WHN Shining in Spain

Sunshine and Shadows

By: Rona Y.

“Joe?” Ben said, softly. He didn’t get an immediate response. Joe seemed completely unaware of his father’s presence, as he gazed off into the distance. “Joe?” Ben repeated, slightly louder this time.

This time, Ben’s voice penetrated Joe’s mind and he blinked, and turned. “Yes, Pa?”

“You’re very quiet,” Ben noted, sitting down in a chair by the table on the porch. Joe kept leaning on the porch pillar.

“I was just thinking,” Joe replied, trying to sound more cheerful than he actually felt.

“Thinking about Wendy?” Ben asked.

There was a sudden rigidity about Joe’s stance that did not escape Ben’s notice. Ever since the first of the stages, run by Wendy’s father, Taylor Daniels, had arrived in town, Ben knew that Joe had been thinking about Wendy. He had thought about her a lot in the preceding six months, while Mr Daniels built up his new business. But over the last few days, Joe had been extremely preoccupied and Ben thought it had to do with Wendy. So he waited patiently for Joe to answer him.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about Wendy,” Joe admitted, sighing heavily.

Making an interested sound, Ben waited for Joe to go on. After a moment, Joe obliged. “I knew that I wouldn’t hear much from Wendy while she and her father were getting to know each other,” he began. “But I had hoped that when Mr Daniels came out to open the new depot, Wendy would come with him.”

So he was right, Ben thought. Although Joe had hidden his feelings from Wendy, he had had a harder time hiding them from his family. Joe had been more than half way in love with the girl when she had left to go to San Francisco with her father, but he had let her go, knowing that Wendy had a lot of growing up to do, yet hoping that she would come back to him. “I see,” Ben replied. “Did you speak to Mr Daniels?”

“Not really,” Joe replied. He leaned his head on his right arm, which was leaning on the pillar. “He was busy when I was there and he just said hello. He was pretty distracted, so I decided that it was better not to bother him.” Joe shrugged, trying to convince himself that it didn’t matter, when it really did. “And he went back to San Francisco before I got the chance to talk to him again.”

“So what are you going to do?” Ben asked, after Joe was silent for a time.

Sighing, Joe made a moue. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Perhaps this is Wendy’s way of telling me goodbye.”

“Do you really believe that?” Ben asked.

“I don’t know,” Joe repeated. “I don’t think Wendy really knew how I felt about her. She was very young,” he added, although he was not that many years older than her.

That was certainly true. Wendy had been enchanting, but very immature for her 19 years. But before Ben could say any more, Joe went on. “I’ll write to her, I guess, and ask her what’s going on.” He tried to sound casual about it, but failed. Forcing a smile, Joe straightened. “Good night, Pa.” He went inside.

Leaning an elbow on the table, Ben gazed sightlessly into the distance, as Joe had done. He thought he had better conjure up a reason to send Joe to San Francisco before he ate his heart out. He rose, wondering why love was never easy.

****************************

A couple of days later, as they sat down to supper, Ben looked pointedly at Joe. “After supper, you’d better get packed, young man,” he announced.

Joe looked surprised. “Packed?” he echoed. “Why? Where am I going?”

“Tomorrow, you’re catching the noon stage to San Francisco,” Ben told him. “You’re going to look at a horse for me.”

By now, Joe knew what Ben was up to and he didn’t know whether to thank his father or lose his temper. “But, Pa…” he began.

“But Pa nothing,” Ben interrupted. “I want you to go and look at a horse that I’ve been offered. If it’s good enough, I want you to buy it and bring it home. If not, well, that was a chance we couldn’t pass up.” He smiled at Joe. “And I hope you’ll have enough manners to present my compliments to Taylor Daniels while you’re there.”

“Maybe Hoss should go,” Joe mumbled.

“Ya’re the expert on horses, little brother,” Hoss replied. “’Sides, I got enough ta do right here at home.”

Meeting Ben’s eyes, Joe tried one last time. “Pa, you don’t need to do this,” he whispered.

“I know I don’t,” Ben replied, quietly. He nodded. “You go, son and look at that horse.”

“Yes, sir,” Joe capitulated, not sure if he wanted to leap with joy or sneak off and cry somewhere. But one thing he knew; he would be on that stage the next day.

***************************

Joe spent the journey to San Francisco vacillating between hope and despair. His travelling companions changed at every stop, and he felt increasingly lonely. The stagecoach was delayed and it was already dark when Joe finally arrived in San Francisco. He made his way to the Plaza Hotel, where his father had booked him a room, ate and fell straight into bed, exhausted.

When he woke next morning, it was almost eight am, but nobody at the hotel looked twice at him as he went in for a late breakfast. Joe dawdled as long as he could, but finally, he knew he had to make a move. He wasn't due to go out and see the horse until the next day, so he decided that he would go to see Wendy at once. There was no point in putting it off any longer.

Not knowing the city that well, Joe got lost a couple of times en-route, but passers by were quick to help him, and he found himself standing before a modest home a short time later. Gathering up his courage in both hands, Joe went up the path and knocked on the door.

Just as he was thinking there was no one home, the door opened and Taylor Daniels stood there. “Joe Cartwright!” he cried. He thrust out his hand and began to pump Joe’s hand enthusiastically. “What are you doing here? Come on in! How good to see you! How’s your father? I had hoped to see him when I was in Virginia City last month, but time was against me.”

“Pa’s fine, thank you, sir,” Joe replied. He felt extremely awkward, although he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Come in, sit down,” Daniels gushed and Joe began to realise that Daniels was the source of his discomfort. He had never seen the older man behave like this, although their acquaintance was short. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“No, thank you, sir.” Joe decided to come straight to the point. “I was hoping to see Wendy.”

At once, the animation died out of Daniels’ face and he sat down abruptly. Joe copied him, sensing that what he was about to hear wouldn’t be to his liking. “Wendy,” Daniels sighed. “Joe, she isn’t here. A few weeks ago, she eloped with her young man and I haven’t seen them since.”

“What?” Joe breathed. “Wendy? That doesn’t seem like her.”

Rising, Daniels began to pace. “He was a good looking young man, and he was idealistic, with lots of big dreams. Wendy fell passionately in love with him, and when he came asking for her hand in marriage, I said I wanted her to wait another couple of months, just to be sure that this wasn’t some passing infatuation. I don’t know exactly what happened, but when I came home from the office that night a few weeks ago, she had gone and there was a note left on the table. She said that he was going to build her a castle, one where the sun always shone, like the castles in Spain I had talked about when she was a child.” Looking at Joe, the younger man could see the despair on the father’s face. “My dreams, that filled her childhood, have come back to haunt me.”

“Were they married?” Joe asked.

“Oh yes,” Daniels nodded. “Right here in town. But they haven’t been seen since.”

“I’m sorry,” Joe said, awkwardly. He rose, wanting only to get out of there, for his own heart was breaking. Daniels wasn’t the only one with shattered dreams. “I hope you hear from Wendy soon.” Joe swiftly made his escape, not looking back. Daniels, sunk in his own misery, barely noticed him leaving.

As he walked back to his hotel, Joe forced himself to look back on the time spent with Wendy. He had to admit that he had built a lot of dreams on the things she had said to him while staying at the Ponderosa, but she had given him no real sign that she felt the same way about him as he felt about her. Even those kisses had not been kisses from a woman in love. Wendy was an idealist and a dreamer and Joe recognised that perhaps he had not been the man she was looking for. Joe was too real, too practical and Wendy had been looking for a dreamer. Joe’s dreams were too substantial for her.

