Guilty!
By: Rona Y.
“Well?” Joe Cartwright
looked up anxiously as his father came into the cell area of
“No,” Ben replied, hating
to crush his son’s hope. He crossed to stand right at the bars, wishing that he
could be in the cell with his son, wishing that it was he who was in Joe’s
place. “But they’ll come, son. You know they will.”
Rising, Joe began to pace
restlessly. “I know Adam and Hoss will try to get here on time, Pa,” he agreed
in a low voice. “But what if they don’t?” He swung round to face Ben again. “Pa
I’m afraid,” he confessed. “What if they don’t get here on time? I don’t want
to hang!”
************************
The knock on the door
surprised Ben Cartwright as he sat in front of the fire, sipping a
mid-afternoon cup of coffee. He put his cup on the coffee table and hurried
over to answer the door, looking blankly for a moment at the tall, thin man
standing on the door step. “Oh, Sheriff McGuire! Come in!” He stood back to let
the temporary sheriff of
“This is not a pleasure
jaunt, Mr Cartwright,” McGuire replied, coldly. “I’m here for your son,
Joseph.”
“Joe?” Ben frowned. “He’s
out on the range with my other two sons, but they should be back by dark. Why?
What’s wrong?”
“If you can tell me exactly
where they are, I’ll go and get Joseph myself,” McGuire evaded.
“I don’t know exactly where
they are,” Ben replied. “Sheriff, what’s this about? Why do you want Joe?” An
uneasy feeling was growing in Ben’s gut.
“All right, Mr Cartwright,
I’ll tell you,” McGuire agreed. “I’ve come to arrest Joseph for the rape and
murder of Suzanne Webster.” He looked at Ben’s face with grim satisfaction. “I
aim to see that he hangs.”
**************************
“Th-there must be some
mistake,” Ben stuttered. “Joe? You think Joe murdered Suzanne? But – but he
wouldn’t.”
“That’s for a court of law
to decide,” McGuire replied, sententiously. “I’m here to arrest him. Joseph was
the last person to see Suzanne Webster alive. He was seen leaving her house
shortly before she was found dead by her neighbour, Mrs Johnston.”
By now, Ben had got over
the shock and was rallying his resources. “When was this?” he asked.
“Suzanne was found dead
yesterday by Mrs Johnston. An eye witness says he saw Joe leaving Miss
Webster’s house at three the previous afternoon.”
A feeling of relief swept
over Ben. “Then it couldn’t have been Joe!” he declared. “Joe wasn’t even here
the day before yesterday!”
“If he wasn’t here, he
could easily have been in town raping and murdering Miss Webster,” the sheriff
replied, implacably.
“No, you don’t understand,”
Ben persisted. “Joe wasn’t on the ranch. He only got back yesterday. He was
away on business for me.”
“Was anyone else with him
on this ‘trip’?” McGuire asked.
“No,” Ben answered,
reluctantly. “He went alone.”
“Then it’s entirely
possible that he got back early. In any event, Mr Cartwright, I am here to
place your son under arrest and if you continue to hinder me, I’ll have to
place you under arrest too.”
Shocked rigid, for he
hadn’t for a moment thought he was impeding an investigation, Ben wasn’t sure
what to say. In the silence that fell, he could clearly hear the grandfather
clock ticking solemnly and the sound of his own heart beat. And then he
realised that he could hear hoofs, too, and knew that his sons were home.
McGuire realised, too, and hurried over to the door, drawing his gun as he did
so. Ben hurried after him, hoping to avert a disaster.
In the yard, Adam, Hoss and
Joe were just dismounting, none of them aware of their visitor. McGuire took
advantage of their distraction to cross to stand behind Joe, his gun in Joe’s
back. The youngest Cartwright froze. “Joseph Cartwright, I’m arresting you for
the rape and murder of Suzanne Webster,” McGuire rapped out. “Stay still and I
won’t be forced to shoot you.” He carefully took Joe’s gun from his holster and
tucked it into his pants. “Now put your hands behind your back and don’t try
anything!” he was warned.
Slowly, Joe did as he was
told, his puzzled gaze meeting those of his brothers’. He stiffened as he felt
the cold steel of handcuffs fastening around his wrists and he felt a large twinge
of anxiety. “What is this?” he asked, hoarsely, as the cuffs closed. “What do
you mean? Suzanne is dead?” Joe sounded stunned. He and Suzanne had been going
with each other for a couple of months.
“No need to put on an act
for me, Cartwright,” McGuire sneered. “I know you killed her.”
“I didn’t!” Joe cried,
turning to glare at his accuser. “I haven’t seen Suzanne for several days. I’ve
been away.”
Chuckling, McGuire pushed
Joe back towards his horse. “Glad to see you an’ your family have got your stories
straight, anyway,” he commented. “Get mounted, Cartwright.” He practically
pushed Joe into the saddle. “Save the fairy stories for the judge!”
“Wait!” Ben cried, running
forward. He couldn’t believe how fast things were spinning out of control. “I’ll
come into town and arrange bail.”
“There’s no point,” McGuire
told him, mounting his own horse and taking Cochise’s rein. “There won’t be any
bail. Not for a murder charge.”
“Pa,” Joe cried, looking
frantically at his father. “Pa, I didn’t do it, I swear!”
“I know you didn’t, son,”
Ben replied. He took a step closer, but froze as the sheriff’s gun came up.
“That’s close enough, Mr
Cartwright,” he warned. “Any closer and I’ll have to assume that you’re going
to try and help the prisoner break free. I’m not Roy Coffee, and I’m not
impressed with your money. Justice will be served here, make no mistake.” He
put his heel to his horse and they left the yard at a canter, Joe needing all
his not-inconsiderable riding skills to stay in the saddle.
Ben, Adam and Hoss were
left gazing after them, totally stunned.
