This
story came about following a discussion on the BonanzaInAussie message board
about what we would change on certain episodes. The first one to be discussed
was Death At Dawn. Following a suggestion that was
made, the challenge was thrown down – quite lightly – for someone to write a
fan fiction based on the suggestion. I decided to take up the challenge…
Death
Withheld
An alternative look at
‘Death At Dawn’
By: Rona Y.
“I’ll come with you to see
the judge to the stage, Pa,” Joe Cartwright announced.
Frowning, Ben Cartwright
turned to look at his youngest son and saw the utter determination on Joe’s
face. Joe had been very calm and mature in the way he had behaved following the
murder of Cameron, the store-keeper and the subsequent trial of Farmer Perkins.
Now, Perkins was in the jail, waiting to hang at dawn and then there would be
no further need for the Cartwrights to act as deputies. “I can manage, Joe,” he
rebuked his son, mildly.
“I know,” Joe replied and
smiled slightly. “But I think we still ought to be careful, at least until
Farmer Perkins is hanged. Sam Bryant might try something.”
“Joe’s right, Pa,” Adam
agreed. In the jail house yard, the monotonous sound of hammering was beginning
to get on everyone’s nerves. But the gallows had to be ready for
“I’m only going over to the
stage stop,” Ben protested, exasperated.
“Yeah, but it’s why yer
goin’ ta the stage stop that interests us,” Hoss interjected. “Yer goin’ ta make
sure the judge is all right, ain’t ya?”
Opening his mouth to
protest that this was not the case, Ben hastily thought better of saying that
and closed his mouth again, for it was quite true. He was worried about Judge Scribner
reaching the stage stop in safety. Who knew what kind of revenge Sam Bryant and
his men might have in mind? “I’ll be fine,” Ben said, instead.
“I think it would be wise,
Pa,” Adam persisted. “Perhaps not Joe going with you…”
“It was my idea, Adam,” Joe
interrupted. “And I’m going with Pa, no matter what any of you say.”
“All right,” Ben
capitulated. “But I’m sure nothing will happen. We’ll all be perfectly safe.”
He nodded. “All right, Joe, let’s go.” Ben opened the door for the judge and
the three men went out onto the hostile street.
*********************************
There were quite a few
people milling about the streets in a state of high excitement. Ben thought
that he would have been quite safe going with the judge on his own, but he could
understand his sons’ worries. As he had expected, there were a few people
waiting for the weekly stage to
“I’ll be fine now, Ben,”
the judge assured him. “You and Joe go off and do whatever it is you have to
do.”
“If you’re sure,” Ben replied.
“I’m quite sure,” the judge
smiled. He shook hands with both the Cartwrights. “Goodbye,
Ben, Joe.”
“Good bye, sir,” Joe
replied and he walked across the street with Ben a step or two in front him.
It was growing dark. The
people who had been on the street were gradually disappearing and it was much
quieter, apart from the noise coming from the saloons. Ben had never been able
to fathom why people treating hangings like a party. He hated to have to watch
a hanging and he had never done as some parents did, and forced his young sons
to watch one.
Ben was so lost in his
musings that the attack caught him completely by surprise. He had the vague
impression of someone jumping at him from out of the alleyway and then
something crashed down onto his head. As he tumbled to the ground, Ben heard
Joe cry out his name just before darkness overwhelmed him.
Stunned by the attack, Joe
jumped forward, heedless of his own safety. “Hey!” he protested. He was grabbed
from behind and a couple of fists thumped into his stomach in quick succession.
A hand was clapped roughly over his mouth and his arms were twisted up behind
his back.
There was movement in the
street and one of the men who had grabbed Joe jerked his head towards the
alley. “Leave the old man,” he decided. “We don’t want them catching us.”
Still struggling
hopelessly, Joe was dragged away into the covering darkness.
******************************
A confused babble of voices
brought Ben back to consciousness. He groaned as pain radiated through his
skull and a hand touched his arm. “Pa, can you hear me?” The voice was Adam’s.
Slowly, Ben forced his eyes
to open and looked into Adam’s worried brown eyes. “I’m all right,” he gasped,
but another groan belied his words. He looked around him and discovered that he
was in the jail again, and the sheriff was ushering a crowd of people out of
the door. “What happened?” he muttered.
“You were attacked by some
of Bryant’s men,” Adam reported, his voice tense.