Sitting alone in the hotel suite, Joe wished there was a way he could speak to Ben, share his misery with his father and thereby gain some comfort. But there wasn’t and Joe didn’t want to send a wire with the bad news. Closing his eyes, Joe mourned his lost love alone.

*****************************

The night passed – well it passed. Joe would rather forget about it completely. He rose the next morning and looked at his reflection dispassionately in the mirror while he shaved. The eyes looking back at him were somehow less green than usual, and they had dark circles under them, but Joe thought he looked relatively human. Certainly, no one looking at him would realise the depths of the disappointment that he had suffered the day before – he hoped.

With nothing better to do, Joe went off to view the horse his father was interested in buying. He hired a horse at the livery, since the stables were outside the city. The day was cool and overcast and the nag he was riding had had many years of hard work and was dull and spiritless. After half-heartedly trying to make it remain in a lope, Joe allowed the beast to pick its own pace and the slow walk suited his mood. In consequence, it was almost noon before he arrived out at the stables.

“I’m Joe Cartwright,” he introduced himself to the nearest man. “I’m here to see Mr Shaw.” A few minutes later, Joe was being shown into the house.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr Cartwright,” Shaw said, shaking Joe’s hand. “How’s your father? I haven’t seen him for a few years, but when I saw this stallion, I thought of him at once. He says that you are in charge of the horses at the Ponderosa now.”

“That’s right, sir,” Joe replied, trying to hide his pride. “Pa speaks very highly of you.”

Glancing at his pocket watch, Shaw nodded. “Lunch will be at one, so we’ve got time to go and view the stallion before we come back and have something to eat. Then we can talk business.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank you, sir,” Joe smiled. He followed the man out of the house, wishing that he could just see the horse and go. He wasn’t really in the mood for being sociable, but it would have been terribly rude to just leave and Joe had been brought up to have manners.

The stallion was everything that Joe looked for in a good stud horse. He wasn’t overly big – no more than 16 hands – but very well put together. He was a rich bay, with beautiful black points. There was a small star between his eyes and he held his neck proudly. “What’s he like to handle?” Joe asked, his tone not displaying any real interest.

Grinning, not fooled by Joe’s dispassionate question, Shaw replied, “Like any good one, he has his ways, but he’s not prone to biting or kicking. He’s very ticklish around his stifle, so you have to go easy when grooming him there, but other than that, he’s got a lovely nature.”

“Saddle broke?” Joe asked, hoping the answer would be yes. He had no desire to try and take an unbroken stallion all the way back to the Ponderosa.

“Yes,” Shaw nodded. “He’s rising six. Would you like to see one of his foals?”

“Sure,” Joe answered, although he knew as well as anyone that the foal could belong to any stallion on the place. It was an uncharitable thought, given that Ben was friends with Reginald Shaw, but Joe knew all the tricks.

However, the instant he saw the foal, Joe was convinced that the stallion was its sire. It was a miniature of the stallion, even down to the star between the eyes. Joe watched the foal, fuzzy with the first growth of winter coat, gambolling around the paddock and knew he wanted that stallion.

“Let’s have lunch,” Shaw proposed and Joe agreed. His heart, he noticed with surprise, had begun to feel a bit lighter. “So what do you think of the horse?” Shaw asked, as they walked into the house.

“He looks all right,” Joe hedged. “But I won’t know until I ride him.”

Smiling and nodding, Shaw showed Joe where he could wash up and pointed out the dining room. “Come and join us as soon as you’re ready,” his host told him, and went off to freshen up himself.

Quickly cleaning up, Joe went over to the dining room and got the shock of his life. “Wendy,” he breathed, looking in disbelief at the blonde girl sitting at the table.

“Joe?” Wendy looked astonished. She also looked older, more polished than she had when Joe had last seen her. “What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Joe replied, ignoring the glowering young man sitting beside Wendy. “I went to see your father yesterday and he told me you had…” Belatedly, Joe realised why Wendy was here and why she was sitting with the man, whose glare was darker than ever.

“Your father?” Shaw echoed. “Wendy, you told me your father was dead.” He looked shocked.

“That’s not quite true,” Wendy admitted. “He lives in San Francisco and he had forbidden me to get married.”

“He’s worried about you,” Joe told her, thoroughly disgusted that she could have done such a thing, and perplexed by the changes in her. The Wendy he had known six months before would never have entertained such a thought. “How could you do that, Wendy?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the young man interposed. “Wendy is my wife now and as such, she has passed out of her father’s control.”

“This is my son, Reg,” Shaw belatedly introduced Joe. “And I gather you know my new daughter-in-law.”

“Wendy stayed with us on the Ponderosa for a while earlier this year,” Joe answered, softly. There was an uncomfortable silence, as Joe studied Wendy, trying to see if there was a visible change to explain her change in attitude.

It was during this pause that lunch was served and Joe found himself persuaded to sit down and eat, although the atmosphere could be cut with a knife. Reg was deliberately making himself unpleasant to Joe, as though he could sense that there had been more to Joe and Wendy’s relationship than just friendship. Shaw senior was clearly very embarrassed by the whole situation but there was really nothing that could be said to ease things.

At long last, lunch was over. Reg rose from the table, kissed Wendy possessively and disappeared outside. Shaw cleared his throat. “Joe, I’ll just go and order the stallion saddled for you,” he remarked and hurried away.

Left alone with Wendy, Joe studied her. “You’re just as lovely as you were,” he remarked.

“I’m not going back,” Wendy replied. “Father has become so boring. I thought we would travel and live in a lovely house, a great shining palace. Instead, he works all the hours of the day and at night is too tired to do anything. I haven’t been anywhere else since we arrived here.”

Sadly, Joe thought of the number of times Wendy had mentioned her father’s dreams and realised that the dreams meant more to her than the man. “And Reg?” he asked.

“Reg is going to make my dreams come true. He knows how to make dreams happen without working so hard all the time. Look!” She gestured around her. “I already have a lovely house. We’re going to travel, Joe and then have lots of lovely children.”

“What happens if the dreams don’t come true this time?” Joe asked. “Dreams are wonderful things, Wendy, but they need to be worked at. Your father’s dream of that stage line has come true, but he’s worked for it.”

“It’ll be different with Reg,” Wendy insisted, not willing to entertain thoughts that it might not be. She didn’t want harsh, cold reality intruding.

“I hope for your sake it is,” Joe replied. He suddenly pitied Wendy, for all that she appeared to have everything. She was a child playing at being an adult. Her childhood had been coloured by the ideas of her father's never-ending dreams and she was unable to face reality.

From behind Joe, Reg spoke coldly. “My father says the horse is ready for you, Cartwright.” He went over to Wendy and put his arm around her.

“Goodbye, Wendy,” Joe said, as evenly as he could manage.

“Don’t tell Father where I am,” Wendy begged.

“I must,” Joe answered. “He has a right to know where you are.” He cast a glance at Reg and repressed a shudder at the look in the other man’s eyes. “Goodbye,” Joe offered and swiftly left the room.

******************************

The stallion was every bit as good as Joe had hoped and after he had put it through its paces, he spent almost an hour haggling over the price until both he and Shaw were satisfied. By now, it was well into the afternoon, but Joe refused an invitation to stay for dinner. One uncomfortable meal had been enough! He used the excuse that he wasn’t too familiar with the road back and preferred to ride it in daylight. Shaw willingly accepted the excuse and didn’t press Joe to stay.

