THE GUNFIGHTER

By JULES

On the outskirts of the town, Joe and Cochise came into view. Joe saw a small broken
down wooden sign on the roadway. Nailed over the top half of the sign was a piece of flat wood, where the name of the town should have appeared. But the town’s name had been
blackened out by charcoal and was unreadable.

The bottom half of the sign bore the letters POP 3

As he continued riding, Joe was unaware of several sets of eyes watching them from roof tops and alleyways. He didn’t sense the rifles pointed at him, ready to prevent any escape.

Thomas’s instructions had been clear, not to shoot unless absolutely necessary. They were
to wait until he was lured into the livery stable and then Butch would take care of the capture
of Joe Cartwright personally.

Sitting in the saddle, Joe was tired, and his posture told the story. His shoulders were slumped, his hat sitting lower on his brow and he was leaning forward over Cochise’s neck.
A sudden whinny from the horse startled Joe, making him sit up a little more in the saddle
and take a look around at where they were.

“What is it, Cooch?” Joe muttered in a sleepy voice, giving the horse a reassuring pat. Maybe
a cat or something had startled his horse.

“Sure is a quiet night here tonight,” Joe spoke to his horse, noting the silence that greeted him
as he rode along the street. There was no evidence of the trouble that his father had stated in
his telegram. Although late at night, it struck Joe was unusual that there wasn’t a sole about.

Joe rode a few more metres, cautiously wondering where everyone was, when he saw something familiar. There was a livery stable on the right side of the street, with the doors
open and a dim light coming from within. Tethered outside on a hitching rail, was Buck, his
father’s recognizable horse.

Joe looked about, but couldn’t see any sign of his father. The fact that the horse was fully
saddled and outside meant that Ben couldn’t be too far away. The Cartwright family took
pride in looking after their horses, no matter what hour of the day. Perhaps Ben was inside
getting ready to settle his horse for the night after a long day of sorting out the troubled town.

“Pa?” Joe said as he dismounted from his horse, tethering Cochise beside Buck and beginning to walk into the stable in search of his father, he thought to be nearby.

“You in here, Pa?” Joe asked, closing his eyes briefly against the change of light. The night
outside was pitch black, but the inside of the building was shrouded by the dim lights of lanterns.

Joe had just removed his hat and wiped away the dust that had settled on his forehead.
Suddenly from behind, something struck him hard in the back of the head. He fell face first
onto the straw that covered the floor of the livery stable.

Barely clinging to consciousness, Joe reached to the area of his head that had been struck,
trying to remove the small pieces of straw from his mouth and nose. He could feel the stickiness of the blood that was present.

Joe tried lifting his head to look about the room. He couldn’t see his assailant and could only
make out barely recognizable shapes of horse stalls on the opposite side of the room.

The weariness from the journey added to the confusion and fuzziness in his head. His mouth
was dry, and he needed a drink of water. He was attempting to turn over on his back, the dizziness disorientating him even further.

Joe did not feel the toe of Butch Thomas’s boot nudge him in the ribs, but briefly felt himself
moving. By the time his body came to rest on his back and his face was visible, Joe had lost
his battle with consciousness. The hand he had been using to try and rise fell limply to his side.

Butch didn’t make any comments at first. A little disappointed that his prisoner had not been conscious long enough to note his presence, but there would be plenty of time later for Joe to
know who had struck him.

The young man was definitely older, Butch noted to himself. A little more muscle bulk in a few areas, no doubt from working more on the Ponderosa. He saw the gunbelt around Joe’s
hips and smiled to himself. Yes, he had grown up since their last meeting, but just how much
was yet to be determined.

“Put the horses away,” Butch said to one of the men before striding out of the livery stable.

On the outskirts of town, the sign that Joe had noted on the way, now appeared a little different. The breeze had blown away the loosely nailed board from the top of the sign, and
it now read:

THOMASVILLE

POP: 15

to be continued…………………………………………………………………….

The room was illuminated by the dull glow of lanterns placed in several places.

The temperature in the room earlier in the day had been stifling, with very little ventilation in the jailhouse at all. There was a staleness to the air and a musty smell as though the place had been disused for a lengthy period of time.

Now it was hours later with the sky outside pitch black and shrouded in the veil of night. But the
drop in temperature did nothing to cool the anger of Ben Cartwright or his two oldest sons.

A few minutes had passed since the two bounty hunters had lowered their guns and left
the jail house. Their leaving gave no comfort to the Cartwright family that was still imprisoned by the bars of the cell.

Ben’s sense of helplessness and anguish about the fate of his youngest son was almost tangible.
His vision fixated on the dirt floor beneath him, but his thoughts certainly of Joseph and of finding
a way to warn him to stay away.

There had to be some way. The realisation that Butch Thomas was behind this town and the
events that had led up to their capture made the need more desperate with each passing minute.

Ben had balled his hands into fists and his nails dug into the skin of his palm with the level of
frustration that he was feeling. Looking over at Adam and Hoss who were sitting on the other
side of the cell, the expressions on their faces displayed their concern for their brother.

“We can’t just sit here,” Ben shouted, jumping to his feet. “Joe’s life is in danger out there,”
he continued, knowing that his two eldest sons were well aware of what was at stake.

“There ain’t much we can do for him in here, Pa,” Hoss said, stating the obvious. “Those two
fellows that just left are just itching to shoot us through these here bars.”

“And probably a few more outside in the street,” Adam added for good measure.

The conversation between the Cartwright family was halted as heavy footsteps could be heard
approaching from outside. There was more than one person coming in.

The wooden door was thrown wide open and something could be heard to be scraping along the
hard floor. The large frames of the two bounty hunters obscured the view momentarily of what it was that was being dragged.

Following behind the two bounty hunters, Butch Thomas stood in the doorway, a large cigar
clenched between his teeth.

“Put him in the cell next to them,” Butch ordered, his voice cold.

It was only as the two men moved to obey Thomas’s command that Ben’s heart was torn from
his chest.

“Joseph!”

The sight of his son’s unconscious body came into view. Fresh blood was beginning to stain one side of the young man’s face.

“Animals! Nothing but animals” Ben accused.

“Oh don’t worry there, Mr Cartwright,” Butch gloated. “Seems he got a little bump on the head.”

“No need to do that to him, no need,” Ben growled at Thomas through the bars. His hands gripping the bars until the knuckles were almost white. He could feel the anger in him grow.

Adam watched the as the door was opened and the limp form of his youngest brother was
hauled into the cell. Even with the poor light in the room, Joe’s lack of movement concerned him greatly.

“Why are you putting him in a different cell?” Adam growled. “Can’t you see he isn’t fit to
go anywhere.”

“I promise that none of you will be going anywhere” Butch snarled.

“At least give us some water to be able to help him,” Ben demanded.

“Out of the question, Ben Cartwright,” Butch stated firmly. “Letting you help him is exactly
what I want to avoid.”

What happened next, confused the Cartwright family even more. One of Butch’s men had a coil of rope gathered in one hand and now proceeded to kneel beside the unsuspecting Joe and loop
it around his ankles.

“What are you tying him up for?” Ben asked incredulously. “Joe isn’t in any shape to be escaping.”

“That is what I thought last time too, Mr Cartwright, but your son was more resilient than I gave him credit for. I will not make that mistake again,” Butch retaliated. What he didn’t tell Joe’s family was that he was not expecting Joe to escape at all, rather to remember the past.

Once the man had lashed Joe’s ankles together, he tied the young man’s hands in front of him,
laughing as he glanced once at the unconscious face.

If the Cartwrights had been shocked by Joe being tied whilst unconscious, they certainly were not prepared for what was about to occur. After a curt nod from Butch, the man took two pieces of
coloured cloth from his pocket.

The first was tied as a blindfold around Joe’s eyes, the second fashioned into a gag and jammed in his mouth. A faint groan could be heard coming from his lips as the man forced his mouth open, but any noise was soon muffled by the cloth.

The gag in the boy’s mouth hadn’t been part of his torment back at the shack. At that time, Butch
was convinced that the boy would be too knocked out from the ether to make any sort of noise
and they were too far away from any form of settlement for the kid to scream out for help.

With the young man back in his merciless grasp, Thomas didn’t see a problem with digging the barb of torment in a little bit further, for both Cartwright junior and his family in the next jail cell.

“You can’t do that!” Ben roared at Thomas, his anger stirring at the seemingly endless lengths this man was prepared to go to torment his son.