******************************
The end of the ride
couldn’t come soon enough for Joe. He had found it horribly difficult to keep
his balance and he hadn’t been happy at the way the sheriff kept a fast pace
all the way to town and Cochise had already done a hard day’s work. The pinto
was lathered and panting, with his head down, when they came to a stop. Joe was
hauled roughly from his horse and pushed up the steps to the jail house, the
sheriff’s gun in his back the whole way. Joe didn’t know whether to be
flattered or annoyed that the man thought him such a threat.
It wasn’t the first time
Joe had been in jail, but each time he fervently hoped it would be the last.
And this time was different – it wasn’t Roy Coffee, a family friend, who was in
charge.
“Get in there,” McGuire
said, opening the door to a cell.
Obediently, Joe took a step
in and stopped. He was surprised when the door clanged shut behind him at once
and he whirled around. “What about these?” he demanded holding up his cuffed
hands as best he could.
“What about ‘em?” McGuire
replied, sneering. Joe was immediately on his guard.
“Aren’t you going to take
them off?” he asked, as meekly as he could.
“Hm, perhaps you do have a
point there,” McGuire mused. “I might need them again. But you are a murderer;
I have to be careful.”
“I’m not a murderer,” Joe
replied, evenly. He could feel his temper rising and vowed to keep it under
control.
“All right, I’ll take ‘em
off,” McGuire agreed, after a long moment. “I’ll be right back.” He gestured to
the bars. “You come and stand here with your back to the bars. If I think
you’re to be trusted, I’ll take them off.”
Suspicious, but having no
choice, Joe did as he was told and went to stand with his back to the bars. He
could feel colour rising in his face as he stood there. Calm down, he told himself. Pa
will get Hiram and everything will be sorted out by tomorrow. He drew in a
calming breath.
Behind him, he heard
McGuire coming in, and wondered what the funny clanking noises were. Next
moment, something clicked heavily around his wrist above the handcuff. “What…?”
he began and started to turn.
Reacting instantly, McGuire
pulled on the cuff chain and had Joe pinned helplessly against the bars. “I
though you’d try to resist me,” he hissed malevolently in Joe’s ear. I’m glad I
was ready.” Keeping Joe close to the bars, he passed something Joe could not
see through the bars and fastened it round Joe’s neck. He took off the
handcuffs and spun the startled young man around and fastened the other manacle
around Joe’s left wrist. Now, Joe’s wrists were shackled to the collar around
his neck, and he was unable to straighten his arms. And before he could recover
from that indignity, McGuire knelt, pulling Joe over and locked leg irons
around his ankles.
“Now let’s get one thing
straight,” McGuire said, as he released Joe and stood. “If you behave, I’ll put
on ordinary shackles on your wrists later. Make trouble, and you’ll be sorry.
Do I make myself clear? You’re a dangerous man, Cartwright. A rapist and a
murderer. I can’t afford to take chances with you. Your temper is well known
around town.”
“I didn’t hurt Suzanne,”
Joe repeated. His grief for the girl’s death had been shoved to one side while
he dealt with this situation. “I’m not a danger to you, regardless of what you
think. Do you really think I could get out of this cell?”
“No,” McGuire replied. “But
you might attack me.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “It’ll be supper in about
an hour,” he went on. “If you behave, I’ll think about changing your shackles
then.” He turned without a backward glance and went out, shutting and locking
the door between the cells and the office.
Distraught, Joe stared at
the closed door for several minutes before he shuffled over to the cot and sank
down. He was suddenly sure that he was in bigger trouble than he had ever been
in before.
*************************
“I’m sorry to bother you so
late in the day,” Ben apologised to Hiram Wood as he was admitted to his
lawyer’s home. “But it’s urgent.”
“Come on in, Ben,” Hiram replied.
“What’s wrong?”
Speaking quickly, Ben
outlined the story as far as he knew it. Hiram looked grave. “What do you
think?” he concluded.
“I think Joe’s in deep
trouble,” Hiram replied. “I know of McGuire. He’s got a reputation for being a
strong sheriff. That’s why he was hired.”
“What else?” he asked, as
Hiram hesitated.
“The circuit judge is due
here tomorrow, Ben. And he’s not the usual man, either. He’s ill. This judge,
Judge Whittaker, is known for a hanging judge. He has no patience for long,
drawn-out trials. He sets a time limit to hear all the evidence and won’t go a
minute over if he can avoid it.” Hiram scratched his head. “You say Joe can
prove he wasn’t with Suzanne when she was killed. Who is his witness?” When Ben
said the name, Hiram smiled. “Well, short of the Lord Jesus Christ himself
coming down from heaven to speak for Joe, we couldn’t have a better witness.
Can you wire him?”
“Perhaps it would be best
if Adam and Hoss went to get him,” Ben suggested. “I don’t know why, but I have
such a bad feeling about this, Hiram.”
“All right, I don’t see why
not,” Hiram agreed. “Now, let’s go down to the jail. You can see Joe briefly
and I’ll tell the sheriff that I want to confer with Joe tomorrow morning. But
I don’t see there being a real problem, Ben. Not with the witness you’ve got.”
Rising, Ben fingered his
hat nervously. “Except he’s not here yet,” Ben replied.
Ushering Ben out of the
door, Hiram was disquieted to find himself being infected with Ben’s
misgivings. This case was straight forward. The evidence was all
circumstantial, apart from the eye witness who said he had seen Joe. Hiram’s
first job was to discover who this witness was and question him.
******************************
“I’m not sure I can agree
to letting you see the prisoner, Mr Cartwright,” McGuire murmured.
“Why not?” Ben asked in
disbelief. “You’ve already got my gun. What do you think; that I’m going to
strangle him with my bare hands in the jail cell?”
“It’s possible,” McGuire
agreed. “I don’t know you, Mr Cartwright. I don’t know what your relationship
with your son is.”
Grimacing angrily, Hiram
decided it was time to step in before Ben found himself in the cell next to
Joe. “I’ll vouch for Mr Cartwright,” he offered smoothly. “In fact, we could go
in at the same time. Come, Sheriff, that’s not unreasonable.”