“I remember,” Ben sighed,
and closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that the banging in his head would
settle down. It took him a moment to realise that the worst of the banging was
coming from the yard outside. With that realisation came memory. “Where’s Joe?”
he asked, opening his eyes and trying to sit up.
“Take it easy, Pa,” Hoss
urged, preventing Ben from sitting up. But his tone had told Ben everything he
needed to know and he gazed at his two sons with growing dread in his heart.
“They’ve got Joe, haven’t
they?” he demanded and Adam reluctantly nodded.
“We think so,” he
clarified. “Joe was grabbed by the three men who attacked you and hasn’t been
seen since.”
Too shaken to speak, Ben
lay back down. Where was Joe? What did Bryant intend to do with him? He looked
up to meet the worried gazes of his sons. Bryant had said that they would pay
for convicting Perkins. Ben hadn’t liked to believe it; now he had to.
**************************
Fighting every step of the
way, Joe was dragged through the deserted back streets of the town to the
abandoned livery stable. The men opened the door and once inside, threw Joe to
the floor. He just barely caught himself before he sprawled flat on his face
and pushed himself into a sitting position, taking in the scene before him.
Sitting at a table was Sam
Bryant. That was no surprise to Joe. He looked at the men who had brought him
there and found that he recognised them all. There was McNeill, a bully a few
years older than Joe and Bertram and Turner, both of whom were particularly
close to Bryant.
“Why did you bring him?”
Bryant asked, looking at Bertram. “I thought we agreed you’d get the old man.”
“We knocked him out, but
the boy was there, too,” Bertram explained. “He shouted and we saw someone
coming so we took him instead. Does it matter? He’s a Cartwright.”
Rising, Bryant walked over
to Joe. When Joe tried to rise, McNeill kicked him back down. Bryant smiled. “Maybe
this is for the best,” he mused aloud, looking down at Joe. “The old man would
have been good, but could be the boy will be a better hostage. You can take a
note over to the jail. Let’s see how keen Ben Cartwright is on hanging Farmer
Perkins when his son’s life is at risk.” He gestured. “Tie him up.”
Determined not to be tied,
Joe leapt to his feet and made a break for the door. McNeill was on him in a
moment, knocking Joe off his feet and pummelling him with verve. Joe had no
chance. It was only when he was lying still, gasping for breath, that McNeill
dragged his hands behind his back and tied them brutally tightly. He then bound Joe’s feet and dragged him
across to one of the stalls, where he threw Joe down in a heap.
As the aching in his body subsided
slightly, Joe looked over his shoulder and was disconcerted to see Bryant
looking down at him. “You’d better hope your daddy loves you, boy,” Bryant
warned. “Or else you’re going to die very young.”
“Pa will do what’s right,”
Joe retorted. “Perkins will hang.”
“And if he does, then so
will you,” Bryant smiled. “Of course, I may have to give him an added incentive
to insure his cooperation.” He reached out and picked Joe up by the lapel of
his vest. “How much can you take before you’re begging your father to release
Perkins?”
Swallowing against the
sudden dryness in his mouth, Joe hoped that he was able to hide his fear. “I
can take anything you can dish out,” he boasted.
Laughing at Joe’s bravado,
Bryant dropped him back into the straw and walked away. Joe watched him writing
on a piece of paper and started to work the bonds that bound his wrists behind
him. He had to get free!
******************************
A quick but thorough scout
around the main parts of town hadn’t turned up any sign of Joe. Discouraged,
Adam and Hoss headed back to the jail, where they found Ben looking slightly
better. The sheriff let them in and quickly barred the door behind them.
“No sign,” Adam reported,
dropping into a chair.
“What’re we gonna do?” Hoss
asked, hitching one hip onto the edge of the sheriff’s desk.
“I’d like to know that
too,” Sheriff Biggs agreed, as he came over and sat down. “Are you still set on
hanging the farmer?”
“We have no choice,” Ben
replied, tonelessly. “If we don’t, then we tell everyone that they can murder
with impunity.”
“But what about Little
Joe?” Hoss demanded, his face aghast. “What’ll they do
to him if’n Perkins hangs?”
The anguish on Ben’s face
was an answer of sorts. He didn’t know what the real answer was though, but he
feared the worst. Yet how could he back down now? He had persuaded Beth Cameron
to testify on the strength of his promise that Perkins would hang if she did.
Could he now renege on his promise? He didn’t want to sacrifice Joe, but nor
could he exchange Joe for Beth. Ben was under no illusions that Beth would be
safe if Perkins was let free. “I don’t know,” Ben replied. “But we can’t afford
to back down.”