Butch gave a cruel grin, but didn’t give any further explanation for Joe’s bonds. The men followed
Thomas out and the Cartwrights were left alone in the Jailhouse, three of them forced to keep a watchful vigil over the fourth.

Ben didn’t even wait for the door to fully close before he was reaching his hand into the adjoining cell as far as it would stretch, trying to reach his injured son.

Looking at Joe, he could see dirt on the young face and his clothes were crumpled from riding in the saddle all day.

Joe didn’t show any sign of movement, even with his father’s desperate attempts to reach him.
The distance between Ben’s finger tips and the back of his son’s shirt was a mere few centimetres, but that only tormented him further.

So close, separated only by feet, but seemingly so far away to offer any genuine help when Joe
needed it the most.

Ben let out another groan of exertion as he butted his shoulder against the bars and reached his
arm through to the other cell as far as it would go. By now he was laying on the hard floor, but he
barely noticed.

“Joe,” Ben called out softly, trying to rouse the boy.

From the angle at which he lay, Ben was unable to determine the full extent of his son’s injuries.

The three of them had briefly seen the blood on the side of his face as he was unceremoniously hauled into the cell, but there wasn’t enough light in the cells to take stock of any more serious injuries that might be present.

“There isn’t a drop of water in here that we can use,” Adam said with distain, scouring the small cell that was their prison.

The cell they occupied was devoid of anything and so was the smaller one next door. The floor
was hard, and the dust had accumulated on its surface in a thick blanket.

“Let me try, Pa,” Hoss suggested.

Ben looked up at his larger son dubiously, knowing that if he wasn’t able to reach Joe, then Hoss
would not fair any better.

“Alright,” Ben replied simply, not wanting to dash Hoss’s hopes altogether.

Hoss laid down on the floor, but on his stomach, rather than on his side as his father had done.
He licked his dry lips for a moment, and pushed his meaty arm through the bars.

Unfortunately his reach was even shorter than Ben’s, “Dadburnit, Pa, if I wasn’t so flaming well big,” Hoss reproached himself as he stood up.

Ben clapped him on the shoulder for reassurance, “At least you tried.”

“I don’t know if I am going to be do anything differently,” Adam said as he prepared to reach his
arm through the bar. The dust on the hard floor was soon all over his trademark black shirt
and pants, but right now he didn’t even give it a thought.

Ben sat back on the floor, closest to the bars that separated him from Joe. Hoss remained standing, but on the opposite side of the cell, and Adam was crouched in the adjacent corner.

For now, they could do nothing but wait until Joe began showing some signs of regaining
consciousness and moved sufficiently enough that they could reach him and help.

The three eldest Cartwrights had very little to say to each other over the next hour as they
kept their silent vigils. The only thing they had currently to be thankful for, was that their
jailers hadn’t returned and neither had Butch Thomas.

Hoss was remembering how he had felt the day they had driven the wagon back after the
trial in Virginia City. He had tried to avenge his brother for the endless hurt and suffering that he had caused Little Joe. He had pummelled Butch Thomas until the man bled, and he had gone
to jail.

Little of that mattered or made sense now to the big man, as he watched his brother lying on
the floor. Somehow Butch Thomas had done what he threatened and lured Joe here to this
deserted town.

Adam wore a grim mask on his face as he recalled how long it had taken Joe to recover from
his last encounter with Thomas. His brother had lost some of his youthful innocence the day he had been kidnapped and been forcibly taken away from his family.

Although they had nursed him back to health and been there when the nightmares were at their worst, he could never be convinced that Joe hadn’t been changed by the whole ordeal.

The sound of footsteps brought the three eldest Cartwright’s out of their lost thoughts, and they prayed in earnest that it wasn’t Butch Thomas returning to start tormenting Joe already.

The young man still laid quietly on the floor, and still had not awoken to any of their pleading, silent prayers or calling of his name.

Frank Fulton walked into the jailhouse, carrying three pails of the gruelled mixture that was to serve at the night’s supper.

“Come eat up Cartwrights, you have to keep up your strength,” he sneered from the other side of the bars.

Hoss took the food through the bars, scowling his displeasure at what they were supposed to call food. There were a few other choice words he could think to call it, but nourishment wasn’t one of them.

Fulton also gave them a canteen of water. It wouldn’t last the three men very long, but Thomas wasn’t going to take the risk of opening up the cell door and give any of the family the chance of escape.

“What about Joe?” Adam asked the man, noting that there was no fourth morsel of food, however unappetizing it might look.

“Doesn’t look like he is in any shape to be eating, does he now,” Fulton retorted.

“How about some water for him, please,” Ben asked, too politely for how he was feeling, but his son’s life was at risk, and he was being forced to ask these men to help Joe when he was prevented to do so.

Fulton turned and gauged Ben for a minute, thinking that Thomas’s plan to break both the father and his son, were both well in hand at the moment. He could see Cartwright’s anguish like a stain across his face.

The man didn’t doubt that Ben would be willing to sell his very soul to the devil himself if he thought he was helping the boy in the next cell.

“Sure,” Frank said finally, turning away and grabbing a bucket half filled with water and walking towards Joe’s cell.

“Here you go, kid, you Pa and brothers there want you to have some water,” Fulton said to the unconscious youth on the other side of the bars.

Just when Ben and his boys though the man might show a smidgen of compassion for Little Joe,
the man showed just how callous he could be by throwing the tepid water, through the closed cell door, dousing the boy with the contents from the bucket.

The water soaked into Joe’s shirt and the top half of his trousers, but Joe only offered a small groan in response to the saturation. It wasn’t enough to bring him out of his grey prison.

Fulton put the bucket on the floor of the jailhouse and laughed heartily at the lack of response that he received from the boy. He also took pride at the hostile looks he had been able to invoke from the rest of the Cartwright family at his little stunt.

The door to the jailhouse closed and the Cartwright were left again with their silence and the darkness of the prison cells.

The three eldest Cartwright members found themselves taking up the same quiet vigils as they had done earlier. Each of them took a small amount of water from the canteen to hold off their thirst, but they wouldn’t take anymore until Joe had awoken.

There was no guarantee that any of them would be afforded more water in the next few hours, and reserves were very low.

They were unable to find sleep, Ben still trying on several occasions to reach back through the bars once more and try and reach his fallen son who was still bound tightly.

In the darkness, there was little they could do while they waited for Joe to show signs of waking up, except remember back three years ago to when this nightmare had all begun.

Adams thoughts were a mixture of recent events, such as the death of Tom Withers and how much Joe had struggled over the previous few weeks with the accident.

Joe had gone from having to stay with the badly injured man, not knowing when or if help would arrive. When they had reached the sawmill and seen the damage to Tom, Joe had blamed himself for what happened, despite reassurances from his family that was nothing he could have done differently.

Then the news about Tom Withers had done from bad to worse when the man had taken his own life by hanging. Joe seemed to battle inwardly more with that than the accident itself, falling into what his family perceived as a state of depression.

Adam didn’t know if Butch Thomas had any knowledge at all about this latest blow to his brother’s self-confidence, but could help but feel a stab of fear about old wounds that were going to be disturbed all over again by the man’s mere presence in Joe’s life again.

Hoss’s thoughts swirled around the night that they had returned from Virginia City and found the broken crutch at the bottom of the staircase. That single act of cruelness from Thomas had sent shivers of fear through them all about what might have happened to Joe.

As it happened, they had found him stuffed into the coat closet, bound and gagged. But he had seen his brother’s fear after he had awoken from such a traumatic event. Right from the very beginning, Joe had feared that the man responsible would come back.

At first, they had all thought that although the fear was genuinely justified, they had promised the boy that the man wouldn’t get to him again. They had sworn to Joe that they would protect him,
only to learn weeks later during the trial of Danny Griffiths that no only had Thomas returned one, but three times.

Even being so bold as to snatch the boy outside the courtroom and rekindle the fear once more.
The man had then been so callous as to sit in the courtroom on the next day as Joe gave his heartbreaking account of what had happened at the line shack.

After Joe had been shot by Thomas, the family had a tough time reiterating their promise that they would protect him from such a thing ever happening again.

Joe had made the comment to his father as he lay bleeding on the floor that his efforts to tell the truth had only ended up in him being hurt again. Hoss couldn’t put a finger on exactly when his
younger brother had started to show his independence after the trial.

It certainly had been many weeks, months even. Each day was like a milestone, like being marked off by the Cartwright family as an achievement. Only problem was, Joe didn’t see it as any such thing.