“All right,” McGuire
replied, grudgingly. He patted down both Ben and Hiram before allowing them
into the cells.
As the door opened, Joe looked
up and relief sped across his face. McGuire had – after supper – put on
ordinary wrist shackles and taken off the collar, but Joe was under no
illusions that the change was permanent. He guessed that if he looked the wrong
way at the sheriff, he would find himself back in the other irons. “Pa!” He
stood up, but his initial impulse to rush across the cell was checked by the
leg irons.
“Joe!” Ben replied and
relief and horror were mingled in his tones. “What is this?” he demanded of
McGuire. “Why is Joe in chains?”
“He’s a murder,” McGuire
replied, smoothly. “I’m on my own here, so I have to take reasonable
precautions.”
“I don’t think this is
necessary,” Hiram declared, disapproval heavy in his tones.
“But I do,” McGuire
answered. “And I’m the sheriff here.” He folded his arms and regarded the three
men levelly. “You’ve got two minutes,” he added.
“Are you all right, Joe?”
Ben asked, reaching through the bars to cup Joe’s cheek in his hand.
“I’m all right,” Joe
replied, leaning into that familiar warm touch. “And this,” he lifted the
irons, “is an improvement over earlier.” He quickly told them about it and Ben
looked as though he might pass out. “But I’m fine, Pa, honest,” Joe replied.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to
go over things with you, Joe,” Hiram advised him. “In the mean time, don’t say
anything, all right? You don’t have to say anything without me here, and that’s
what I want you to do, understand?”
“All right,” Joe agreed.
“I’m sending your brothers
to bring back
“Time’s up,” McGuire
announced brusquely.
“Please, couldn’t we have
another few minutes?” Ben pleaded.
“It’s all right, Pa,” Joe
assured him although he couldn’t quite keep the quiver from his voice. “I’ll be
all right.”
Looking deep into Joe’s
green eyes, Ben saw the fear lurking in the emerald depths. But he could see
the strength there, too. ‘I love you’,
he mouthed. Aloud, he said, “Be careful.”
“I will,” Joe replied. He
nodded.
As McGuire again shut and
locked the door between the office and the cells, he caught Joe’s eye and gave
the young man a satisfied smile, Joe felt a shudder run down his spine.
********************
In the side alley, the two
men stood invisibly in the shadows. “The other two Cartwright sons are going to
“All right,” agreed the
other. “Usual rates?”
“Usual rates,” confirmed
the first.
Money exchanged hands and
then the men went their separate ways.
******************
The night passed – well, it
passed. When dawn broke, Joe rolled over and sat up. The mattress on the cot
was thin and smelly and the blanket was threadbare. Joe was chilled and tired, the
chains having prevented him from sleeping for more than a few minutes at a
time. Reluctantly, he used the bucket in the corner of the cell and waited for
McGuire to bring his breakfast and start the day.
He finally got his
breakfast just a few minutes before Hiram appeared to talk to him about the
case. The single hard roll and cup of cold coffee would not have been
attractive when fresh first thing that morning, but Joe made no complaints,
just forced it down, determined not to get on the sheriff’s bad side.
“Who is your eye witness?”
Hiram asked McGuire.
“Todd Turner,” McGuire
replied.
“I don’t know him,” Hiram
frowned. “Joe, do you know him?”
“I don’t think so,” Joe
muttered. “What does he look like?”
“You beat him at cards last
Friday night,” McGuire replied. “
“I think I remember him,”
Joe agreed. “From out of town, isn’t he?”
“What’s that got to do with
it?” McGuire demanded, menacingly.
“I was just checking I had
the right man,” Joe snapped back. He saw the frown on the sheriff’s face and
wondered what piece of nastiness McGuire would think up to make him pay for
that.
“I’ll go and talk to him,”
Hiram assured Joe, missing the interplay between his client and the sheriff.
“Don’t worry, Joe, everything should go smoothly at the trial.” He rose. “I’ll
see you tomorrow. I dare say your father will be in later.”
“Thanks, Hiram,” Joe
replied, but his gaze was fixed on the sheriff.
As the man left the cells
area, he turned back and gave Joe a smile. Joe shuddered as the door was locked
once more. He had seen warmer smiles on the faces of wolves.
*************************
“I sure hope Joe’s gonna be
all right,” Hoss commented as he and Adam set out for
“All the evidence is
circumstantial,” Adam reminded Hoss. “And the eye witness is mistaken.
“Sure enough,” Hoss nodded,
trying to comfort himself with this thought. “But still, what Pa said about Joe
last night… Adam, I sure hate ta think o’ Joe in chains!”
“So do I,” Adam replied,
darkly. “I don’t know what Sheriff McGuire is playing at. There’s no need to
put Joe in chains. He’s just a suspect. Its not as though there was an eye
witness that saw him kill Suzanne.” Adam wondered briefly how Joe was coping
with the news of Suzanne’s death. They had all liked the vivacious blonde girl.
They rode in silence for a
while, each pre-occupied with thoughts of Joe and what he was going through. It
wasn’t a long ride to
But the reverie was
shattered by gun fire. Bullets bit into the ground beside the surprised
brothers, and for a moment, they drew rein. “What…?” Adam started, but Hoss
realised that whoever it was, was shooting at them.
“Come on!” he cried and
spurred Chubb onwards. Sport took the hint and galloped after his stable mate.
Hoss led them into a thicket, where he jumped down from Chubb and tethered his
horse to a tree. Adam copied him and they crept to the edge of the cover, guns
drawn. “Ya see him?” Hoss asked.
“No,” Adam replied,
tersely. “Do you?”
“No,” Hoss grumbled. “Who’d
ya reckon it is?”
“I have no idea,” Adam
answered, his eyes still scanning the surrounding area. “But why do I get the
feeling this has something to do with Joe?”