Troubled, but unable to
contradict his father, Adam looked away. “Besides, we still don’t know for sure
that they have Joe,” he muttered, trying to be optimistic.
The sudden pounding on the
door startled them all and they all reached for weapons. Rising, Biggs went to
stand cautiously to one side of the door. “Who is it?” he called. There was no
response.
Carefully, Biggs opened the
door and peered around it. The street was deserted, but he could clearly hear
the laughter from the saloon. As he started to step back in, he glanced down
and saw something lying by the door. Crouching, he retrieved the bundle, took
it inside and locked the door again.
“What is it?” Adam asked.
He reached for the bundle and then his heart skipped a beat and his hand froze
in mid-air, for he had recognised Joe’s tan vest with the deputy’s badge still
attached to it.
“Adam?” Ben queried and
rose as he saw how pale his son had become. At once, he recognised Joe’s vest,
too. Hoss swallowed audibly.
“There’s a note,” Biggs
announced and picked it up. “Release
Farmer Perkins and you will get your son back alive. If you don’t, your son
will hang.”
The silence in the office
was profound, broken only by the regular, monotonous beat of the hammer in the
yard where they were building the gallows.
**************************
As McNeill advanced towards
him with a knife, Joe glared at him defiantly. They had never got on at school
and McNeill had thoroughly enjoyed making Joe’s life a misery. He had bullied
the younger boy relentlessly, goading Joe into numerous fights. Joe was still
wary of him when they met, but he was determined not to show any fear, despite
the large knife that McNeill was wielding.
“Gonna give yer pa a
present, Joe,” McNeill crooned, sticking the knife under Joe’s chin. “What d’ya think? A finger, maybe?”
“You won’t make him back
down,” Joe retorted, pleased that there was no betraying quiver in his voice.
“Perkins is going to hang. Bryant isn’t in charge of this town any more.”
Furious at the lack of
fear, McNeill dealt Joe a savage backhand slap. The blow knocked the bound man
over and Joe bit his tongue and felt the coppery taste of blood. Before he
could recover his breath, he found himself hauled upright, with McNeill looming
over him, the knife poised. “Don’t say that, boy!” he hissed. “Sam Bryant is in
charge of this town and don’t ya forget it! If Perkins hangs, ya’ll hang and
I’m gonna be the one to do it.” He shook Joe harder. “Ya better be careful,
boy, it’s a few hours till dawn. Who knows what fun I could have with ya before
then?” He brought the knife up into Joe’s line of vision and pressed the blade
against Joe’s cheek. “Maybe ya won’t be so pretty when I’m finished with ya!”
“McNeill.” The voice was
disapproving. Only when his tormentor turned his head did Joe allow his gaze to
meet Bryant’s. “Not yet,” Bryant reproved him. “I just need his vest. Now hurry
up. The sooner Cartwright gets this message, the sooner the farmer will be
freed.”
“All right, Sam,” McNeill
agreed, sulkily. He slid the blade of the knife under Joe’s vest, not caring
that the cutting edge also slid through the thin material of Joe’s grey shirt
and cut the skin below. The cuts were superficial, but they burned all the
same. Joe bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. McNeill looked
disappointed as he slit through the suede. He repeated the manoeuvre on the
other side of Joe’s vest, and again, Joe kept quiet. As the remains of his vest
were torn from his back, Joe kept his head up and his gaze on McNeill. He was
determined not to show the fear he felt worming through his belly.
*****************************
“Will he go through with
it?” Adam asked. “I don’t think he will. I think he’ll realise that if we have
hanged Perkins anyway, he’d be foolish to hang Joe.”
“And what if yer wrong,
Adam?” Hoss asked. They had been discussing the matter endlessly, the cut up
remains of Joe’s vest lying on the sheriff’s desk in a silent reminder of his
peril.
“Look, we’ve never seen
Bryant doing his own dirty work,” Adam explained. “He usually gets someone like
Perkins to do it for him, doesn’t he? But something like
this? He can’t afford to let someone else do it. He has to go through with it
himself and I think he’s too clever for that.”
“We don’t know how ruthless
he is,” Ben commented. “He commands a lot of respect, but how does he get that
respect in the first place? For all we know, he does it by over powering
somebody.” He looked up and met Adam’s dark gaze. “He may think that Joe
wouldn’t be hard to intimidate, since he’s young.”