During that time, Little Joe had admitted more than once in secrecy to his larger middle brother that he felt like a burden to them all, instead of the hero that they all claimed him to be after having the courage to speak out in the courtroom, and convict the man who had hurt him.

Now, somehow, Hoss knew that the family would have to make the same promise to Joe all over again. Swearing to stop Butch Thomas from hurting him, but even now that part of the oath had been broken before it was made. Thomas had hurt him physically again already and forcibly had him thrown in the small, damp jail cell beside them.

All three Cartwrights in the larger cell looked into the adjacent cell as Joe made a small amount of noise, signalling he was somewhere between being unconscious and awake. They waited for another sound, and were rewarded with their patience when the young man turned his head and
moaned at the pain that resulted.

The sound was muffled by the wad of cloth secured in Joe’s mouth, but it could still be heard.

“Joe, can you hear me?” Ben called out in the dark, barely able to make out the shadowy figure of his son in the dim light. “Son?”

There was a pregnant pause for a few moments, and Ben thought he could make out the whispered word, “Pa?”

But perhaps that was more wishful thinking on his part. He ached to be able to help Joe or at least touch him and release him from his bonds.

The muffled cry was too soft for any of Thomas’s men to have heard, but it was enough to give Joe’s family a brief sense of elation. Ben saw his son turn his head slightly, just as Hoss had.

“I am here, son,” Ben said, reaching through the bars again, but to his dismay, Joe’s head slumped towards the floor again, another groan of pain and he his brief hold on consciousness dissolved.

“Give him a little more time, Pa?” Adam said quietly, placing a reassuring hand on his father’s shoulder, knowing that his father was trying to hold onto any shred that was offered.

Normally it was the other way around, with Ben giving them the words of encouragement that was needed in adverse times. Adam knew that his father cared deeply for him and Hoss, but when it came to their younger brother Joe. It was of his youthful exuberance and vitality that often caused them all to worry more.

“It looks as though he took a fairly hard whack to the head,” Adam commented, only able to see the blood marring the side of Joe’s handsome face from where he was.

“How could we have been so blind, Adam?” Ben asked quietly. “We didn’t see the danger until it was too late.”

“There was no way we could have foreseen this, Pa. Or done much to prevent it,” Adam replied.
“That telegram Roy received seemed genuine enough at the time.”

“Yeah, Pa, just like the one Thomas read out before from you to Little Joe,” Hoss commented.
“Being from you, Joe would have believed it and not thought twice about coming out here after us.”

“How much more does Thomas know about Joe?” Ben asked out loud. “He lured us here at the bait, knowing that your brother would come looking for us.”

“The man is manipulative and calculating. Remember before when he stuffed Joe in that closet the night we were out?” Ben pointed out. “Waiting until he knew that Joe was defenceless and away from his family for the most part, and plagued not only on what he had done at the shack to him. But used Joe’s own fear against him.”

“You know how scared your brother was of the dark back then. It was certainly no secret to us ever since Marie died. He hated being in dark places,” Ben continued.

Ben fell back into silence again, offering no further conversation with his two older sons, but there were still a plethora of thoughts running through his mind from back then.

Thomas was an educated man, this much had been obvious from an early point. The man had taunted them that night with a note pinned to Joe as he lay bound and gagged on the floor.
No, not them…… tormented him. Somehow Butch knew that it would affect Ben just as much as his son.

And he was right as Ben remembered every letter of that note;

“Could you hear him screaming Ben? He was calling out for him and you weren’t there!”

Just as they had done back three years ago, the words not only seemed to echo in his mind tenfold, but they shouted at him and reminded him of how he had failed his son.

He had left the boy virtually alone and the unthinkable had happened. Thomas had broken into their house, locked Hop Sing up so that he couldn't help and then proceeded to torture and assault the boy. The burden of guilt had almost too much to bear.

What scared Ben more than the past was what plans Butch Thomas had for his son now.

How could any of them protect him from the man when they were no more than prisoners themselves?

And the biggest problem that Ben had yet to face was how to tell Joe when he woke, who was being his imprisonment.

Maybe Joe already knew that Thomas had struck him back at the livery stable, none of them had been there to see Joe arrive in town.

But something about the way that Butch had ordered Joe bound and blindfolded, told Ben that Joe had yet to learn who his captor was.

Thomas wanted to see for himself the power and control that he believed and perceived himself to hold over Little Joe, physically, emotionally and mentally.

It would be another hour and a half, closer to dawn that Joe would show signs of regaining consciousness for a second time.

At first, there was a series of smothered moans from the pain in his head that was relentless. Joe didn’t open his eyes, but instead rolled onto his back, bending his legs at the knees and taking slow, deliberate breaths through his nose until he could fathom where he was.
Then all at once, the truth struck him full force as he tried to open his eyes and couldn’t. He could feel the restriction over his eyes from the blindfold.
The next hurdle that he had to cross was the dryness of his throat. He went to rub his tongue against his lips in an attempt to gain moisture, but tensed his muscles when he could touch the cloth and feel the knot at the nape of his neck. It was so tight that it dug into the soft corners of his mouth.
When he lifted his hands towards his head in an attempt to remove the piece of cloth, the pain from his bound wrists and ankles crept up him. A few moments ago at first there had been nothing more noticeable than dull aches.
But now as he forced himself to take stock of what hurt and what didn’t, he sensed the restrictiveness of the rope and the chafing that the rough fibres made on his skin.
Different emotions hit him all at once as the realization that he was tied up began to sink into his aching head. The first was anger and outrage. Who had done this to him and why?
Next was the need and will to survive, which fortunately was strong in him at the moment. It was this want that forced him to remain alert despite the pain and the insecurity of his surroundings.
Joe felt the fear in him start to rise as he realised that the reason he couldn’t see was due to a blindfold tied tightly.
He had been bound and gagged before in his young life, but at the moment, there was this odd niggling in the back of his mind that the way he found himself should feel familiar somehow.
Then, all at once without warning, the feeling of déja Vu was almost palpable, and he was forced to swallow the ball of fear that was caught in his throat.
‘No……. it couldn’t be happening again!’
Joe surmised that he must have been tied up for a number of hours and that this was the reason for the stinging sensation in his wrists and the numbness in his ankles due to the strong rope that kept him bound hand and foot.
He didn’t know where he was but he could detect a hard floor underneath him and the coldness of the floor had begun to seep into his bones, making them ache even more.
When he remembered back to that earlier time, he could recall that the floor in the small shack was dirt. The floor beneath him now was harder still, giving him a small shred of hope that he wasn’t back in the same place.
He could scarcely think straight from the headache and the thought that he was once again trapped in a torture dream from three years ago. He swore viciously at himself for even coming up with such a notion, but the similarities were all too awful.
At one point he thought he could hear someone calling his name, helping to rise above his fear that he was caught back in the line shack with Butch Thomas.
When he had awoken in the shack three years ago, he had been all alone. In every sense of the word. Yes, there had been pain back then too, but the worse fear of all was that his family were far away and he had little chance of them knowing where he was, or being able to find him and come to rescue him.
There had been no one’s voice back then except Butch Thomas.
The cruel man who had promised that he would become so much a part of his fear that Joe would have nightmares about when he closed his eyes to sleep at night.
And for a time, that had been true. For weeks, even before seeing the bullet from Thomas’s gun roll across his bedroom floor, Joe had reminded himself that the man was still free from the law and could come back at any time to finish the job.
Thomas had told Joe that he would see the man’s face when he was awake in the middle of the night and screaming for his family to help.
Thinking on it now, he could remember the jaggered scar running across the man’s face even though it had been three long years. He doubted he would ever forget.
Butch told Joe that he would become such a part of his fear that after a while he wouldn’t know the difference between what was real and what wasn’t any more.
Then Thomas had come back that night and tied him up again and put him in that coat closet. Even at the trial at the courthouse, in front of his family and friends, and the judge himself, Butch had been bold enough to snatch him away from the doorway and the safety of his family and threaten him yet again.