“Joe?” Hoss echoed. “How’d
ya mean?”
“We’re going to
His face sombre, Hoss
glanced at Adam. “Ya think someone’s set Joe up?”
“Indeed I do. As I said, I
don’t know who or why, but I know we’ve got to hurry. Remember what Pa said
about the judge that’s coming today? That he doesn’t waste time? I have the
nasty feeling that if we don’t get
“Don’t say that!” Hoss
cried and ducked as another shot tore through the foliage above his head.
“We’ve got to face facts,”
Adam responded, firing back at the muzzle flash. “We’re the only people who can
help Joe.”
“So how’re we gonna git out
a here?” Hoss wanted to know.
“I guess we’ll have to kill
whoever is shooting at us,” Adam replied, bleakly.
******************************
“You aren’t gonna see the
prisoner, Mr Cartwright,” McGuire repeated quietly. “The trial is gonna start
in a few minutes, and I’m not taking any chances before then.”
“He’s my son!” Ben
objected. “Surely you don’t grudge me five minutes with my son?”
“Can’t do it,” McGuire
replied. “I’ve got to get him over to the courthouse.”
“Does Hiram know?” Ben
asked, rather shocked to find that the judge had literally just stepped off the
stagecoach and was starting the trial less than half an hour later.
“That’s not my problem,”
McGuire replied, blandly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr Cartwright, I’ve got to
get the prisoner.” He blandly stared Ben down, making it clear he was not going
anywhere near Joe while Ben was still there.
Realising that he was just
going to make things worse if he stayed, Ben left to seek out Hiram. It would
be a disaster for Joe if Hiram wasn’t in court when the trial started. He
wished fervently that he could be in two places at once, for he desperately
wanted to see Joe, to make sure that his son was all right.
As soon as Ben was gone,
McGuire collected what he would need for moving Joe and went into the cell
area. Joe was sitting despondently on the cot, resting his chin on his hands.
He looked up warily as McGuire came in and blanched. In his hands, McGuire held
a long piece of steel with cuffs on either end. Joe knew at once that he was
going to be wearing those within the next few minutes. He felt a quiver of
disquiet in his belly, but rose obediently, determined not to make things worse
for himself.
Smiling to himself, McGuire
took off one of the cuffs Joe was wearing and locked it to the bars. Then he
entered the cell, all the time acting as though Joe was in the habit of
attacking him. He locked one end of the rigid cuffs to Joe’s free wrist, then
forced the younger man against the bars while he freed Joe’s other wrist and
then dragged it behind his back to lock into the other cuff. The metal bar held
Joe’s hands about a foot apart and McGuire knew that they were desperately
uncomfortable when worn behind the back.
“Let’s go,” he suggested
and gave Joe a push that almost floored him. Joe barely managed to catch his
balance. “Trial’s gonna start in a minute. You wouldn’t want to be late; the
judge wouldn’t like that.” He laughed as he saw the touch of fear that crossed
Joe’s face.
The walk to the court house
was a nightmare for Joe. The rigid cuffs on his wrists forced him to arch his
back, which immediately began to ache. The leg irons hampered his stride and
McGuire kept pushing him, clearly wanting to see Joe fall all his length. It
was only Joe’s natural athleticism and sense of balance that allowed him to
keep his feet.
All the way across, Joe
could feel the stares of the townsfolk. He could feel his face burning, but
kept his head up. He had done nothing wrong, and when Adam and Hoss got back
with
There was no chance to
speak to either of them. Joe was hustled into the courtroom and Ben was forced
to take a seat in the gallery. Hiram went to Joe’s side and the judge came in.
“All rise,” intoned the bailiff.
“Be seated,” Judge
Whittaker said.
Awkwardly, Joe perched on
the edge of his seat. Hiram shot McGuire an angry look and rose. “You Honour,
might I ask on behalf of my client if the unnecessarily cruel restraints he is
wearing could be removed?”
At once, McGuire rose.
“Your Honour, this man is a suspected murderer. I deemed it safest for everyone
concerned to keep him restrained. He is well known in the area for having a
temper that frequently gets the better of him. That is why he is restrained.”
“That seems wise, Sheriff,”
Whittaker nodded. “The restraints stay, Mr Wood. The sheriff has the safety of
the whole town in his mind.”
There was nothing more
Hiram could say and he sat down again, leaning over briefly to whisper, “Sorry,”
to Joe. Joe nodded, keeping his face neutral. With his character already on
trial, he knew he had to be careful and not let any sign of his temper show. He
had a really bad feeling about this.
“Let’s have opening statements
and witnesses, please,” Whittaker went on. “I want this trial over by this
afternoon. I have a busy calendar.”
*******************************
“We’ve bin here better’n
two hours, Adam,” Hoss commented, glancing over at his older brother.
“You don’t need to tell
me,” Adam snapped. “I’m as frustrated as you are.”
“I ain’t got many shells
left,” Hoss mentioned. “What’re we gonna do?”
Peering out from the
undergrowth, Adam didn’t answer immediately, as he went over the options in his
mind. Finally, he glanced at Hoss. “As I see it, we’ve only got one choice,” he
decided. “We’ve got to make a run for it.”
“Think that’s wise?” Hoss
asked.
“Whoever this is doesn’t
really want to kill us,” Adam reasoned. “He’s not making any attempt to come
closer; he’s just keeping us pinned down. Every minute we’re here means a
minute longer that Joe is in jail. I don’t think we’ve got a choice, Hoss.”
“All right,” Hoss agreed.
“Let’s go.”
“Hold on, let’s put down
some covering fire, make him think we’ve got to reload,” Adam suggested. “Then
let’s get out of here.”
Accordingly, they fired
some shots at the man who was shooting at them, then made a dive for their
horses. Shots peppered the leaves around them, but none found their targets.