Hoss snorted. “Then he
don’t know Joe too well, do he?” he remarked and they smiled.
“True,” Ben agreed. He
tried to put himself into Bryant’s shoes, but couldn’t do it. He couldn’t
imagine threatening to kill someone to have a murderer set free.
“So what are we going to do?”
Adam asked.
“Hang Perkins,” Ben
replied. “And look for Joe.”
*****************************
The ropes were loosening.
Joe kept his movements as small as he could as he battled free of the ropes.
His wrists were bleeding, but that didn’t matter to Joe. All that mattered was
that he was finally making some progress towards getting away. There was an
open window at the back of the stall he was lying in and although it was small,
Joe was sure he could get through it. The last loops fell from his hands and
Joe lay still, glancing towards Bryant, who chose that moment to rise and walk
out of Joe’s sight. Frantically, Joe wrestled with the ropes that bound his
feet and they came loose easily. Not wasting any more time, Joe scrambled to
the back of the stall and jumped for the window.
“Hey!” The cry told Joe
that he had been spotted at once, but he paid no heed and wriggled with all his
might. The space was tight and he felt his shirt ripping as he squeezed his
shoulders through, but the cost in torn skin was worth it to him as he fell to
the ground outside, rolling to absorb the impact.
Springing to his feet, Joe
glanced both ways before turning to the right and running off. He heard
pounding footsteps behind him, but he didn’t risk a glance over his shoulder.
That way could easily lead to a fall.
Veering left, Joe raced
full speed along the next alley. If he could just keep ahead of his pursuers,
he could make it back to the main street where he would be safe. Joe stumbled,
but caught himself, panting, resisting the temptation to see how close his
captors were.
From ahead, Joe could
suddenly hear other footsteps. He didn’t know who the person was, but reasoned
that it was as likely to be someone he could trust as someone he couldn’t
trust. He ran towards the sound.
As Sheriff Biggs came into
view, Joe felt overwhelming relief course through his veins. He was safe!
“Sheriff!” he cried and felt something slam into his shoulder, knocking him off
his feet.
The echo of the thud as he hit
the ground was quickly followed by a shot. Lifting his head, Joe was horrified
to see the sheriff fall to the ground, unmoving. He tried to get to his feet,
but pain was radiating outwards from his shoulder. Joe felt rough hands grab
him and he struggled weakly to get free. He was dragged quickly back the way he
had come and a gag was thrust into his mouth as his hands were twisted up his
back. Something was ripped from his shoulder and the pain was so intense that
Joe almost blacked out. He was barely conscious as he was hurriedly dragged
back to the stable and the gag was removed.
“So you thought you could
escape did you, boy?” Bryant sneered, forcing Joe’s chin up. “I can see we’ll
have to watch you!” He let go of Joe. “Tie him up again and this
time do it properly,” he ordered. “And we’ll try the noose out for size
while we’re at it.”
Waves of pain lapped at
Joe’s consciousness as his hands were tied roughly behind him again. Once they
were further secured by a rope going around his waist and back over his bound
hands, Joe was dragged over to a pile of boxes and forced to climb them. He
stood, wavering, on the top and Bryant climbed onto a chair and fitted a noose
over his head, tightening it around his neck.
“It’s a good fit, boy,”
Bryant sneered. He peered into Joe’s face, taking satisfaction from the pain he
could see etched there. “How does it feel?”
“Pa won’t back down,” Joe
croaked. His head was reeling and something warm was trickling down his back.
Joe knew he was bleeding badly.
“I think he will,” Bryant
insisted and Joe almost asked him why he thought he knew Joe’s father better
than Joe did. But the effort of framing the question was too much for him. He
stood quiescent as the noose was loosened again and then McNeill dragged him
down from the boxes, allowing him to fall to the floor. The impact hurt his
shoulder anew and he couldn’t prevent a cry from escaping his lips.
Dragging Joe across the
floor to the stall once more, McNeill knelt to tie his feet together. This
time, he threaded the end of the rope through the metal ring set into the wall
that was intended to keep horses from straying and then tied it around Joe’s
ankles again. There would be no escape.
“Ya made me look like a fool, boy,” McNeill hissed as he knelt by Joe on
the pretext that he was checking the rope that bound his hands. “But I got even
with ya.” He held up his Bowie knife. “I knew what I was doin’ an’ the sheriff
ain’t gonna be tellin’ yore daddy where ya are!”
