can be laid right at yer feet.”

“Now...” Ben started, wiping his eyes. “You can’t blame Little Joe. He was only five years old.”

Adam and Hoss rolled their eyes and exchanged a long-suffering look.

“Must be nice to be the youngest,” Adam noted. “No responsibility.”

“Yep,” Hoss agreed. “Some folks done got it made.”

“Well, Adam,” Ben pointed out, “everything that happened is really your fault. You were the one who decided to take a child on a cattle drive.”

“My fault?” Adam exclaimed, stung. “What about you? Maybe if you had told me you’d cancelled the drive, we all could have stayed home where we belonged. I was just trying to be a responsible son and take care of the ranch!”

The comment, and implied criticism, was not well received by Ben, who fixed Adam with a look that he suddenly remembered from extremely unpleasant trips to the barn. He scrunched down slightly in his blue chair, causing Joe to begin his wild cackling anew.

“By the way, Adam,” Joe said, having finally calmed enough to speak. “What did you really do with all that money?”

Adam’s face suddenly cheered and he looked at Hoss in triumph. “Shall I?”

“Yeah, Brother. Go right ahead.”

Adam turned to Joe with a superior smile on his face. “One thing I always knew about you, Joe. You could always be counted on to soil yourself in times of crisis. Fortunately I had the money in an oilskin pouch, so while I was holding you, I just shoved it down your trousers and waited for nature to take its course. As, of course, it invariably did.”

Joe looked horrified, and for the first time all evening Hoss and Adam began to laugh.

“What’s the matter, Francis?” Adam asked sweetly. “You’re not laughing anymore.”

Joe glared at Adam. “I don’t believe for an instant that’s really what you did with the money,” he announced. “And don’t call me Francis!”

Just then Hop Sing walked in to retrieve the dessert dishes. He looked at the boys curiously and turned to Ben who was laughing heartily at Adam’s newest revelation.

“Why ha-ha?” Hop Sing asked.

“Adam was just telling us the story of how the boys went on a cattle drive when Joseph was five.”

Hop Sing turned sharply to Adam, who’s smug look immediately vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden look of abject fear.

“What Mr Adam say? We aglee nevah to mention!” Hop Sing snapped at him.

“I’m sorry, Hop Sing,” Adam answered in a panicked voice. “But Pa asked me straight out...” He broke off as Hop Sing began muttering rapidly in Cantonese.

Hop Sing turned from Adam, and, completely hidden from the boys, he graced Ben with a small, secret smile before heading back to the kitchen still grumbling unintelligibly.

Ben laughed to himself as he thought of his boys banding together to run the ranch in his absence. He looked at his three sons: Joe horrified, Hoss pleased, and Adam still staring after Hop Sing’s retreating back with a vague look of terror on his face. He shook his head. Without a doubt, he thought to himself with genuine and humbled gratification, I am the richest man I know.

THE END
March 2005

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