Adam found it ironic that the person’s aim was better when the brothers were
moving than it had been when they had been still. He had the distinct feeling that they were
being toyed with. It wasn’t going to be easy getting to or from
***********************
The court room was stuffy
and Joe could feel sweat trickling down his back. He desperately wanted to turn
his head and look at Ben, but he was afraid to draw attention to himself by
doing so. Every movement was hampered by the chains he wore. Blinking, and
drawing in a deep breath, Joe returned his attention to the proceedings.
At the moment, Todd Turner
was on the stand and was singing exactly the tune the prosecutor wanted. “I
seen Joe Cartwright comin’ out o’ Miss Webster’s house,” he confirmed. “It were
about 3.30 in the afternoon. I thought he looked shifty, kind.”
“Objection,” Hiram said,
standing. “That’s the witness’ opinion only and has no basis in fact.”
“Sustained,” the judge
agreed. Ben wondered if the man really felt as reluctant as he had just
sounded. In fact, Ben wasn’t at all sure that Joe was getting an impartial trial.
The judge already seemed to have made up his mind that Joe was guilty. The
problem was, Ben didn’t see what he could do.
By now, Hiram was on his
feet, questioning the witness. Turner
couldn’t be shaken. He just kept repeating that he had seen Joe coming out of
Suzanne’s house and no amount of questioning would change his mind. So Hiram
called Joe to the stand.
“Where were you, Joe, at
the time that Mr Turner says he saw you?” Hiram began.
“I was in
“Have you any witnesses
that could prove that?” Hiram asked.
“Yes, the person I was with
at the time could confirm it,” Joe nodded.
“Your Honour,” Hiram went
on, smoothly, “I would like to ask for a recess in the trial until Mr
Cartwright’s eye witness can arrive here to testify on his behalf.”
“And how long is that
likely to take?” Whittaker snapped.
“I’m not entirely sure,”
Hiram admitted. “But I don’t expect it to be much longer.”
After a pause for thought,
the judge nodded. “Prosecution can cross-examine,” he announced. “Then I will
wait precisely one hour before expecting the jury to reach a decision. Do I
take it, Mr Wood that your entire defence rests on this witness?”
“Yes, You Honour,” Hiram
replied, wishing that he had another answer.
“I see,” Whittaker
responded, with a decidedly sceptical tone in his voice.
The prosecution’s questions
were brief, but left Joe admitting that he had a temper and he had been known
to have a night in the jail cooling off. They tried to imply that Joe and
Suzanne’s relationship had been turbulent, but Hiram soon stopped that line.
However, they all knew it was already too late – the jury had heard it.
But at last the prosecution
rested and Joe and Hiram exchanged a wordless look. If
“This court is in recess
for one hour,” Whittaker declared, banging his gavel. “If your witness has not appeared
by then, Mr Wood, I will tell the jury to come to a decision. Sheriff, take the
defendant back to his cell.” He rose and everyone rose with him.
“Come on, Cartwright,”
McGuire ordered, looming over Joe. He yanked the helpless young man to his feet
and began to drag him away. “Step back, folks,” he told the watching audience.
“Don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
As Joe passed him, Ben saw
a flash of despair on his son’s face. McGuire was doing everything he could to
reinforce the notion of Joe’s guilt in everyone’s mind. He had taken one step
in Joe’s wake when Hiram put a hand on his arm. “Ben,” he hissed urgently and
drew the patriarch of the Ponderosa to one side so no one could over hear them.
“When are Adam and Hoss likely to arrive?” he asked. “It’s looking bad.”
“I thought they’d be here
before now,” Ben admitted. “Do you think something’s happened to them?”
“I hope not,” Hiram
replied. “Ben, I have to be honest. If
“But he’s not guilty!” Ben
cried.
“I know, but the evidence
is against him right now, even if it is circumstantial.” Hiram stroked his
beard. “I hope that the judge will be lenient, but Ben, I think its best to prepare
yourself – its possible Joe could hang.” He wished he didn’t have to say that,
but he felt Ben – and Joe – ought to be prepared for every outcome and right
now, it looked bad.
“I – I see,” Ben stuttered.
He backed away from his lawyer, muttering something about looking for Adam and
Hoss, but he just needed to be alone. He couldn’t believe that his youngest son
faced such an ignominious death. How could he let Joe face this, knowing he was
innocent?
There was no sign of his
older sons and Ben began to despair. Slowly, he walked over to the jail, where
he knew he Joe needed him.
**************************
“Well?” Joe Cartwright
looked up anxiously as his father came into the cell area of
“No,” Ben replied, hating
to crush his son’s hope. He crossed to stand right at the bars, wishing that he
could be in the cell with his son, wishing that it was he who was in Joe’s
place. “But they’ll come, son. You know they will.”
Rising, Joe began to pace
restlessly. “I know Adam and Hoss will try to get here on time, Pa,” he agreed
in a low voice. “But what if they don’t?” He swung round to face Ben again. “Pa
I’m afraid,” he confessed. “What if they don’t get here on time? I don’t want
to hang!”
“It won’t come to that!”
Ben lied desperately. He wanted to have Joe in his arms, soothing the young
man’s fears, as he had soothed them when Joe was a child. But his son was a man
grown and facing his fears head on.
Stopping his awkward
pacing, Joe leant his head against the bars. He was still cruelly shackled and
that seemed almost the worst indignity to Ben. He reached through the bars and
began to rub Joe’s shoulders. The muscles were tense. “But it might,” he
whispered, so low that Ben had to strain to hear him. “I know that this judge
thinks I’m guilty and so do a lot of the jury.” He lifted his head and Ben saw
tears in Joe’s eyes, but they didn’t fall. “Something’s happened to Adam and
Hoss,” he went on. “They aren’t going to get here. Pa, someone is out to kill
me, but I don’t know who, or why! I’m going to die for a crime I didn’t commit,
Pa, and I’m scared.”