Mounted once more on the hired nag, Joe set out for San Francisco. He had no trouble finding his way back and stabled the stallion in the hotel stables once he had returned the hired horse. Making arrangements to get a saddle and bridle for the stallion, Joe then went, had something to eat and retired for the night. He didn’t sleep much, disturbed by thoughts of Wendy and what might have been.

The next morning, Joe was hollow-eyed and yawning, but he was determined to set out for home that day. He had breakfast, paid his bill and collected the stallion. Then he turned his horse towards Daniels’ home and went to tell him that Wendy had been found.

Joe was completely unaware that he was being followed.

********************************

There was no reply at Daniels’ house. Joe walked slowly back to his horse, frustrated. He had no idea where Daniels’ office was, and although he could probably find out easily enough, he didn’t want to waste the whole day. Rummaging in his saddlebags, Joe finally found a scrap of paper and a pencil and scribbled a message. Joe shoved it under the door and sighed. He had done everything he could; now it was up to them what happened.

Turning, Joe walked back to his horse and fondled the soft nose for a moment, before unhitching the rein and preparing to mount. He was vaguely aware of someone else in the street, but paid no attention until something hard poked into his back. “Don’t move, Cartwright,” a semi-familiar voice warned.

A hand lifted his gun from his holster as Joe slowly raised his hands. The stallion’s rein was taken from him and the horse snorted, moving sideways as it sensed the sudden tension in the air. “Move,” the voice ordered and the gun gave Joe another hard poke in the back. Joe did as he was told, racking his brain to try and place the voice. This was someone who knew him, so it seemed logical to Joe that he knew this person, even if not well.

He was made to walk down the street and round the corner, where a closed carriage was waiting. It was only when Joe saw the brand on one of the carriage horses that he remembered where he had heard the voice before. “Why are you doing this, Reg?” Joe asked.

The street was deserted. If Joe was going to escape, he would have to rely solely upon himself. He started to turn his head, but as he did so, he was shoved hard against the carriage. “Keep your eyes to the front,” Reg warned him. “Any sudden moves and I won’t be responsible for what my associate will do with that gun.”

The gun travelled up to rest against Joe’s temple and his hands were pulled behind him and tightly tied. A blindfold covered his eyes and then Joe heard the carriage door open and he was shoved inside, stumbling on the steps that he could no longer see and sprawling on the floor. Immediately, he felt his feet being tied and he began to struggle. There was a curse and then something smashed down on Joe’s head and he tumbled into darkness.

**********************

When he woke, his head was throbbing. Joe groaned and tried to open his eyes. He realised that he was still blindfolded, and his chin was resting on his chest. Lifting his head, Joe tried to find a surface to rub his head against to dislodge the cloth over his eyes, but there didn’t seem to be one close by. As his grip on consciousness improved, Joe became aware that something was different. When he was knocked out, his hands had been tied behind him; now, they were tied to something above him and his shoulders were protesting the uncomfortable position. Struggling to free himself, Joe then discovered that he was seated cross legged, Indian style, on the ground, and each ankle was tied to the opposite thigh.

The ropes were securely tied and there was really no point in struggling, but Joe did anyway. The ropes didn’t move a single inch. He was well and truly trapped. Slumping in his bonds, Joe tried to work out what was going on. He knew Reg Shaw had kidnapped him, but he couldn’t for the life of him guess why. Surely not because he didn’t want Wendy’s father finding out where she was? That didn’t make sense. Some sort of ransom? Joe somehow thought that was unlikely, but he couldn’t think of another reason.

He was uncertain how long he had been sitting there when he heard a door open. The air around Joe was cold and damp and there had been a slight echo when Joe had tried shouting for help, suggesting that it was a large empty building. Two sets of footsteps came towards him, echoing off a hard floor.

“So you’re awake,” Reg’s voice noted. “That’s good. How do you feel?”

“What do you care?” Joe retorted. “Why are you doing this, Reg?” Joe desperately wanted to ask what they were going to do with him, but bit back any more questions.

“I’m doing it to teach you a lesson, Cartwright,” Reg hissed, spitefully. “You’ve managed to ruin my life, you know.”

“I met you briefly yesterday afternoon,” Joe scoffed. “How could I possibly have ruined your life?”

A hand grabbed Joe’s collar and pulled him up slightly. “Your appearance ruined our plans,” Reg growled. Joe could feel the man’s breath hot on his face. “Pa believed that Wendy’s father was dead and he was more than happy for us to live in the house and help him with the stud. We had everything we wanted and then you came along and spoiled it for us.” Reg gave Joe a shake. “Pa cut off my allowance, and told me I have to find somewhere else to live. He ordered us to go and see Wendy’s father, and beg his forgiveness. Him! That milksop, who couldn’t live up to Wendy’s dreams!” Reg shook Joe again, and Joe could barely hold back a groan as the motion put more strain on his already sore shoulders.

“I don’t see how any of this is my fault,” Joe denied, stubbornly. “Your own lies caught you out; my appearance was just chance. And I don’t see how this is going to make things better for you.”

Dropping the front of Joe’s jacket, Reg fumbled in his jacket for a knife, which he used to slice through the ropes on Joe’s legs. Joe was surprised by the action, but before he could speak, or move, he felt his hands rising further into the air as whatever they were tied to was lifted. Joe scrambled to get to his feet, swaying dizzily as he was hauled up too abruptly.

The upwards movement stopped when Joe’s feet were just barely touching the floor. He felt nauseated as he swung from his arms, and swallowed hard to keep from regurgitating the contents of his stomach. He was aware that someone was fumbling with his boots and socks, exposing his bare feet to the cold, damp floor and he struggled weakly, kicking out as best he could. That earned him a back-handed slap that set his head reeling in the opposite direction. By the time Joe was fully aware again, his feet were tied tightly together.

“I’ll tell you how this is going to help me,” Reg told him, once again speaking from a distance of about an inch from Joe’s face. Joe turned his head. “First, I’m going to make you sorry you were born, and then, I’m going to leave you here to die while I take that magnificent stallion and use it to make my fortune.”

“That’s a good horse, but it’s not going to make your fortune,” Joe replied, still hoping he could talk Reg out of whatever course of action he was set on. He wished he could see what was going on; he might have a chance of escape, then.

“I’m sure you can’t see that,” Reg sneered. “But then, I have no doubt that you are an honest man.” He made the word honest sound distasteful and Joe thought that perhaps it was, for him.

“Your father didn’t get to where he is today by illegal means,” Joe jibed back, rashly.

He regretted his words a moment later when a fist buried itself in his stomach. Joe was caught completely by surprise and he struggled to catch his breath before another blow found him. He gasped in pain as something very solid crashed against his ribs and before he had caught his breath from that assault, the object clattered against his arm. Pain spiked up his arm and Joe let out an animal cry of pain. Someone laughed and another fist buried itself in his stomach.

“Reg!” The shocked female voice brought the proceedings to a standstill. Joe could hear his own breath sobbing in his ears, hear the other men’s harsh breathing and although he was grateful that Wendy’s arrival had saved him from a worse beating, he was now fearful for her safety. “Reg, what are you doing?”

“Wendy, this has nothing to do with you,” Reg responded. “Go home.”

“I won’t!” Wendy cried. “Reg, this is wrong! You’ve got to stop…”

“Wendy, it’s his fault we have to live in a rented room,” Reg yelled. He swung another punch at Joe, which landed just above his ribs. “His fault our dreams are ruined!”