‘That happened three years ago. He can’t get to you now!’ Joe berated himself with.
If he wasn’t all alone, then he couldn’t possibly be back in the link shack and reliving the nightmare except in his mind.
Luck was a little on his side for the moment, and despite his awkward position on the floor, Joe was able maneuver his hands enough to reach his face to pull at the blindfold. He needed to be able to see first, before anything else.
Ben, Adam and Hoss were all shocked to see Joe go from being unconscious on the floor, and moving about a little, to all of sudden, trying to sit up in haste and reach for the blindfold.
With the blindfold now displaced enough for Joe to see inside the room, his elation at being able to see were quickly dashed by the dim and barely lit room that he found himself in.
The room was almost totally dark, just like it had been with his blindfold on. Joe’s attention was quickly diverted to the doorway by the sound of the door opening and a narrow beam of light coming from the lantern that Fulton had lit earlier.
“Joe,” Ben said as he watched his son. “Calm down son, everything will work out,” he added, but it felt like a bitter lie in his mouth. He didn’t believe the words himself.

Joe tugged on the gag around his mouth, though it took three attempts to stretch the fabric enough for it to get loose enough to push out with his tongue.

“Here, Joe,” Hoss said, offering the small amount of water left in the canteen from their cell.

Joe reached out with his bound hands and gratefully accepted the tepid liquid. It was hot, but it was wet and helped allow enough moisture into his mouth to speak.

“Pa, what is going on?” Joe asked plainly, giving the canteen back through the bars, and wincing out loud at the pain that stabbed through his skull.

“We are in some sort of jail cell,” Joe pointed out, getting a good look at his surroundings for the first time. A small part of him gave thanks that it looked nothing like a line shack.

“Reach your hands here Joe and I will get those ropes off,” Hoss suggested.

Because his ankles were also lashed together, standing wasn’t possible at the moment. Shuffling himself along the floor allowed him to get closer to the adjoining cell.

Joe put his wrists up against the cell bars, but it soon became apparent that the cords were
too tight for any attempt from his larger brother.

“Thanks anyway, Hoss.”

“How come none of you are tied up like this? Did I do something wrong to get locked up in here on my own like this?” Joe asked. “I don’t even know how I got in here.”

Joe’s thoughts were along the line that he must have given too much cheek to the jailer, and had to be subdued more than his father and brothers. That may account for him being kept separate and being hogged tied like he had been.

“Must have been too ornery for the sheriff, hey Hoss,” Joe said, adding a short laugh, but it sounded too much like a stale joke all too quickly as he looked back at the concerned faces of his family.

Ben was looking at Adam for a way to gently break the news that they all wanted to keep from
Joe, but in hindsight, erred on the side of caution and started slowly with similar questions of his own.

“What is the last thing you remember, Joe?” Ben queried.

“Well I have got me one hell of a headache at the moment, Pa. But let’s see. Roy Coffee came out to the house late yesterday afternoon,” he began to explain.

“Hop Sing was already mad at me for being late for supper,” he said, giving a small smile, knowing his family would understand the little Cantonese man’s antics.

“I bet he was happy with you,” Adam commented, trying to keep the conversation flowing. He knew all too well that there was bad news for Joe just around the corner, and gave thanks for every second that they could delay telling his younger brother.

Joe continued to tug at the ropes around his wrists as he spoke, “He was actually, and even reheated my dinner for me,” he said with a smirk towards Hoss, knowing that no one else in the family would have been afforded such a privilege.

Hoss grinned back, reminding himself to rib his brother about it when they ever got back home to the Ponderosa. If they ever got back he silently thought.

“Anyway, I left early this morning. I was so tired when I rode into town, I didn’t notice anybody in the streets outside or anything. The whole place seemed very quiet.”

“From the telegram I got from you, Pa, I was expecting to ride into a whole mess of trouble.”

Ben didn’t reply but thought how apt his son’s perception had been, ‘riding into a whole mess of trouble alright, Joe’

“When I got to the livery stable, I saw Buck tethered outside, which I thought was odd for you, Pa,” Joe continued. “You keep reminding me to look after my horse.”

“Yes son, that was very careless of me,” Ben said too quietly, knowing that it hadn’t been him at all that left his horse outside the stable. Just like him and his two eldest boys, the animal had been the bait to lure Joe into the trap set by Butch Thomas. Like the fake telegram.

“After that, I don’t remember anything,” Joe admitted, rubbing at his aching forehead as best he could. He winced out loud as the fibres from the rope came into contact with the darkening bruise that was blossoming down the side of his face.

“So how much more do you all know?” Joe asked as he pulled at the chafing ropes.

Ben opened his mouth, trying to think of the right words to say, but before he could utter anything, the distinct sounds of footsteps could be heard approaching the jail house.

The three eldest Cartwright’s immediately assumed that it was Butch Thomas coming back to see if Joe was awake, but they were surprised when it was a different face altogether.

It soon became apparent though that Joe recognized the man straight away.

“YOU!” Joe shouted in outrage. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, holding onto the bars and trying to pull himself upright.

“Well, looks like the young Cartwright pup has grown some teeth,” the Stranger said as he neared the cells. “Too hot-headed, and too foolish to know it.”

“I should have known you would have something to do with this,” Joe accused, not taking lightly to the label of being a fool. He had foiled their plans that day and prevented something much worse from happening.

“How do you know this man, Joe?” Ben asked, looking at Adam and Hoss to see if they had seen him before. Both of them shook their heads in a negative response.

Ben knew that Joe had the wrong answer about who was behind their imprisonment, but listened to his son as he spoke.

“This is the man I chased away from the Ponderosa before you left, Pa,” Joe said, his anger beginning to bubble to the surface.

“The man you thought was organising to rustle some cattle?” Ben asked, remembering the conversation. A lot of things had happened since that day, and he had scarcely given the matter another thought after Joe mentioned it at the dinner table.

“The same one, Pa,” Joe confirmed.

“You don’t even know what we were planning,” Hughes taunted. “Trying to act like you were in charge and could do something about us. Those other two cowhands were just as stupid as you. I should have tested you out a little more that day.”

“What’s stopping you now,” Joe dared him. He hadn’t been intimidated by the man last time, and wasn’t about to be now. “Open up the cell and let’s finish this.”

Adam could see that his younger brother’s temper was beginning to emerge, probably fuelled in part by his headache and their imprisonment.

“Joe, you ain’t exactly in any position right now to take this here fellow on,” Hoss pointed out,
voicing the concern they all shared.

“Don’t fight him in here, Joe,” Ben pleaded with his son, trying to think of a way to stop things before they turned nasty. His son was provoking the man into action.

“I don’t need any of you to fight my battles for me, Pa,” Joe said plainly, keeping his eyes fixed on his opponent as he spoke.

“You stay right where you are, Cartwright,” Hughes warned, brandishing a gun, and pointing it first at Joe and then towards the three other men in the next cell. “Anybody moves too quick and I will put an ounce of lead in them.”

Hughes found the bucket that Fulton had used the night before to douse Joe, and now filled it about half way again. With the pistol clearly in view, he placed the bucket at his feet briefly
and opened the door to Joe’s cell with his free hand, locking it again once he was inside.

The man walked a few more steps into the room, and set the bucket down on the floor, “Don’t get any funny ideas,” he started to say, but before he could finish the sentence, Joe made his move.

Despite his hands and ankles being tied, Joe tried to use his bound legs to knock the man off balance and get him down on the floor with him. If he could get the man down on the ground with him, he stood a much better chance of the fight being even.

Ben and the others were unable to reach Joe or the man who had entered his cell and stood before him with a loaded pistol. They were forced to watch with bated breath as to who would get the upper hand. The odds were stacked against Joe when the fight wasn’t even fair to begin with.

Hughes was almost too slow to step back when saw Joe kick his legs out. The man was caught off guard briefly, and had to use his arms to brace himself to avoid slamming into the brick wall of the cell.

In direct response, Hughes delivered a painful kick of his own to Joe as he still lay on the floor.
Joe grunted as the boot caught the fleshier part of his calf muscle, but refused to give the man the satisfaction of crying out loud in pain. It hurt like the devil though.

Ben was about to say something to Wilson when his youngest son provoked the man a little more.

“Your such a big man, standing over and kicking me when I am down here and tied up,” Joe accused as he tried to ignore the pain in his leg.

Hughes didn’t immediately offer any more conversation, but instead tried to scare Joe and his
family some more by bending down and reaching his hand down inside his boot and drawing out a short-bladed serrated knife.

“No, don’t!” Ben pleaded, thinking that Hughes was going to stab and injure his son before he had any chance of defending himself.

Joe wouldn’t allow his uneasiness of the knife to show on his face, but he did watch the blade as it glimmered in the pale light of the early morning. He swallowed a little, wondering what Hughes next move would be.