In the face of Joe’s
courage, Ben didn’t feel he could lie again. “I’m scared, too,” he admitted. “But
don’t give up, Joe. Adam and Hoss will do everything they can to get
There didn’t seem to be
anything more to say. Joe stayed leaning on the bars. Ben’s hands rubbed Joe’s
shoulders constantly, the touch comforting them both. Time was their enemy and
the big clock in the jail office seemed to be ticking with virulent loudness.
Joe knew the ticking marked the last minutes of his life. Somehow, he knew that
his brothers wouldn’t get back in time.
For the first time, Joe
thought about Suzanne. Snatches of conversations they had had played back in
his mind. “Thank you for the posy of
flowers,” Suzanne said, as Joe came into the house.
“What
posy?” Joe replied.
“Why,
this one,” Suzanne replied, pointing to the little posy of flowers in a vase.
“I found them on the porch not an hour ago. I thought you had left them there
as a surprise.”
“I
wish I had,” Joe sighed. “But I’ve just arrived in town.”
Lifting his head slightly,
Joe frowned. That hadn’t been the only incident in the last week.
“Someone
followed me home,” Suzanne confessed, as Joe saw her to her door. “Last night.
I was across visiting Lily Thompson’s new baby, and someone followed me. I
didn’t see who it was, but I could hear their footsteps behind me”
“You
must have a secret admirer,” Joe responded, trying to take the fear out of the
situation for her. “I wonder who it could be.”
Smiling
coquettishly, Suzanne teased, “The new sheriff told me yesterday in the store
that I was the most beautiful school teacher he’d ever seen.”
“I
quite agree,” Joe breathed, leaning in to kiss her.
“Pa,” Joe said, but at that
moment, McGuire came into the cell area.
“Time to go,” McGuire told
them, bluntly. “Please step aside, Mr Cartwright. I wouldn’t want you to get
hurt.” He unlocked the cell and took Joe’s arm in a bruising grip. “Let’s go,
Cartwright, and no nonsense.” Dragging Joe after him, they left the jail.
Stumbling across the
street, Joe was still trying to make sense of the snippets of memory. Someone
had been following Suzanne. The sheriff had said she was beautiful. It didn’t
add up to anything much, but Joe was sure it meant something. But how was he
going to find out?
There was no sign of Adam and
Hoss and Joe felt his breath shorten as he realised that he was about to
discover his fate. He was frightened and he battled to keep the fear from his
face. Hiram was waiting for him and the lawyer’s face was grave. Joe didn’t
even try to smile. It was taking all his concentration not to scream and beg
and cry. He wondered if everyone could see his legs shaking or if they thought
he stumbled just because of the chains. He hoped he wouldn’t throw up.
Before Joe could even sit
down, Judge Whittaker came in and sat down, banging the gavel. “Has the new
witness appeared?” he asked.
“No, You Honour,” Hiram
replied. “If we could just have some more time…”
“Your time is up,” Whitaker
replied. “You’ve had ample time. Gentlemen of the jury, I want a verdict within
the next 15 minutes. I don’t have all day.”
The jury shuffled out and
the audience began to murmur. Ben leaned forward to rest a hand on Joe’s
shoulder, but his son didn’t turn his head to look at Ben. Joe feared that if
he did, he would lose his fragile composure. Joe desperately wanted to pee, to
throw up, to climb on his father’s lap and hide from the world. He could do
none of those things and he tried to sit still. From across the court room,
McGuire smirked at him.
Within five minutes, the
jury was back and as Joe rose to hear the verdict, he knew already what it was.
“Guilty,” replied the
foreman, although he couldn’t meet Joe’s gaze.
“Joseph Francis Cartwright,
you have been found guilty of the rape and murder of Suzanne Webster. Have you
anything to say before I pass sentence?”
“Yes, sir,” Joe replied,
his voice shaking ever so slightly. He drew in a deep breath. “I am innocent
and if I had been allowed more time for my witness to appear, I would have
proved it.”
“You were granted ample time,”
Whitaker snapped. “Joseph Cartwright, I hereby sentence you to hang from the
neck until dead. I want the sentence carried out immediately. You will be
allowed five minutes to say goodbye to your family.” He banged the gavel down
and immediately left the room. From behind him, Joe heard Ben cry out in
protest.
Utterly numb, beyond
frightened now, Joe was led from the courthouse back to the jail. There,
McGuire forced him to lie flat so he could removed the cuffs that Joe wore, and
bound Joe’s hands behind him with rope. He savagely tightened the rough hemp,
but Joe was almost beyond caring.
“Joe.” The soft voice drew
Joe from his internal vista of hell and Joe realised that his father was
sitting on the cot beside him. He fell into those familiar arms and felt his
father’s tears falling on him. “Joe, I can’t let this happen,” Ben whispered.
“Pa, don’t do anything,”
Joe replied, urgently, shaken out of his reverie. “Please! He’ll put you in
jail! Pa, please!” He swallowed. “Pa, listen.” Quickly, Joe told Ben about the
things he remembered Suzanne telling him. “I don’t know if it’s got anything to
do with McGuire or not, Pa, but please, don’t do anything to make him arrest
you. Please!”
“Joe…” Troubled, Ben didn’t
know what to say. He didn’t know if could just stand back and allow his
innocent son to be hanged.
“Time’s up,” McGuire
declared, roughly. He came into the cell and dragged Joe to his feet. “Let’s
go, Cartwright.”
The fear rose in Joe’s
throat once more. “I love you, Pa,” he croaked.
Outside in the jail yard,
McGuire forced Joe to climb the scaffold. He sniggered aloud as Joe tripped on
the chains he still wore. At the top, he positioned Joe over the trapdoor and
removed the leg irons, binding Joe’s ankles together with another length of
rope. The noose was slipped over Joe’s neck and snugged tight under his right
ear. “I’m looking forward to this,” he whispered to Joe as he worked. He
slipped a gag between Joe’s teeth and ignored Ben’s outraged protests. “I swore
I’d make you pay for having Suzanne. She refused me, you know. I raped and
killed her, but you’ll hang for it!” He laughed as he stepped away, leaving Joe
writhing helplessly in his bonds, now knowing who was behind this and why.