“No, they’re not!” Wendy sobbed. “Your father will let us go back home again, Reg, I know he will.” She sounded utterly bewildered and Joe thought that this violence was completely beyond anything she had ever experienced in her whole life. Reality was crashing in on top of her and Joe hoped she would be able to stand the strain.

“Wendy, use your eyes,” Reg snarled. “Do you think father would let me come home if he ever saw this? Do you really think I’m going to let Cartwright go? He’s ruined us!”

“No!” Joe flinched away from the scream and he prayed that Reg hadn’t hurt Wendy. As he heard running footsteps, he tried once more to rub the blindfold off against his arm, and Reg’s unnamed associate once more swung the solid object and this time it struck Joe’s thigh hard enough to numb the leg. The very next instant, Joe’s leg refused to hold his weight and he was left swinging painfully from his arms.

Belatedly, Joe realised that Reg was back. The other man was panting and angry. He grabbed Joe by the hair, yanking his head up. “This is all your fault, Cartwright,” Reg growled. “Wendy never had to know and now you’ve spoiled it!”

“You spoiled it,” Joe mumbled and received a backhand slap that split his lower lip. “I haven’t done anything.”

“You’re going to die!” Reg promised and he began to punch Joe harder than ever. Joe, unable to maintain any balance, swung from his arms, the pain growing worse every moment. A sudden blow to his back swung Joe round awkwardly and the grip that Reg had on his shirt brought the movement to an abrupt stop and Joe felt something tear in his shoulder. He let out a banshee yell and a split second before something struck him on the head, he clearly heard a police whistle from outside the building.

Joe sank into unconsciousness.

*********************************

“Hi, Pa,” Hoss offered as he came into the house and threw his hat down on the credenza behind the door. He glanced over at his father, who was standing as if frozen by the fireplace. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I got a wire from Taylor Daniels,” Ben replied, slowly. He was still holding the paper in his hands.

“Taylor Daniels?” Hoss echoed. “Don’ tell me Little Joe has gone an’ married Wendy!”

Looking up at last, Ben slowly shook his head. “It seems that something has happened to Joe,” he replied, his voice strained. “Taylor says he’s in hospital.”

“Hospital? Is it serious?” Hoss’ genial face was a picture of concern.

“I don’t know,” Ben answered, in the same, strained voice. “Taylor doesn’t say. He asks me to come with all haste.”

“I’m comin’ with ya,” Hoss declared. “We c’n set out at first light.” He put his hand on Ben’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Don’ worry, Pa, Joe’s tough. He’ll be all right.”

“Yes, of course,” Ben agreed, but he didn’t sound in the least convinced.

*******************************

The buzzing in Joe’s head wouldn’t go away. He finally cranked open an eye and winced at the sudden light. It took a moment for his focus to sort itself out, but when it did, Joe realised that he was in a small room that he had never seen before. He frowned.

“So you’re awake at last,” a voice commented from beside him and Joe slowly rolled his head over to look at the person who had spoken.

“Who… are you?” Joe asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Where… am I?”

“You’re in a hospital,” the man replied. “I’m Doctor Evans. Do you remember what happened? Do you know your name?”

“I…was… beaten up,” Joe replied. “I’m… Joe Cartwright.” He tried to ease his position on the hard bed and immediately a chorus of protest rose from his abused body. He couldn’t prevent a groan escaping.

“Good, so you do remember,” the doctor replied, sounding pleased. “I was worried you might not, since you had a nasty knock on the head.”

“How did… I get… here?” Joe asked.

“The police brought you in,” Evans explained. “Apparently a Mrs Shaw alerted them.”

“Wendy,” Joe breathed, unaccountably relieved that she was all right.

“She told us that you could afford to pay your bill, which is why you are in a room,” Evans went on. “Otherwise, you would be in a charity ward. Was she correct?”

“Yes,” Joe grunted. “What’s… wrong with… me?”

“I wondered when we’d get to that,” Evans smiled. “Apart from the bump on the head, you’ve got a broken arm, a dislocated shoulder and more bruises than you can shake a stick at.” A faint smile passed across Joe’s torn lips. “Are you in pain, Mr Cartwright?”

Given the number of times he’d winced or groaned since wakening, Joe thought he might be on doubtful grounds if he said no, so he nodded gingerly. He was desperately thirsty, too. “Could I… get a drink?” he asked.

“Of course,” Evans responded. He went to the door and beckoned to someone outside the room and a few moments later, a young nurse came in. She poured some water from a pitcher into a glass that Joe hadn’t noticed before and then helped him drink. She didn’t need to tell Joe to go slowly. He didn’t have the energy necessary to gulp the water down as he really wanted to do. In the meantime, Evans had disappeared and Joe wondered where he had gone. However, that question was answered a few minutes later, when the man returned with a syringe. He smoothly shot the contents into Joe’s thigh and smiled. “That’ll sort out the pain for you, Mr Cartwright, and when you waken again, you should feel a little better.”

There were dozens of questions Joe wanted to ask, but he was exhausted. The drug spread through his system, and his eyes drooped closed. He was asleep again in minutes.

**************************

The few days it took them to get to San Francisco seemed endless to Ben. Hoss did his best to keep his father’s spirits up, but he was almost as worried about his younger brother as Ben was. It was a considerable relief to finally see the city come into view.

After checking into their hotel, they made their way to Taylor Daniels’ home. Ben greeted him with barely disguised worry and Daniels didn’t prolong the agony. “I’ll take you to Joe,” he offered at once, picking up his hat and coat. “Wendy!”

The Wendy that appeared looked much older than Ben remembered her looking. There were dark circles under her eyes, indicating that she hadn’t been sleeping much and she couldn’t meet Ben’s eyes. Ben wondered what was troubling her. She silently slipped on her coat.

“I need to explain what happened,” Daniels said, as they settled themselves in a hansom cab. He quickly sketched in Wendy’s elopement and Joe’s surprise discovery of her. Then he explained about the row there had been, and Reg’s decision to go after Joe. “Wendy ran from the warehouse and by chance met a policeman. He went with her to the warehouse and they found Joe there, unconscious. They got him to hospital, where he’s been ever since.”

“How is he?” Ben asked. Vaguely, Ben wondered what Wendy had been doing at a warehouse, but the question vanished out of his head and it was something he never learned the answer to.

“Not too bad,” Daniels responded. “Broken arm, dislocated shoulder, and lots of bruises. He’ll be all right.”

“Thank you for helping Joe,” Ben said to Wendy, reaching out to touch her hand.

Avoiding Ben’s eyes, Wendy drew back so he couldn’t touch her. “It’s my fault,” she replied, almost inaudibly. “So I had to do something.”

Perplexed by Wendy’s attitude, Ben met Daniels’ eyes. “Where is your son-in-law now?” he asked.

“We don’t know,” Daniels admitted. “We know he stole Joe’s horse, the one you had sent him out here to buy, but he hasn’t been seen anywhere.” Daniels shrugged, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Ben.”

“It’s not your fault, Taylor,” Ben assured him. “And it sounds like Joe’s going to be just fine.”

All the same, Ben hurried into the hospital and identified himself to the doctors, who led him to the room where Joe was. For all the recital of his injuries, Ben wasn’t prepared for what he saw. Joe was pale, and his face was lumpy with bruising, his lower lip badly split. His right arm was encased in a plaster cast and in a sling. His bare chest was dotted with bruises and when Joe moved, he saw a huge black bruise covering almost the entire right hand side of Joe’s ribcage. “Joe!” he exclaimed.