To his astonishment and the relief of his family, just as Joe was getting ready to close his eyes and feel the hot slashing of his skin, Hughes did something entirely different.

He watched both his intended victim and the three men in the next cell at the motions.

Hughes brought the knife over towards Joe, but instead of lifting it up to cut into his body, he began sawing at the ropes that bound the younger man’s ankles. With a few short, firm slices, the fibres were severed and Joe’s feet were free of their bonds.

Not wasting any time to allow the man to get the better of him, Joe quickly scrambled to his feet. His legs were stiff from being tied up, and the kick that Hughes had delivered a few
minutes earlier caused him to grimace in pain as his legs accepted his full weight.

He tried to take a step forwards, but only managed a small limp, grabbing out at the bars to help himself stay upright. When he put his hands on the bars, he felt those of his father’s encircle his own for the first time.

Ben was fully prepared to give whatever support his son needed, even if it was restricted to the other side of these bars.

“Are you alright son?” Ben asked, knowing that it was a poor excuse for a question, but he could see the unsteadiness in Joe’s posture.

“It hurts some, Pa” Joe said softly so that Hughes wasn’t able to overhear. It was a toss up which hurt more at the moment, his leg or his head.

Standing up had allowed the blood to rush from his head and fall to his feet, leaving feeling a little dizzy and disorientated. He reached up with his hands to the side of his face and rubbed at the side of his face with his bandaged hand.

Until seeing it just now, Ben hadn’t thought too much about his son’s injured left hand. They had been too worried about him being brought in unconscious and the fate that awaited them all from Butch Thomas.

Looking at it now, the bandage could use changing. It was no longer white. The fabric was dusty and frayed along the edges from the ride from the Ponderosa. It was stained now with
a mixture of dried and fresh blood from the gash on his head.

“Get away from each other there,” Hughes growled, pulling Joe roughly away from his father’s gentle hands.

Adam and Hoss could do little more than keep there hands in their pockets at the intense injustice they felt for themselves and their father, but mostly for Joe. He was the one who was hurting in the most danger.

The man knew that it was Thomas’s intention to keep them separated as much as possible. The jail cells being side by side to each other really didn’t do that enough.

“You want water or not, Cartwright? I won’t make the offer again,” Hughes snarled making his point with the knife, thrusting it menacingly and pushing Joe further away from his family towards the half-filled bucket.

Joe decided that it was best to get what little bit of water was offered now because he couldn’t be sure if it would be available later. To him or his family in the next cell.

Cautiously, still keeping his eyes trained on Hughes as much as possible, Joe cupped his uninjured hand and submersed it in the tepid liquid in the bucket. He brought the small amount of water in the palm of his hand to his lips and savoured the dampness on his dry lips.

He did this a second and third time, but the fourth time, whilst his actions were hidden by the rim of the bucket, he clenched his hand into a fist, and without warning, then flung the bucket
and its remaining contents at Hughes.

Hughes was taken off guard for a few seconds, forced to use the hand holding the gun to strike out and avoid it hitting him in the face. The gun fell to the floor with a metallic clatter.

In direct retaliation, Hughes hit out viciously at Joe, punching him as the younger man fought to keep his balance. His shoulder struck the brick wall painfully, but he wasn’t quite willing to
give in yet, and prepared to deliver another blow of his own.

“I should have put a bullet in you that day, Cartwright,” Hughes spat back, regaining possession of his weapon, and aiming at Joe.

“That will be enough,” came a voice from the doorway of the jailhouse.

Hughes was reluctant to step back at first, but smirked when he saw the realisation on the face of Joe Cartwright of who had just spoken. He exited the jail cell, locking it behind him.

“You are very lucky that I don’t put a bullet in you,” Thomas warned ominously to Hughes.
“Nothing happens to Joe Cartwright unless I say so.”

“Stick around, I will need you in a minute,” he instructed.

Hughes was less than happy with the situation, and hated that Thomas had chastised him in front of the other men, but knew that the man was capable of and erred on the side of caution for the time being.

He had heard the comment made by Thomas to Hughes, and suspected that the man expected him to be his personal play toy once more.

When he had been first taken by Thomas, the motive was supposed to be a lumber contract
that his father and Adam had put a bid in on. And Thomas had been hired by Williams as the muscle to make sure that Ben Cartwright withdrew from the contract.

But once Joe had arrived at the line shack, it was made perfectly clear to him that Thomas wanted to make the torment a personal thing. Butch had told him in not so many words that he wanted for Joe to remember who he was for a very long time, and he had in fact delivered on those words.

To Joe Cartwright, all other sounds in the room ceased as watched Butch Thomas walk into the room. He had recognized the voice instantly, and he couldn’t hide his shock or surprise at the man’s presence.

As the initial astonishment wore off, Joe’s expressive face turned to a stony mask, devoid of any emotion. The young man told himself that he couldn’t let this man get to him again as he had done three years earlier.

He couldn’t let this man bully and hurt him like he had done at the line shack. And he could
withdraw away from his family like he had done back at the Ponderosa when Butch had broken into his room on two occasions.

There were no words spoken and the silence was almost deafening except for the sound of Thomas’s heavy boots on the floor of the jail house.

Butch watched Joe intently, not shifting his piercing gaze as he made his way over towards the cell and now stood in front of it. He noted how the boy’s shocked exterior turn into the calm one that he saw before him now.

There was a difference about the young man this time, and Thomas couldn’t be sure that it was all due to the fact that he was older.

Ben Cartwright watched his son’s face intently as well, waiting for a sign as to how his son was feeling and thinking. His son must be terrified he told himself, but looking at Joe’s face, that wasn’t what he saw.

Adam, like his father had seen Joe’s surprised look as Thomas appeared in the doorway, but both he and Hoss could see Joe fighting hard to keep his emotions in check and any other feelings to himself.

“Joseph Cartwright,” Thomas declared, standing with his hands on his hips and a cigar clenched in his teeth, looking his victim up and down.

“Butch Thomas,” Joe responded with feigned disinterest.

“I have waited three long years to catch up with you,” he said, almost expecting the boy to take a step backwards and let his fear show.

To his amazement and that of his family, Joe didn’t take a step backwards or shy away from the tormenter, but instead took a purposeful step forward, facing the man on equal terms.

“Well then, let’s get this over with,” Joe challenged, using the anger that he had felt towards Hughes to fuel his thoughts and words.

Butch Thomas swiped the smirk of his face, admiring the boy’s brave front, but beginning to grow angry at the casualness of their encounter. He had wanted the boy to cower before him like he had done back at the line shack that first day of his captivity, or on the road where he had first been taken.

But looking at Joe’s expression now, he wasn’t going to get what he wanted straight away.

“Looks like you found yourself a little more back bone, Joseph” Thomas said with conviction in his voice. “I hope you will demonstrate for me, just how much more assertive you have become since our last meeting.”

“You can’t make me do anything this time around, Thomas,” Joe said, his voice low and calm.
His whole manner towards Butch was one of contempt as he stared back with defiance.

The boy’s manner was almost dismissive and angered Thomas further, the man deliberately walking closer to the cell bars.

“I promised you last time that I would knock that wild spirit out of you, Cartwright,” Thomas snarled.

“You didn’t succeed though did you!” Joe pointed out, watching with a small smile as the man’s face became redder still.

“I am not sixteen anymore, Thomas. You don’t have any hold over me this time.”

“Drag him out of there,” Thomas ordered gruffly to Hughes, who was only happy to oblige.

“You stay where you are, Ben Cartwright. If you or your boys try and help him in any way, your son Joseph will suffer the consequences. Mark my words.”

Ben could see that Joe’s brave performance had riled Thomas and the man was in no mood to
be charitable. Adam and Hoss didn’t want any further harm to befall their younger brother, and feared what might happen to Joe now as he was forcibly removed from the cell.

With his hands still tied in front of him, and Hughes pistol trained on him, Joe tried briefly to get the upper hand as he was grabbed roughly and forced to walk from the cell towards the jailhouse door.

The two bounty hunters appeared at to Thomas with their rifles, about to remove Ben, Hoss and Adam from their cell.

“I wouldn’t want you to miss anything, Ben Cartwright,” Thomas sneered as they were forced to walk the same path as his son.

When they got to the outside of the jailhouse, the three older Cartwrights were ordered to stand alongside the front of the building, the rifles made sure that they compiled without causing any trouble.