At the bottom of the
scaffold, McGuire stepped into position, his hand going to the release lever.
He glanced at Ben. “There had better not be trouble from you, Mr Cartwright,”
he warned and all the politeness of the past couple of days had gone from his
voice.
Suddenly, from down the
street, there came the thunder of horses’ hooves. The crowd murmured
interestedly and turned to look. Joe
lifted his head and saw, to his intense relief, Adam, Hoss and Seymour riding
down the street at a gallop. “Wait!” Adam cried. “Stop!”
Relief flared through both
Ben and Joe. Joe dropped his gaze to look at Ben. At once, McGuire realised the
significance of that shout and he pulled the lever. Ben dived towards him – but
too late.
For a horrid moment, Ben
could see Joe hanging from the rope, but could do nothing. Then the spell broke
and he dived for the steps of the scaffold, but McGuire was in his way. “Oh no
you don’t!” he grated and swung at Ben.
Furious, terrified, Ben
punched back and decked the sheriff. At once, he sprang up the steps, fumbling
for the knife he carried in his pockets. Joe was choking, horrid noises coming
from behind the gag and Ben could only imagine his son’s pain and fear.
Desperately, he began to hack at the rope.
On the ground, confusion
reigned. Adam dived off his horse, and shoved through the crowd, trying to
reach the sheriff, who had picked himself up and drawn his gun. Before Adam
could reach him, McGuire fired, hitting Joe, just as Ben severed the last
strands of the rope. Joe plummeted the last few feet to the ground, to lie in a
bloody, broken heap as Adam tackled the sheriff, knocking him off his feet.
“What’s the meaning of
this?” shouted a voice and Judge Whitaker stormed into the yard.
“We’ve brought your eye
witness,” Adam replied, coldly, as Ben hurried to Joe’s side. Adam gestured to
“Who are you?” McGuire
snarled, trying to shake Adam off, and failing.
Dismounting, Seymour
Dawson, Governor of the State of
“We need the doctor,” Ben
replied, not having been aware of the conversation to that point. “Quickly!”
As Hoss raced across the
street, Whitaker cleared his throat. “I declare Joe Cartwright not guilty,” he
muttered, but
“It’s not that easy,” he
replied. “Whitaker, you won’t ever be judging anyone again. McGuire, you’re
under arrest. Someone find that witness and put him in the jail, too.”
Willing hands took charge of
the former sheriff and judge while Adam hurried to kneel at his younger
brother’s side. Joe was unconscious and Adam swiftly untied him, wincing at the
ugly bruises and rope burns on his wrists. Ben had already removed the noose
and the gag and was cradling Joe in his arms. “Please, God, don’t let me lose
him now,” he prayed.
**********************************
Time had ceased to have any
meaning for Ben Cartwright. He sat numbly in the doctor’s waiting room, his
mind constantly replaying the horrific image of his youngest son dangling from
that noose on the scaffold. Had Joe been hanging for too many seconds? Would he
survive?
At last, sometime after
midnight, the door to the surgery opened and Paul Martin came out. He looked
grim and tired. Ben was on his feet instantly, Adam, Hoss and Seymour only
slightly after him. “Is he…?” Ben began.
“Joe’s very ill,” Paul
replied. “But he’s holding his own right now. His throat is badly swollen and
I’m keeping a close eye on his breathing. I managed to take the bullet out of
his shoulder without an anaesthetic, but it was hard on him. If he had any
voice right now, I’m sure he would have screamed the house down.” Paul
swallowed. “I don’t know if he’ll ever speak again; I’m afraid we’ll just have
to wait and see. There’s nothing more I can do for him. He’s sleeping right
now, but why don’t you go in.”
Tears welled in Ben’s eyes
and he hurried past Paul. Hoss was right on his heels. Seymour and Adam
lingered for another moment. “Is there nothing else you can try?” Adam
whispered.
“Nothing,” Paul answered,
wishing that there was. “I’m sorry.”
“I won’t go in,”
“I wish I knew,
There was nothing
**************************
The dark red rope burn on
Joe’s neck stood out starkly against his pale skin. Ben sat down wordlessly by
the bed, taking Joe’s limp hand in his. There were bandages around both Joe’s
wrists and around the wound on his shoulder. His breathing was ragged and
shallow. “I’m here, Joe,” he whispered, his voice husky with tears. “We’re all
here.”
Leaning in from the other
side, Hoss ruffled Joe’s tangled curls. “I’m right here, Punkin,” he added. “Ya
hurry an’ git better, ya hear?”
“You’re safe now, Joe,”
Adam added.
Paul came back into the
room and came over to check on Joe. He felt his patient’s pulse and listened to
his heart, then gently felt the swollen, bruised throat. The Cartwrights
watched him, riveted, but Paul’s face gave nothing away. He pulled the bandages
on Joe’s shoulder aside slightly and Ben winced at the raw wound there. Then
Paul continued to check Joe all over and as he reached to tug Joe’s boots off,
his face changed.
“What is it?” Ben asked.
“I think Joe’s got a broken
ankle,” Paul replied. “Adam, grab his leg gently below the knee for me please,
while I pull this boot off.” Paul was as gentle as he could be, but Joe still
moaned in pain; his eyes stayed shut.
There was no question that
the ankle was broken. Paul carefully manipulated it back into place and set
about fashioning a plaster cast, which distracted the Cartwrights slightly.
Once the ankle was set, Paul checked Joe’s breathing again. “He’s still holding
his own,” Paul reported. “And that’s good. But I still don’t know how it’s
going to go.” He didn’t suggest that any of them leave. Joe could take a turn
for the worse and die before any of them could be summoned back and Paul didn’t
want that to happen. He went and sat down, and fell asleep, totally against his
will.
***************************
Somewhere outside, a little
bird was singing its heart out, telling the world that dawn had broken again.