Turning, Joe’s face lit up with a delighted smile. “Pa!” His gaze went over Ben’s shoulder as he saw his brother appear. “Hoss!”

“How do you feel, son?” Ben asked, sitting down carefully on the bed and putting his hand on Joe’s. Joe returned the pressure.

“Better than I did a few days ago,” Joe replied, honestly. “My head doesn’t hurt now.” He decided that it might be prudent not to mention the vomiting that the concussion had given him.

“What about everything else?” Ben asked.

“It’s settling, I guess,” Joe responded. His shoulder was still sorer than he would have liked, but since the break and the dislocation were on the same side, he supposed that it was only natural that it would hurt more than usual. And they had only that day put on the cast, trying to allow his shoulder a bit of healing time, but the added weight was making the shoulder throb again.

“When can ya git out a here?” Hoss asked, rumpling Joe’s already unruly curls.

Making a face, Joe replied, “Well, when someone brings me some clothes and pays the bill. I had money, but most of it was in my saddlebags and they were stolen along with the horse.” He sounded angry and a scowl settled on his handsome features. “I’m sorry, Pa, but Reg Shaw stole the stallion.”

“As long as you are safe, that doesn’t matter,” Ben assured him. “And let me see what I can do about getting you out of here.” He smiled and rose, squeezing Joe’s hand once more. “I’ll be back soon.”

Sitting down in the chair by the bed, Hoss examined Joe more closely. “Ya don’ look as if it were a few days since ya were brought in here,” he commented, somewhat tactlessly. “Ya still look pretty beat up.”

Swallowing an amused smile, Joe replied, straight-faced, “It’s the nurses. You really don’t want to get on their wrong side.” He was even more amused to see Hoss look indignantly towards the door and bristle. But when his brawny brother rose, looking as though he was going to go and sort out the nurses, Joe decided the joke had gone far enough. He put out his good arm to stop his brother. “Hoss, that was a joke,” he explained.

“Ah,” Hoss muttered, abashed. He suddenly gave Joe a suspicious look. “Why d’ya say that then?” he demanded.

Rolling his eyes, Joe replied, “Because telling me I look bad might not be what I want to hear after four days in here!” He sighed, melodramatically. “I can’t look that bad!”

“Yes ya can,” Hoss replied. He realised belatedly what he had just done and looked at Joe, wide-eyed.

“Thanks, I think,” Joe giggled. It hurt to laugh, but at least it no longer hurt to breathe, which Joe counted as a big plus.

It was more of a relief than Joe cared to admit that his family were finally here. Taylor Daniels had visited regularly, keeping Joe up to date with the hunt for Reg Shaw. Joe had been grateful for the man’s care and concern and very thankful that he had sent for Ben, but Daniels wasn’t the person Joe wanted to see while he was ill. Joe wanted his family and he had tried very hard to hide how bad he felt from Daniels. He was pretty sure he hadn’t succeeded, especially the first day, when he was so sick. Joe had always hated hospitals for their lack of privacy and this stay hadn’t endeared them to him either. At the moment, Joe’s most pressing want was to get out of the hospital. Then he wanted to find the stallion and go home.

Hoss kept Joe entertained with news about what had been happening on the ranch until Ben reappeared with clothes for Joe. Getting dressed proved to be something of a challenge, but with Ben’s help, Joe was soon fully clothed, although he had grinned when he realised he was wearing one of Ben’s shirts. His own wouldn’t have gone over the cast and sling he was wearing, but Ben had thoughtfully brought clothes from the ranch for Joe and his boots were in the closet. His other clothes had been covered in blood and dirt and there had been no money to get them cleaned. Joe had been hard pressed to keep paying the hospital bill.

Walking slowly, and supported by both Ben and Hoss, Joe left the confines of his hospital room for the first time in nearly a week and stopped abruptly at the sight of Wendy, sitting waiting with her father. He was completely shocked by the sight of her, for he had not seen her even once. He knew, from Daniels, that Wendy had raised the alarm and undoubtedly saved his life, but when she hadn’t come to see him, he assumed that she had either disappeared again, or had returned to the Shaws’ ranch. “Wendy,” he breathed.

Standing, Wendy looked as though she might burst into tears at any moment. “I’m so sorry, Joe,” she whispered.

Concerned, Ben glanced at Joe’s face. He didn’t think this was the best time for them to get involved in any blame laying, but although his son was pale, Joe looked all right. “What are you sorry for?” Joe asked gently. Unconsciously, he leaned more heavily on Ben. “Sorry that you saved my life?”

“No, of course not!” Wendy flared and her eyes flew to Joe’s face, only to see that he was smiling gently at her.

“Then you have nothing to be sorry for,” Joe told her. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“And this isn’t the place,” Ben interrupted. “Joe needs to get back to the hotel and rest.” He smiled at Wendy. “I hope you’ll come to see Joe later,” he added.

“Yes, of course,” Wendy replied, flustered, her eyes still fixed on Joe’s face, trying to see if he meant what he said, or was just being kind.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Joe said and the sincerity of his tone couldn’t be doubted. Wendy let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

As Joe was helped away, Wendy looked at her father. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered, tears streaking her face.

It had taken Taylor Daniels a while to become accustomed to living with Wendy, but he had been a fast learner. Reaching out, he pulled her into a tight embrace. “I love you,” he told her. “Everything is forgiven.”

************************

The short journey to the hotel tired Joe more than he had expected, but he resisted Ben’s attempts to make him go to bed and instead lay on the sofa in the sitting room of their suite. “What are you going to do about finding the horse?” Joe asked, as soon a late lunch had been served. He was surprised at how hungry he was, as his appetite while in hospital hadn’t been good. There again, neither had the food, he thought ruefully!

“We’re going to leave it to the police,” Ben replied, firmly. “And if that means we never get it back, then that’s what it means, Joe. I’m not having you risking yourself for a horse.” Not that it would have been the first time his headstrong son had done just that.

“But…” Joe began but Ben interrupted him immediately.

“No buts, Joseph,” Ben declared sternly. “Look at yourself. It’s been a few days since you were beaten up and you are still black and blue.” He frowned heavily at Joe. “I mean it!”

“Yes, sir,” Joe replied, sulkily, but he hoped to be able to talk Ben around. He thought he might know how to find the stallion. He continued to eat, now planning how he was going to persuade Ben to do as he wanted.

Lulled into a false sense of security, Ben tucked into his own meal, almost as hungry as Joe, since worry had taken its toll on his appetite. Hoss, on the other hand, wasn’t in the least taken in and eyed Joe for a moment before applying his attention to his meal. He would await the outcome of this game with interest.

**************************

A good night’s sleep and a whole day’s rest saw Joe feeling much more like himself. The good food at the hotel was putting colour back in his cheeks and being restored to his family had done Joe more good than any medicine. His restless nature kicked in as he began to feel his strength coming back and the following day, he persuaded Ben to allow him to go out for a walk.

The fresh air tired him more quickly than Joe expected, but he was still determined to start looking for his missing horse. All he had to do was shake off his loving watchdogs and put his plan into action. Joe felt frustrated that Ben wouldn’t even listen to his plan and was prepared to write off the money. It wasn’t a vast sum, but Joe felt there ought to be a principle involved here.

“Since you’re feeling better, Joe,” Ben smiled at dinner that night, “I’ll go down to the stage office in the morning and book our tickets home. I won’t make it right away, but in a couple of days. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great, Pa,” Joe replied, truthfully. It did sound good; Joe wanted to get home. And it meant he would have a chance to sneak out the next day and put his plan into action.