Unfortunately for Joe, once he exited the jailhouse, he had a much rougher trip to the street outside. The sun was shining brightly and the light made Joe squint for a few minutes as he tried to get his bearings.

Joe was standing on the raised decking outside the jailhouse. The two bounty hunters took up their respective positions on the right hand steps, keeping their weapons pointed at his family.
For now they were at least alive, and hadn’t been harmed, so that was something to be grateful for.

On the left hand steps leading up to the building from the general store, stood another two men, both with pistols in their hands. There was another small crowd of men standing on the street in front of the jailhouse. Joe didn’t recognize any of these men.

Apart from Hughes and Thomas, there was nobody that he could put a name to, and there must have been about ten men present apart from his own family.

Hughes used his pistol to make Joe walk towards the front of the decking, and without warning, gave Joe a mighty shove, sending him sprawling awkwardly to the dirt street.
Joe landed painfully on his right shoulder, and groaned.

Butch Thomas and several of the men laughed heartily at Joe’s discomfort and ungainly position on the street. The young man’s face and clothes were smothered in dust as he tried to sit up.

“Joseph!” Ben cried out as he saw his son pushed. It wasn’t high up, but with his hands still tied in front of him, his son had no way of bracing himself against the hard surface beneath him.

As Ben took a footstep forward to check if Joe was alright, one of the bounty hunters waved him back with his rifle, threatening to shoot him if he tried anything foolish, like trying to reach his son.

“I guess by now you are wondering what you have been brought here for, Joseph,” Thomas spoke.

Joe scowled as much as he could from his where he was laying, but refrained from saying anything. Hughes used the steps and walked towards him, still holding the pistol towards him
in a threatening manner.

“What sort of sick game have you thought up, Thomas?” Ben demanded to know. It was his turn to speak out about the harsh treatment that his son was being forced to endure.

“A game?” Thomas said in mock surprise. “Well Mr Cartwright, you might just be right about that.”

“Let me introduce you all to some associates,” Thomas began.

One of the men in the small group introduced himself.

“Name is Johnny Pardon, but they call me “Ace” because I am the best damn card dealer that ever was.” Joe noted that the man wore a pair of fancy black boots and a black trim hat.

A couple of the other men had snickered openly at the man’s bold statement of being the
best card dealer, just as they had done earlier when the man introduced himself to Butch Thomas.

Secondly, a large black man spoke up next. “Walt Hays, from Louisiana in the south. I was working on a plantation until a few months ago when I killed one of the men that stood behind us with a whip.”

The next person to introduce himself to the Cartwrights was a man dressed in an army uniform and sash spoke, “Captain Samuel H.C. Wetherspoon.” But he still gave no indication from where he was from or any other information about himself or his past.

An man of Indian descent now spoke, “People call me Eagle Claw” he said, not offering any further information either.

Joe saw a dark express pass over the face of the man dressed in uniform and could see that there was some hidden animosity under the surface. The look of loathing and contempt of those of Indian decent was clearly evident to Hoss, Adam and Ben as well.

A much smaller man now stepped forward to introduce himself, wearing a large sombrero
hat and clothing native to his people. “My name is Jose Martinez from Mexicana” he
said in a heavily accented voice. “I am here to fight for money.”

Butch Thomas smiled again at the Mexican’s honesty. At least he knew where they stood. Some
of them were here to prove a point or themselves, others, like Jose, were only motivated
by greed and the promise of a fortune at the end of it all.

“You see, Ben Cartwright, I merely had to offer the right incentive to these men here, and they gladly volunteered for this little game as you call it,” Thomas said.

“Those two men standing on the left hand steps are Dusty Slade and Peter Williams. Both were inmates with me at Yuma State Prison. They both have killed in the past and will do so again, given that they are now wanted fugitives from the law.”

The two bounty hunters covering you Cartwrights are Frank Fulton and Henry Parker. As you can see gentlemen, they are experienced with their weapons of choice.”

‘We don’t do nothing unless its together. We rely on each other and only each other. That way we live longer and don’t have to trust anyone but ourselves,” Frank Fulton spoke for both of them.

“And I believe that you have already been acquainted with Mr Hughes standing beside you there,” Butch said, gesturing to Wilson, still holding the pistol pointed at Joe.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Joe voiced, giving Hughes a disgusted look.

“I look forward to us meeting again too, Cartwright,” Hughes responded, cocking the hammer of his pistol for emphasis. It took a stern look from Thomas to make the man stop from going further with his threat.

“The game is simple. A round of gunfights until the last man is standing,” Thomas explained, seeing the worried expressions on Ben Cartwright’s face as he spelled out his son’s impending fate.

“You fight, you win, you survive. Can’t be much simpler than that.”

“And what if I don’t want to take part in your little gunfight or your little game?” Joe asked, keeping his anger in check as best he could.

“Well then Joseph, I guess seeing as you are scheduled to face Dusty Slade, then he will shoot you and your carcass will be left in the street for the buzzards to pick at,” Thomas said, not sugar coating any of the details of his plan.

“And if I win?” Joe enquired, wanting to know the other side of the coin.

“Being a little optimistic, but I guess it can’t hurt to tell you,” Butch chuckled.

“If by some chance you happen to best Mr Slade here, then you survive until round 2 and your next opponent. That person is yet to be determined by the other rounds between the men that you see gathered here today.”

Adam was sure that any sort of gunfight organized by Butch Thomas had to be rigged against his brother’s favour of winning. If Joe didn’t fight then he would be killed. If he did participate and overcome his opponent, then the best he could look forward to would be another opponent willing to kill him. Not very good odds either way.

Ben kept his attention focused on Joe and Butch Thomas. Hoss and Adam tried sizing up the two bounty hunters, seeing if there was a chance of getting free. But both of them still held their rifles, ready to shoot on Thomas’s word or if they saw the Cartwright’s move.

They had heard Thomas’s threats directed at Joe if they tried to escape or help him, and didn’t want to put his safety at risk any more than it already was.

Ben was trying to gauge his son’s reaction to the game that Butch had devised. Up until now,
Joe’s method of dealing with any fear of the man was to direct it back at him in anger and accusation. He couldn’t blame his son for feeling this way, but did worry about what Thomas’s reaction would be. Until now, he had not lifted a finger to Joe, standing back and allowing his hired guns to carry out his dirty work.

The other gunfights will take place between the following:

“Peter Williams will face Frank Fulton.”

“Mr Hughes you will be face Johnny Pardon.”

Pardon gave Hughes a sneer after hearing who his first opponent would be. Pardon believed in his own abilities enough to believe for certain that the Cartwright kid wouldn’t have to worry about the man carrying out his threat.

“My condolences for your family, Mr Hughes,” Pardon offered, taking off his hat, and bowing slightly, gesturing as if the conclusion had already been decided before they faced each other in the street.

“Don’t be so sure, Mr Card man,” Hughes shot back, kicking out at Joe once more as he grinned at Pardon’s statement. His aim was accurate enough for Joe to roll over a little and gasp at the pain that engulfed his already injured leg.

Hoss was forced to remain still as he saw the man kick his brother for the second time today while he was laying on the ground. They wanted to be able to help Joe, and keep him away from Thomas.

“Henry Parker your first opponent will be Jose Martinez.”

“Captain Wetherspoon, you will face Eagle Claw.”

“Damn waste of ammunition if you ask me,” Wetherspoon said sarcastically. “But then again,
the only good Indian is a dead one.”

There was no doubt on anybody’s mind that Butch Thomas had gone out of his way to set up this rivalry. Wetherspoon responded to the news by taking a step forward and deliberately spitting on the ground in front of the Indian.

Eagle Claw remained standing in the same place, not giving into the taunts of the white man. He had heard many of them before. They only way to show this man how little his words meant was to defeat him in front of all of these men tomorrow.

There was no doubting the Indian was a large man, and Butch Thomas along with several of the other men had their doubts about Wetherspoon coming out of the competition alive, despite his bold words. Looking at Eagle Claw now, the man eyes were dark, almost brooding, waiting for the right opportunity.

“That leaves only two other opponents for the last fight tomorrow. Myself and Mr Hays,” Butch finished. He had as much like of black people as Wetherspoon had of Indians, but he didn’t voice that opinion out loud. There would be enough time tomorrow to show he meant business.

Butch Thomas of course, wanted the final gunfight to be between himself and Joe Cartwright, but that meeting was yet to be decided by the outcome of the other gunfights.