Ben envied the bird’s joy in life. His world had narrowed to the rasping in and
out of Joe’s breathing. He was vaguely aware of Adam and Hoss sleeping in
chairs in the room, and of Paul Martin lost in slumber in another chair, but
those were subliminal thoughts. The rest of Ben’s being was centred on willing
Joe to live.
And at last, Ben’s prayers
were answered. Joe’s eyes opened slightly and he groaned. Ben tightened his
grip and leaned forward. “Joe, can you hear me? Don’t try to move; you’ve been
hurt.”
Green eyes dulled with pain
moved round the room, then fastened back on Ben’s face. His mouth moved, but no
sound came out. Joe looked astonished, then panicky as he tried again, and
still nothing happened.
“Take it easy, Joe,” Ben
soothed. “Your throat was hurt and you can’t speak at the moment. Don’t worry;
everything will be all right.”
By now, Paul had been
roused by Ben’s voice and was leaning over Joe. “You gave us quite a fright,”
he commented cheerfully to Joe. “But I think you’re going to be all right,
young man.”
Again, Joe opened his mouth
to speak and nothing happened. He let go of Ben’s hand and pretended to write.
At once, Paul nodded and brought him paper.
McGuire told me he
killed Suzanne, Joe wrote. He wanted her and she turned him down.
“Take this over to the
marshal at once,” Ben instructed a sleepy Adam.
“With pleasure,” Adam
replied, after scanning the note. He hurried out of the door.
Sighing, Joe closed his
eyes again. He was exhausted by that small effort. His throat hurt, his
shoulder hurt and his foot hurt. He frowned and opened his eyes. Everyone was watching
him anxiously and Joe coloured slightly. He gestured to his throat, shoulder
and down to his foot and opened his eyes wide.
“You remember what
happened?” Paul asked. Joe nodded gingerly. “Your throat is sore because of the
rope. You suffered partial strangulation and your throat is very swollen and
bruised. That’s why you can’t talk. You were shot and the fall broke your
ankle.”
Joe reached for the pen
again. Will
I be able to talk again? he wrote.
“I hope so,” Paul replied,
as evenly as he could. “But I don’t know. I don’t know how long it will take
for the swelling to go down. I’m sorry.”
Nodding, Joe closed his
eyes as desolation swept over him. He was glad to be alive, but, weak as he
was, he couldn’t take the news that he might never talk again equably. He felt
tears burning behind his lids and a few scalding drops seeped out from beneath
his lashes and ran sideways down his face into his hair. A hand came to rest on
his forehead and Joe didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was Ben. He moved
instinctively into his father's warmth and allowed himself the luxury of a few
tears. It hurt to cry, but the tears were cathartic and Joe slid back into
sleep.
Leaning back, Ben blinked
away tears from his own eyes. For the first time, he faced the prospect that
they would have a permanent reminder of Joe’s ordeal and he didn’t know if he
was strong enough to face it.
Hoss’ hand came down on his
shoulder and squeezed gently. Ben put his own hand up to cover Hoss’ and gained
a little measure of comfort, knowing that his family were close.
**************************
A couple of days later, Joe
was allowed to go home. His breathing was much improved but his throat was
still swollen and he was still unable to talk. Roy Coffee was back from
It was frustrating for Joe.
He was unable to get around much because of his ankle and he found plenty of
time to think. Initially, he was recovering his strength, but as he got better,
he found himself grieving for Suzanne for the first time and many nights his
sleep was broken by nightmares, where he was choking. Paul finally started
giving him sleeping powders, which Ben hid in Joe’s after supper coffee. Joe
wasn’t fooled by this, but since the drugged, dreamless, sleep was preferable
to the nightmares, he didn’t complain.
In fact, Joe was so subdued
that his family were getting worried. It was almost impossible to have a
conversation, since Joe had to write anything down and the frustration made Joe
withdraw. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but Joe privately thought that he
would never regain his ability to speak and he wasn’t sure what his future held
for him.
About a month after his
ordeal, Joe was slowly making his way down stairs for supper. His shoulder was
much better and he was able to use a crutch to get about. He was no more than a
step or two from the top when the door opened to admit Ben, Adam and Hoss. He
waved and smiled at them, and continued to watch as they called a greeting to
him and began to take off their gun belts. Absently, Joe moved the crutch down
to the next step, without looking at what he was doing, and missed the step
entirely.
With his balance gone, Joe
groped wildly for the banister with his other hand and missed. With a shriek,
he toppled down the stairs, to land in a crumpled heap on the landing.
“Joe!” Ben leapt across the
room and knelt by Joe’s side. “Joe, are you all right?” he asked, seeing blood
on his son’s face where he had hit it on the railing of the landing.
He was appalled when Joe
began to laugh. Joe laughed so hard that he was soon gasping for air, mopping
at the blood running from his nose, coughing and choking.
“Joe?” Ben exchanged
wordless glances with his other sons, wondering if Joe had somehow hurt himself
very badly.
Still laughing, Joe grasped
Ben’s arm. Suddenly, his laughter died and changed into a hiccup, which caught on
a sob. “I’m laughing,” he whispered. “I shouted when I fell. I can talk again.”
There wasn’t a dry eye in
the house as Joe was helped to his feet and tenderly laid on the settee. Ben
repeated Joe’s name over and over again, like a prayer of thankfulness. Joe
seemed unable to stop talking, whispering to begin with, but as his voice
regained strength, louder and louder. It was as though all the words Joe had
wanted to say for the past month were coming flooding out and none of them
wanted him to stop.
Eventually, Joe’s voice
tired and his voice dropped to a whisper again. They were all tired and no one
had even brought water to clean the blood from Joe’s face. It wasn’t until he
fell asleep on the couch that it occurred to Ben.
“I don’t care if they do say
‘silence is golden’,” Ben told his boys. “I hope I never hear that kind of
silence again.”
The End