“Hoss will keep you company,” Ben decreed. “If you need anything, he can help you.”

“Sure can, Shortshanks,” Hoss agreed. He cast Joe a look full of meaning, but Joe blithely ignored it. “Ya can play me at checkers. I ain’t had a game since ya left.”

Not wanting to commit himself to anything, Joe just smiled. He lingered over a cup of coffee after dinner until Ben rose, saying he wanted some fresh air. Hoss decided to join him, but Joe said he’d just wait in the lobby. It was the chance he’d been looking for and he immediately went to the desk clerk. “Are there many horse ranches around here, apart from the Shaws?” he asked.

“I would expect most ranches use horses,” the man replied, snootily and Joe stared him down. He knew he didn’t look his best, what with the multi-coloured bruises and the fact he was still wearing Ben’s shirts, but he was determined not to let the clerk talk to him that way.

“I meant ranches that breed horses,” Joe replied, his tone frosty. The clerk got the message.

“Only two that I know,” he answered, his tone obsequious. “But I can find out if there are any others.”

“Thank you, please do that,” Joe nodded. “And give the reply just to myself, not my father or brother, thank you.”

“Of course, Mr Cartwright.” Joe was amused that he had finally been recognised. He nodded slightly and moved away, and none too soon, for Ben and Hoss came back inside at that moment and together, they climbed the stairs to their suite.

**************************

Getting rid of Hoss proved much harder than Joe had anticipated. He did everything he could to persuade Hoss to go out, but to no avail. His older brother sat stolidly in the sitting room of the suite and refused to budge. At length, in desperation, Joe decided to tell Hoss the truth. “I want to find the horse,” he blurted and immediately, Hoss turned to look at him, frowning.

“Joe, are ya plumb crazy?” Hoss demanded. “Pa’ll skin ya alive! Ya ain’t hardly out o’ the hospital and yer wantin’ ta go an’ git inta trouble. The answer is no!”

“Ah, come on, big brother,” Joe wheedled. “Doesn’t it bug you that Pa spent all that good money on a horse that he’s never even seen? I feel really bad about it. It’s my fault.”

“No it ain’t,” Hoss replied, stubbornly. “It’s that there Reg Shaw’s fault.”

“We’d be doing Wendy a favour if we found Reg, too.” Joe decided that a change of tack was called for. “If we found him, she could talk to him – make sure he understands what he’s done.” Joe was slightly surprised that he hadn’t seen Wendy again. He imagined that she must feel pretty bad.

“How would it help Wendy?” Hoss enquired. “If’n he’s caught, he’ll go ta jail fer what he done to ya, Joe.”

Oddly enough, Joe hadn’t thought of that. He sighed and looked down and Hoss hid a smile. He knew how much Joe wanted to find that horse and he thought perhaps it would do the younger man good to do so, even if it brought Pa’s wrath down on them both.

“How’d ya think ya’d find them?” he asked, and Joe’s head came back up at once.

“I asked the clerk to find out how many horse ranches there were near here,” Joe explained. “We could go to them and find out if they had been offered the horse.”

“The horse might already a bin sold ta them,” Hoss pointed out.

“I don’t think Reg is quite that stupid,” Joe replied, seriously. “I think even he’d realise that he’d have to wait a few days for the fuss to die down before he tried to sell it on. And even if he has sold it, I think he’d be planning to steal it back after a day or so and then sell it on again.”

“All right,” Hoss agreed, after giving it some thought. “But ya c’n take the blame when Pa is furious.”

“Let’s go,” Joe cried, jumping to his feet. His enthusiasm was dampened slightly when he had to ask Hoss’ help to put on his boots and gun belt, but his spirits rose again as they left the suite. Joe knew Ben would be furious, but he would deal with that when the time came. He was sure he’d be able to talk Ben round.

***************************

The buggy ride to the first ranch taxed Joe more than he was prepared to admit. He tried to keep a cheerful façade for Hoss, pretending that his arm wasn’t aching miserably, that he wasn’t exhausted by the short journey. However, Hoss knew his brother well and there was nothing Joe could do to hide the paleness of his face. “Ya all right, Joe?” Hoss asked, as he halted the buggy.

“I’m fine,” Joe replied.

“No ya ain’t,” Hoss contradicted. “Ya ain’t feelin’ good at all, judgin’ by the colour o’ yer face. This weren’t a good idea.”

“Well, we’re here now,” Joe retorted, angrily. “Might as well have a break before we go on, and ask if the horse has been offered for sale here.”

“There ain’t no point in gittin’ angry with me,” Hoss rebuked Joe mildly. “I’m jist worried about ya, that’s all. That’s what brothers are fer, ya know.”

“I’m sorry,” Joe sighed. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“We’re here now,” Hoss smiled. “So come on, young’un, I’ll help you out of the buggy.”

“I’m not that helpless,” Joe retorted, smiling slightly, but he accepted Hoss’ help all the same. Together, they walked up to the door.

The owner of the ranch, Owen Harris, was in, and looked surprised when Joe explained why they had come. “I know Reginald Shaw, senior,” he told Joe. “I’ve never met his son, but if he came here offering me a horse, I would probably jump at the chance.”

“So he hasn’t been here,” Joe replied, feeling suddenly deflated.

“He might be here now,” Harris replied. “Just before you arrived, my foreman told me he’d met someone in town earlier, who would be coming by today to show us a horse.”

At once, Joe looked excited and Hoss winced. His younger brother was already sure that this mysterious man was Reg Shaw and if it wasn’t, Joe would be extremely disappointed. Being of a placid nature himself, slow to anger and quick to forgive, Hoss could never understand how his younger brother could stand living on the extremes of his nerves all the time. Joe had settled down slightly, being a little less volatile than when he was younger, but he could still go from deliriously happy to deeply depressed within the space of a few heartbeats.

“What if it is Shaw?” Hoss asked, unsure what Joe intended to do.

“We arrest him!” Joe declared, as though Hoss was being particularly stupid.

“Ya got a broken arm,” Hoss reminded Joe, bluntly. “And Shaw done that ta ya. He’s dangerous, Joe.”

“I would be happier if the sheriff was here,” Harris admitted. “Wait just a moment.” He disappeared out of the room and Joe glared at Hoss. Hoss returned the look calmly. He was going to make sure that Joe didn’t get hurt again.

After a few minutes, Harris returned. “The mysterious seller hasn’t shown up yet,” he reported, “but he told my foremen that it would probably be later this afternoon before he got here. If you are agreeable, I’ll send one of my men into town and get the sheriff to come, just in case.”

“That would be great!” Joe enthused.

“An’ if it wouln’ be too much o’ an imposition,” Hoss added, “perhaps he could take a message ta our Pa an’ tell him where we’re at.” He shot a glare at Joe, to match the one Joe had just shot him. “He worries, ‘specially when Joe here ain’t bin well.”

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Harris smiled. “ I can understand that. I’m a father myself. You gentlemen wait here.”

************************

During the wait for the sheriff and Ben to arrive, Joe fell asleep on the settee. Hoss kept him company, while Harris got on with the business of running a horse ranch. Joe was wakened for lunch and felt rather embarrassed to have dozed off, but Harris was charm itself and eased Joe’s discomfort.

Shortly after lunch, Ben arrived and Joe immediately felt a worm of discomfort in his belly. Ben was glowering and anyone who had been on the receiving end of that glare would have sympathised with Joe. His father was not happy and he intended to let his son know that. Joe swallowed nervously, suddenly wondering if his good idea had been all that good in the first place.