Joe looked at Butch Thomas and could almost read his thoughts about him wanting to face him in a gunfight. He didn’t figure out why Butch just didn’t set it up between the two of them in the first place.

But knowing Butch like he did, the man would want to drag out Joe’s torment as much as possible and having other opponents allowed him to do this.

The other thought that crossed Ben’s mind was that if Joe was killed, then Butch would be able to claim self defence with any lawman and get away with murdering Joe scot-free.

At the moment, there was very little Ben and his two eldest boys could do, but watch in anguish as Joe as slowly being pushed to the limit.

Butch was setting up the game so that he would be the winner, no matter what happened.

With the sun now climbing higher in the sky, Joe rubbed at the gash on his head, the pain beginning to become more noticeable with the heat of the day.

He now wished he had drunk a little more of the water from the bucket before tossing it Hughes back in the jail cell.

Butch Thomas now spoke again, “Get him back inside,” he instructed Hughes.

“On your feet, Cartwright!” the man hissed, his pistol still in plain sight.

Joe complied, knowing that with a gun pointed and him and rifles at his father and brothers, there was very little he could do at the moment other than do what he was told.

Once back in the jailhouse, perhaps being out of the direct sunlight would help him come up with a plan of escape for them all when his head wasn’t pounding so badly.

Joe got up, a little awkwardly due to not being able to use his hands to help himself. He choked back the gasp of pain as his full weight was again placed on his legs. No sooner
had he stood up erect, when he suffered another rough shove to his shoulder from Hughes,
sending him sprawling back to the dirt street.

Thomas watched on, not chastising Hughes as he had done earlier in the jailhouse. He wanted to see how Joe would handle himself now that he was claiming to be older.

A few of the men standing about laughed out loud at Joe’s mishap, none as loud as Hughes though. The man was too busy chuckling at the young man’s misfortune to see Joe Cartwright struggle to his feet again, this time however, he had a grim look on his face.

Ben could see his son’s temper reach boiling point. The boy was hurt and had been humiliated in front of these men and wasn’t about to take anymore abuse.

Hughes turned back towards Joe, just in time to be on the receiving end of a two handed punch. His hands might have been tied together, and his head was throbbing, but he wasn’t completely helpless nor about to let this man bully him more in the middle of this street.

Hughes was startled by the blow and surprised by its ferocity, and used the edge of his shirt sleeve to wipe the blood away from his split lip.

He still held the gun in his hand, but with the blow, its aim had been altered. Wilson was about to turn the gun angrily on Cartwright when Thomas stopped what about happen.

“He got you fair and square, Hughes,” Thomas said, pointing his own gun at Hughes in case things got out of control. “Now take him back to the cell…...without troubling him further.”

“This isn’t over yet Cartwright……….,” Hughes warned, gripping his hand around the butt of his
gun tighter.

For a moment he had held the upper hand, but he didn’t like it when it was thrown back in his face, not even by Butch Thomas. One way or another he and Joe Cartwright would finish their little fight without any interference and then they could see who truly was the better gunfighter.

Ben knew that Butch hadn’t saved Joe’s life out of any compassion that Thomas felt for his son, but he had to be grateful for the small amount of mercy offered as Joe was marched back to the jailhouse.

As he walked through the doorway, Joe turned his head back, wanting to see what was happening to his father and brothers. To his relief they were being forced back into the jailhouse behind him, the bounty hunters on either side of the three of them.

Joe was made to enter the smaller cell once more, but before the door was locked behind him,
Hughes made a point of clubbing him between the shoulder blades with the butt of his pistol.
Joe gave a grunt as he was driven to his knees from the glancing blow.

He quickly got to his feet, ready to whirl on his attacker, but stopped short when the door swung between them. Hughes was giving a small grin of satisfaction that he felt.

“Get out of here,” Thomas ordered both Hughes and the two bounty hunters, once both cell doors were locked. Any conversation that was to pass now would be between him and the Cartwrights only.

Once again Butch focused most of his attention on Joe, standing before his smaller cell, but able to plainly see the other three Cartwrights. Thomas looked back at the young man with a slightly different opinion from the one he had held before heading into the street. And a very different one to how he had perceived Joe Cartwright three years ago.

Joe wasn’t about to back down to Thomas’s menacing gaze or let the man’s power overtake him this time around.

Taking a more determined stance, and moving up close behind the bars, Joe with his hands still tied in front of him, daring Thomas, his green eyes smouldering into grey.

“I am not afraid of you anymore.”

Thomas laughed out loud at the statement, trying to unnerve his young prisoner, but could see that part of what he said was true.

“Depends on what you call afraid,” Thomas threw back. “There are many different levels of fear, Joseph.”

“Is that what you were trying to do when I woke up here with the gag in my mouth and being tied up like this?” Joe asked. “Trying to make me go back down memory lane remember to back then?”

Thomas’s lack of response confirmed Joe’s statement for all involved.

“I have done a lot of growing up in three years, Thomas. And I am not about to let you hurt me or torment my family like you did back then. Gunfight or no gunfight.”

“Bold words, Joseph. But I don’t really believe you have changed that much at all, no matter how much you reckon you have grown in three years.”

“Three years can change somebody, I know, there hasn’t been a day in all that time, that I haven’t thought of your name. Wondered what you were up to. How I could get back at you and make you pay for breaking your promise about not revealing my name that day in the courthouse.”

“Six months ago, I promised myself that I wasn’t going to rot in that Yuma State Prison for the rest of my life on the account of Joe Cartwright.”

Joe wanted to say that Thomas’s imprisonment had been his own doing, but kept the scathing words on the tip of his tongue, unspoken for now.

“So I persuaded Williams and Slade to come with me. We organized to bribe one of the guards and snuck out to freedom. Both were handy with a gun. They made their way here, and have been waiting until I told them what was going to happen.”

“And what if they had of gotten killed by breaking out with you, or captured by the law before now?” Joe asked.

“They didn’t like the idea of dying in that prison anymore than I did.”

“And if they die here on the streets of this ghost town because of you?” Joe challenged.

“At least they will have made the choice to take part rather than sitting back at that prison waiting for someone else to tell them its time for them to die.”

“Somehow I don’t think they will see your point of view when they are looking back at the bore of a pistol tomorrow and the high probability of a bullet hole in their chest,” Joe shot back.

“After getting away from that prison, I started making my plans to get back at you somehow.
I knew it wouldn’t be easy at first, with this family of yours always trailing behind you. But in some ways as you can see, they were your downfall too.”

“Only because you feed them some crummy story about coming to this town in that telegram that the sheriff showed me.”

“I have been watching you for quite a while now boy,” Thomas informed Joe. “I have been your shadow for weeks, keeping an eye on you and what you have been doing.”

Joe swallowed a little nervously at this statement, knowing that he had felt like someone was behind him all the time, but never really able to confirm it or know who it was.

Even his family had made mention of it. Until now, none of them had guessed that Thomas would have been behind it once more.

“You were quite the little hot-head back at the Saloon back in Virginia City the other day where you faced up to Hughes at the bar,” Thomas taunted.

“You saw that?” Joe said, his voice barely above a whisper, knowing the encounter that Butch was recalling. It was the same day that he had learnt about the death of Tom Withers.

“I saw you ready to take him on, all over some damned cripple man that he was talking about,” Thomas replied, smirking at little as he saw the angered expression on Joe’s face at the description of Tom as a cripple again.

“You nor he are even half the man Tom was,” Joe snarled with a sudden burst of anger and grief for his friend. He refused to let his emotions get the better of him in front of Butch. That was what the man was counting on to happen.

Ben, Hoss and Adam were alarmed at Thomas’s admission that he had been stalking Joe for sometime. Some of the pieces of the puzzle from the last few weeks were beginning to make a bit more sense and fit together.

They all shuddered to think that Thomas could have made his move at any time. When Joe was on his own, and nobody would have known. Just like on the road that fateful day to school, those men had taken him when there was little chance of Joe defending himself or gaining help.

“You seem to have forgotten how to sense that I was about in a room, Joe. Just like that day back in your room with the bullet I left for you. I thought I taught you quake in your boots whenever I walked into a room.”

Joe’s facer flushed a little redder from the humiliation at Thomas’s words. He remembered all too well how scared he had been back at the courthouse that day when Butch had grabbed him outside and threatened him.

And the day that the bullet had rolled from behind his mother’s picture, and for the first time,
Joe really knowing that Butch was still around after being brought home by his family.