“Hi, Pa,” he offered tentatively, as Ben entered the sitting room.

“Don’t ‘hi Pa’ me,” Ben growled. “Have you got any idea what went through my mind when I got back to the hotel and discovered that you weren’t there?” Ben’s voice was steadily rising, although he had had every intention of keeping it down when he first arrived. “And I suppose you talked Hoss into coming with you?”

“Aw, Pa, I couldn’ let him come hisself,” Hoss mumbled. “Joe did try ta come without me.”

“Thanks,” Joe retorted, and it was only then that Hoss realised that he had dropped Joe right in it with those careless words.

“What have you got to say for yourself, young man?” Ben demanded. He loomed over Joe and despite himself, Joe felt a qualm of fear.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Joe replied, wretchedly. “I’m sorry, Pa. But I wanted to get the stallion back for you, and to find Reg, as well.” Quickly, Joe rushed on, providing Ben with the same arguments he had used with Hoss that morning. It was difficult to tell if his rationale found favour with Ben, but Joe doggedly kept going. Finally, he ran out of things to say and concluded, “I didn’t mean to worry you, Pa, but it’s all my fault that the horse was stolen and I wanted to get it back for you and find Reg for Wendy. At least she’ll know where he is and won’t always have to keep wondering.”

Ben was silent for several moments. He kept his dark eyes on Joe, seeing the fatigue on his son’s face, the pain that he couldn’t quite hide and the sincerity behind his words. Joe always had been one for doing the wrong thing for the right reasons, and this seemed to be another instance of that. Ben should have been warned by the way Joe reacted when he discovered the horse was missing. Horses, Ben thought. It always comes back to horses.

At length, he sighed. “I can’t say I’m happy about it, Joe, but I understand why you did it,” he admitted. “I just hope we don’t regret this.”

“I hope so, too,” Joe whispered. He smiled as Ben sat down beside him and Hoss breathed a sigh of relief. He had feared Ben would lose his temper completely and order Joe back to the hotel. Hoss could just picture Joe’s jutting jaw as he defied their father.

The waiting was not pleasant and Joe’s impatient nature wouldn’t let him just sit. He was soon pacing away his energy, and although he would sit down when urged to by Ben, he never stayed sitting for long. The sheriff, who had been disgruntled at being summoned, had become more pliant when Harris had plied him with good food and warm coffee. However, he was making noises about returning to his desk when several hours had passed and there was no sign of Reg.

But just as they were giving up hope, a couple of horsemen rode up to the house, leading a bay stallion. “That’s Reg,” Joe breathed. “And our horse.”

“You people stay out of sight,” the sheriff instructed. “I’ll deal with this.” He walked importantly through the house to the back door, where Harris had gone to meet the men.

Exchanging a single look, the Cartwrights, to a man, ignored the stricture and followed in the sheriff’s wake. Ben kept Joe and Hoss back out of sight as Harris shook hands with Reg, listened to his spiel and then bent over to examine the horse.

As Joe knew, it was a magnificent horse and Harris quickly agreed to buy it. As soon as the deal was struck, the sheriff appeared. “You’re under arrest!” he told Reg, dramatically.

Despite being briefed on the injuries that Reg and his partner had inflicted upon Joe, and having seen the results for himself, the sheriff hadn’t really believed that Reg was dangerous. He had been so sure of himself that he hadn’t even drawn his gun. Reg’s henchman took immediate advantage of that, drew his weapon and fired.

It was luck that sent the bullet into the door frame, scant inches from the sheriff’s body. Belatedly, he drew his gun. Meanwhile, Reg was reaching for his mount’s reins, knowing that he had to get out of there.

“He’s getting away!” Joe cried and heedlessly threw himself out of the door, down the steps and at Reg.

“Joe!” Ben cried, drew his gun and raced after his son.

In one smooth, chilling, movement, the henchman turned and fired at Joe. The bullet struck Joe, gouging a furrow along his right side, and embedding itself in Reg’s chest. They crashed to the ground and Joe rolled off Reg, clutching at his bleeding side, groaning in pain.

The inept sheriff had managed to draw his gun, but his aim was hopelessly off and he missed the henchman. Ben, meanwhile, was hurrying after Joe and the henchman shot at him, too, as he mounted his horse. He missed and Hoss, standing on the back porch, fired cleanly and the man fell from his horse.

“Joe!” Ben knelt by Joe, reaching gently to see the extent of the wound. Hoss leaned over his father's shoulder. A single glance had been all that was necessary to see that Reg was dead. He lay on his back, his eyes wide open and unseeing.

“Is he all right?” Hoss asked, anxiously.

“Get something to staunch the bleeding,” Ben ordered, not replying. “Quickly.”

“Be right back,” Hoss promised. He glanced around. Harris was looking rather bewildered, but he saw at once what Hoss needed and moments later thrust towels into Hoss’ hands. “Thanks,” Hoss grunted and hurried back to Ben. “Here, Pa.” He gave the towels to Ben, who immediately started to wipe the blood away. Joe groaned. “How is he?” Hoss asked again.

“I don’t think it’s quite as bad as I first thought,” Ben replied. “But he needs to see a doctor.” Ben gave Joe a reassuring look as Joe clutched at his arm.

“Don’t, Pa!” he begged. “It hurts!” Again, Joe grabbed Ben’s arm, trying to relieve the pressure on his wound that was sending rivers of agony through his side. “Pa, please.” He tried to writhe away, but Ben prevented the movement.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” Ben soothed. “But you’re bleeding a lot and I need to stop it. Just lie still, son. We’ll get you to a doctor.”

Seeing that there was nothing he could do for Joe, Hoss straightened, glancing around. The sheriff was examining both the bodies, Harris was soothing the stallion’s nose and the ranch hands were milling about excitedly.

“Here’s your horse, Mr Cartwright,” Harris said, coming over, somehow sensing that this would cheer Joe up. “All in one piece and quite a beauty, I might add.” He saw the spark of interest in Joe’s pain-filled green eyes. “I don’t suppose you’d care to sell him?”

“Not after… what I’ve… gone through… to get him… back,” Joe panted. He tried to laugh, but it turned into a groan of pain.

Smiling down at the brave, determined young man, Harris put a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I’ll get a wagon ready to take you back to town,” he added quietly. Ben nodded his thanks.

“That was foolish,” the sheriff commented tartly as he came over. Joe didn’t try to reply. He blinked, trying to keep the pain at a manageable level. “Do you know who that other feller was?”

“No,” Joe panted. “I… never saw… him before.”

“Oh,” the sheriff replied, obviously disappointed. “Thought you said there were two men who beat you up.”

Swallowing, Joe bit his lip for a moment as he summoned the strength to answer. He felt remarkably ill. “I was… blindfolded,” he explained, his voice thin and strained. “I recognised… Reg’s… voice, but I… never saw… them.”

“No more questions,” Ben decreed. “Just relax, Joe. We’ll get you to a doctor soon.”

Closing his eyes, Joe clenched his teeth to stop another moan of pain getting away from him. He could feel Ben’s hands pressing down on him and another hand caught his left hand, offering comfort and support. Joe knew it was Hoss, from the size of his hand alone. The massive hand squeezed his smaller one and Joe squeezed back, feeling reassured from that small movement. He didn’t know that the weakness of his own grip caused his older brother immense worry.

Gradually, Joe felt himself slipping into darkness as the blood loss made itself known and he welcomed the warm darkness, for there, he felt no pain.

**************************

The blood loss was severe and Joe found himself back in the hospital for a few days until he was a bit stronger. The wound wasn’t very serious once the bleeding had stopped and took no more than a dozen stitches to close. Ben cancelled the stage tickets home.

When Joe was released from the hospital, with strict instructions to rest, he was very subdued. Initially, Ben put it down to exhaustion, but after a couple of days when Joe slept almost all the time, he began to wonder. Physically, Joe looked a little better; he was still too pale and tired easily, but he was definitely on the mend. When questioned, Joe admitted that he hadn’t slept well in the hospital and had hated being wakened so early each day. That had raised a wry smile from both Ben and Hoss, who knew that Joe was not a fan of early mornings! But even so, Joe was still entirely too quiet for Ben’s liking.

“What’s wrong, Joe?” Ben asked one morning, as Joe sighed for the umpteenth time in a few short minutes.

“Nothing,” Joe replied, listlessly. He gazed out of the window from his place on the chaise longue that had been positioned there especially for Joe, so that he could look out onto the busy street below.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing to me,” Ben probed. “Are you in pain?” Ben dreaded that the answer would be yes, for it was at least another three hours before Joe could get any more pain medication.

“No, I’m all right,” Joe answered, politely. Obviously making an effort, he asked, “Where’s Hoss?”

“He’s down checking on the stallion,” Ben replied. At once, an expression that Ben couldn’t place shot across Joe’s face and was gone. His eyes fled guiltily from Ben’s. “Joe?” Ben questioned, gently. “Talk to me, son,” he coaxed.

For a long moment, Joe met Ben’s gaze and Ben feared that Joe would deny that anything was wrong. But something – and Ben didn’t know exactly what it was – pushed Joe into confiding in his father. “That horse cost two men’s lives,” Joe muttered. “I didn’t want them to die, Pa.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Ben replied, stoutly. “I never thought you did, Joe and neither did anyone else.”

That brought a smile to those too-pale lips, but it was swiftly gone. “But they died because I wanted to get the stallion back,” Joe blurted.

“They died because they were shooting at a lawman and several innocent people who were trying to reclaim stolen property,” Ben said, sternly. “Even if you hadn’t been there when they were caught, they would still have died, Joseph. Horse stealing is a hanging offence.” Ben crossed over to sit beside Joe. “Did you pull the trigger that killed either of those men? No. Did you behave foolishly? Yes.” Ben softened the sting of his words with a smile. “But if you hadn’t done what you did, Reg might have got away and the sheriff might have been shot by him. Who knows? None of us can say what might have been, Joe and you have nothing to recriminate yourself for.”

“What about Wendy?” Joe asked, after a while.

“I don’t know the answer to that one, Joe,” Ben admitted at once. “I don’t know if she’ll blame you or not, but given what she did when she found Reg trying to beat you to death, I don’t think there’ll be a problem. And if you want to know what Wendy will do now, then I don’t have an answer there, either. I’m pretty sure Wendy won’t know the answer to that. Don’t worry about Wendy, Joe. She isn’t your responsibility.”

Looking up at Ben through damp, tangled lashes, Joe smiled slightly. “I wanted her to be, you know,” he sighed. “That’s what I intended when I came out here. I was going to ask her to marry me.” He dropped his eyes, but not before Ben saw the heartbreak there. “But that isn’t gonna happen now, is it, Pa? It’s the wrong time to ask her, just for a start, and the fact that she married another man tells me that she didn’t feel the same way about me as I felt about her.” Joe leaned his curly head against Ben’s shoulder and another sigh shook his slender frame. “I guess it’s really over.”

“I guess it is,” Ben agreed. They sat like that for a long time, until Joe, the burden lifted from his shoulders, relaxed into a deep, healing sleep.

*********************************

Another week passed before the doctors said it was all right for Joe to travel. Ben was relieved, for Joe had begun to complain about being cooped up, a sure sign that he was recovering. He had most of his usual colour back, although he was still in pain if he moved too quickly. But all in all, he was much more like the Joe that Ben and Hoss were used to seeing.

Once more, Ben made the trip to the stage office to book tickets home. They would travel at the end of the week and Ben planned to take it in easy stages, forcing Joe to rest if need be. He was as anxious to get home as Joe, not just to sleep in his own bed, but to take up the reins of his business again. He missed the routine of his days.

The day they were leaving, they took their luggage down to the stage office. A boy from the hotel was going to bring the stallion along just before they were due to leave. Ben had hired a buggy and they were going out to see Wendy and her father to bid them goodbye. Ben had briefly spoken to Daniels a day or two after Reg had been killed, but it hadn’t been a long conversation and Wendy’s name had never been mentioned.

As they neared Daniels’ house, Joe became quiet, dreading seeing Wendy, not knowing what her reaction was going to be. He was keyed up, anxious to get home and he fidgeted restlessly beside Hoss. “Calm down, young’un,” Hoss soothed. “We ain’t gonna be stayin’ fer long.”

“Long enough,” Joe replied, morosely. He felt his muscles tense as Ben pulled the buggy horse to a halt. He accepted help to get down from the buggy and looked up to see Daniels watching him from the door of the house. Joe felt a flush creep up his cheeks. He hated to be almost helpless.

“Come in,” Daniels offered and led them into the parlour.

Wendy was sitting by the fire. She looked pale and subdued, biting her lip nervously. “Hello, Wendy,” Ben said, at once, trying to put her at her ease. “We couldn’t go home without coming to say goodbye.”

“Sit down,” Daniels invited, trying too hard to act normally. “Can I offer you something?”

“No, thank you,” Ben replied, for them all. “We can’t stay too long. Wendy, I’m sorry about Reg.”

“Thank you, Mr Cartwright.” Wendy’s voice was devoid of all emotion.

There was an embarrassed pause. “How are you, Joe?” Daniels asked, heartily.

“I’m fine, thank you, sir,” Joe lied.

“He’s going to be all right, Taylor, thank you for asking. But Joe always tells you he’s all right when you ask how he is,” Ben corrected, with a mock frown at Joe.

Glancing at Joe, Wendy spoke up. “I’m so sorry you got hurt, Joe.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Wendy,” Joe replied, suddenly even more uncomfortable.

“Yes it was!” Wendy shouted, startling them all. She jumped to her feet. “If I hadn’t been so stupid as to marry Reg you wouldn’t have been hurt!”

“Wendy…” Joe started, but he had no idea what to say. He looked helplessly at Ben.

“You are not responsible for Reg’s actions,” Ben stated firmly. He wondered if this was the first time Wendy had mentioned her feelings, or if Taylor had been unable to deal with it. “You did not make him do the things he did. It is not your fault!”

“You’re very kind,” Wendy murmured, but Ben couldn’t tell if she believed him or not.

Rising, intending to make some social remark about needing to leave to catch the stage in time, Ben was horrified when Daniels said, “At least you can put all this behind you, Wendy. You can pretend it never happened and start afresh. Forget all about it.”

Stunned and embarrassed, the Cartwrights were frozen in place, unable to believe what they were hearing. Even if that was what they privately thought, none of them would have said it to the young widow who, regardless of her feelings towards the man at the end, had loved him enough to marry him a couple of months before.

Slowly, Wendy’s head came up and she deliberately looked at everyone in the room. Joe could feel his face burning. He desperately wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment. It was a moment he would remember in stunning clarity until his dying day.

At last, Wendy’s gaze came to rest on her father. “I’ll never be able to forget,” she told him, quietly. “You see, Father, I am with child.”

The End

Thanks as ever to Claire for the title!

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