“You must have followed me when we went on the cattle drive a few days ago too,” Joe accused Butch.

“Very good,” Thomas applauded, taking the cigar butt from between his teeth as he held an amused look on his face. “You felt me watching you didn’t you.”

Joe didn’t answer, but knew that it was clearly written on his face. His turned briefly to his father and brothers, offering them a brief smile as they recalled how uneasy Joe had felt by the campfire that night.

Joe had pulled his gun, thinking that there was something watching them from a distance.
Stalking him. There had been the smaller incidents coming back from the drive when he had ridden his horse at neck-breaking speed, and how jumpy he had been around the house and barn once they had reached home.

Ben felt bad as he realised what Joe had sensed at the Campfire that night when he looked so scared. Joe had refused to open up and share his feelings, and his family had allowed the matter to drop without much more probing.

“I am not afraid of you anymore,” Joe said through the bars, trying to put some belief into the words. “I am not going to let you hurt my family because of me again.”

“Yes, your great family,” Thomas said, walking over to stand in front of the larger cell and take a closer look at the three eldest Cartwrights. None of them were about to let Butch threaten them or Joe if they could do anything about it.

“You would do anything for your family wouldn’t you, Joe?” Thomas asked plainly.

“Yes,” Joe answered truthfully to the question.

“I won’t let you hurt my son all over again, Thomas, mark my words,” Ben stated firmly through the bars, making sure that the man heard his promise.

“We aim to stop you anyway we can,” Adam added for himself and Hoss. The larger brother. remembering how he had punched Thomas in the courtroom that day after he had shot Little Joe in full view of everybody in the room.

“Just as I suspected, Cartwright. We will see if this family of yours can stand to see you go out into the street and gun down another man in cold blood. Or if they are indeed the crutch that I believe you rely on all too heavily.”

“You tell me that you are all grown up now boy, and ready to be a man. Well maybe you are just about to get your chance yet to show that to me beginning tomorrow.”

By now Butch was growing bored with the whole conversation, especially since he had not been able to invoke the same amount of fear into the boy as he had hoped. The boy was still afraid, no doubt about it, no matter how much he said he wasn’t.

But there was now an open defiance in both Joe’s actions and words and there was a wild streak in the boy that Thomas wanted to see if he could tame and break.

Thomas turned, ready to walk out of the jailhouse, leaving the Cartwrights to their own thoughts, and Joe to his fresh torment of what tomorrow would bring.

Before he closed the door, he made one more statement, knowing that Joe wasn’t telling the entire truth about not being afraid of him.

“I bet you never told them or showed your family the letter I wrote to you that day either, huh Joe?”

Thomas closed the door, already guessing at the answer.

For the next few minutes, there was nothing but silence between the two cells as Joe tried to digest everything that had happened in the last hour and what Thomas had talked about.

He could feel his family’s questioning eyes on him about Thomas’s last statement, as well as many of the other things that they had heard.

“Let me try and see if I can loosen the ropes again, Joe?” Ben said gently, seeing the pinched looked on his son’s tanned and dusty face. Some of it no doubt was from the pain that he was experiencing from the blow to his head, but some of it was also due to having to rehash old memories.

Joe looked up at his father and wanted so much to reach out to them, but he also realised that they were the pawns in this deadly game too. That Butch Thomas knew his closeness with his family would be his biggest weakness apart from his own doubts and fears.

He couldn’t live with himself if something was to happen to one of them because of his own selfish pity. He had to pull away from his family, not get closer. He couldn’t let them wrap him up in their protection like they had done before today, no matter how much he truly wanted to.

“I can’t, Pa,” Joe said, his voice catching in his throat. He forced himself to turn away from them and walk towards the adjacent corner of the room.

“You don’t have to do this all alone, Joe,” Adam said, trying to give his brother some reassurance that they would still help him, even if he didn’t want it.

Joe refused to answer, but in the back of his mind, doing this alone was exactly what he needed to do most. How or why Thomas had come back into his life didn’t really matter at this point in time. The only thing he had to focus on was surviving. Like he had done back at the line shack.

Survive against his opponent in the street tomorrow. Somehow get through this nightmare, one minute at a time.

“I will beat him for you just like before, little brother,” Hoss promised him.

“You can’t fight this one for me, Hoss, none of you can,” Joe said simply. “This time is has to be just me and him.”

Ben could see that they weren’t having much luck at convincing Joe that everything would work out. So he employed a different tactic to try and learn more about the pain that Joe had been suffering in silence over the past three years.

“When did you get this letter?” Ben asked in a quiet voice.

Joe rubbed his hands over his face, showing just how exhausted he felt at this point in time. He wanted nothing more than to lie down somewhere on a soft bed and forget all of this ever happened. But he knew that sleep would be a long time in coming.

“That first time you let me take the wagon into town after my leg was healed,” Joe began to explain. He saw no point in hiding it from his family. “I picked up the mail just like you said. Amongst the other envelopes there was a plain one waiting for me, with no postmark. No way of knowing who it came from.”

“But it wasn’t hard to tell from what it said who had sent it,” he added, wringing his hands together to hide his nervousness as he remembered what had been written on the page.

"SOMEDAY I WILL COME BACK. YOU AND I WILL MEET AGAIN - I PROMISE"

Joe repeated the words that were tattooed in his memory.

There wasn’t much Ben could say as he heard the fear begin to surface within Joe from that day.
After being shot, it had taken a lot longer for Joe to put on the face or normality once more and go about his daily routine.

At the time, his family understood his fears and anxiety, but thought that time would heal all wounds, even the mental and emotional ones. How wrong they had been, after hearing now how troubled Joe’s thoughts had remained.

Joe had done exceptionally well to hide his feelings from his family, and none of them had suspected anything out of the ordinary until today. But why had he felt so compelled to keep something like that from them.

Why had he felt that he had to deal with everything on his own? Did he think they wouldn’t understand?

Thomas had told them a short time ago that he had broken out of prison about six months ago, but the expression on Joe’s face told a different story. Somehow Ben surmised that Joe had thought of Butch Thomas again even before the accident at the saw mill with Tom Withers.

Somehow Joe’s subconscious had known that the man was around again, but perhaps refused or didn’t want to believe it to be true until Butch was standing in front of him today.

“How long ago did he come back, Joe?” Ben asked, truly wanting to know.

The question surprised Joe at first. He didn’t quite know how to answer it. There were sleepless nights for many months after he was shot. Where he had only been able to silence his terror and screams by the fabric of his pillow.

There were times when he wanted to talk to his father and brothers about how he was feeling, like why it had taken more than a year for him to stop looking over his shoulder on that road towards Virginia City whenever he rode alone.

At some point, and he couldn’t have put a time frame on exactly when Joe had forced himself to keep his thoughts, fears and memories from his father and brothers. Knowing that his family needed to get back to their lives and the Ponderosa needed to function normally again.

For a long time he convinced himself that he had buried the memories and pain deep enough so that he could forget.

“Ever since the line shack, he has always been inside my head. Maybe I have been lying to all of you as well as myself all this time.”

“On cold days my leg still aches, but you can’t see any but thin scars there now. Every now and then in the dead of night, I wake up feeling like I am standing on that chair again, with the noose slowly tightening around my neck. Squeezing just a little more.

“I guess for me, he never really went away, Pa?” Joe said softly, barely above a whisper.

Joe found his headache was increasing and the exhaustion that he was feeling from earlier was quickly gaining momentum.

He didn’t want to deal with much at the moment and he didn’t want to remember any of it.
He slumped against the far corner of the cell, and slow let his body slide down until he was sitting on the floor with his back leaning against the hard cement wall.

Joe drew his knees up slightly, grunting at the pain from his injured leg, wrapping his injured hands around his knees. His head was bent back awkwardly against the wall, with his eyes closed. He gave a tired sigh just wanting to escape his own thoughts for a while.

“Am I strong enough to face him again, Pa?” Joe quietly asked his father. He wasn’t expecting a response.

“I don’t know if I am ready to do this all over again.”

to be continued…………………………..

AUTHOR’S NOTES: There are a lot of explanations about how long it has taken to update for readers, but most of them you don’t need to hear. Apologises to all who were waiting so long.

The next update will not be this long. My next story to update for Bonanza will be “Riverboat Gambler” and I have a whole stack of new ideas to write when these two are finished.

Please let me know what you think – reviews keep me writing faster.

I hope you are enjoying the ride so far.

Jules

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