Left alone, Joe closed his
eyes. The pain in his shoulder had abated slightly now that he was no longer
moving and he didn’t feel so dizzy lying down. A movement on the periphery of
his vision made Joe look that way.
The noose swung backwards
and forwards, a constant reminder of his fate.
*****************************
The cry of “Sheriff!”
echoed faintly through the streets, but Adam recognised the voice at once. He
spun around and began to run towards the voice and was shocked when he heard a
shot. Adam forced his feet to move faster, but he knew that he would be too
late. There was no return of fire. Gun drawn, he barrelled round the corner and
saw Biggs sprawled on the ground. Blood poured from his chest.
There was no one else in
sight, and Adam cautiously holstered his gun before kneeling by the sheriff.
Biggs was still alive, but he was gravely wounded. Adam looked up, wondering
what would be best to do, when he heard footsteps and moments later, Hoss
panted into view.
“Adam! Are ya all right?”
Hoss gasped.
“I’m fine,” Adam replied. “But
Biggs is hurt. We need to get him to Doc Martin.” He helped Hoss to pick Biggs
up, evoking a groan from the injured man. “I heard Joe’s voice,” he added. “Just before the shot. I thought…” Adam couldn’t go on, but
Hoss knew what he had thought.
“Ya thought it were Joe
what was hit, didn’ ya?” he asked, gently.
“Yes,” Adam nodded. “There
was no sign of him, but I couldn’t leave Biggs to look.” The anguish was clear
in Adam’s voice.
“Course ya couldn’,” Hoss
agreed. He walked steadily towards the doctor’s house, but his thoughts were
with his younger brother.
*********************************
“This is bad news,” Ben
commented, as Adam finished his report. Biggs would live, but he was going to
be out of action for some time to come. Ben’s eyes drifted to the clock. It was
almost
“How are you feeling, Pa?”
Adam asked. Ben had regained a lot of his colour and looked much better to
Adam’s eyes.
“I’m fine, son, thank you,”
Ben replied, rather distractedly. He rose and walked over to the door that
separated them from the cells.
As he had expected, Perkins
was awake, slumped on the narrow cot. “Time is running out,” Ben told him,
coldly. “Do you want to see a preacher?”
“I killed a preacher once
in
“You’ve got less than an
hour left,” Ben replied, ignoring the question. “If I were you, I’d make my
peace with God.”
“Well, you ain’t me,”
Perkins sneered. “Sam ain’t gonna let me hang. I don’t have nuthin’ ta worry
about.” He giggled again.
Silently, Ben left the
cells, closing the door behind him. Perkins smirked to himself as he sat back
down on the cot.
*************************
“Where do you think you’re
going, Turner?” Bryant demanded loudly.
Jolted out of the light doze
he had fallen into, Joe craned his neck to peer around the stall partition. The
way he had been tied, his feet were slightly raised in the air, and he couldn’t
use them for leverage to change his position.
“I’m leavin’, Sam,” Turner
replied. “You ain’t gonna win. The farmer’s gonna hang an’ I don’t want ta be
around when he does.”
“Coward!” McNeill cried.
Drawing his gun in a quick
movement, Turner aimed it at Bryant. “Don’t make me shoot you,” he warned them.
“Sam, I’ve done your dirty work for the last time. Ben Cartwright ain’t gonna
back down. He’s gonna hang Farmer Perkins and there ain’t nuthin’ you can do
about it. But I ain’t gonna stay here and watch you hang an innocent boy.
Bertram’s already gone.”
“Sam’s done everything for
ya!” McNeill argued. “Ya rotten traitor!”
Putting his hand onto
McNeill’s arm, Bryant shook his head. “Let him go if he wants. I don’t want
anyone working for me whose heart isn’t in it.” He fixed Turner with a level
gaze. “But I’ll remember this when Perkins is set free.”
Shrugging, Turner slipped
through the stable door. He looked unperturbed by the implied threat.
“How could you let him go,
Sam?” McNeill cried, turning to his mentor.
“I’m better off without him
if that’s the way he feels,” Bryant replied. “And you’re still here.”
Mollified by that admission
of trust, McNeill started to preen himself. He glanced over towards Joe, and
was enraged to see Joe peering round the partition. “He’s seen it all!” he
cried. “Cartwright saw Turner leave!” He raced across the barn.
There was nothing Joe could
do, nowhere that he could run. He was lying flat on his back, on top of his
bound hands and his legs were tied to a metal ring in the wall. But that didn’t
stop him trying to squirm across the floor to get away, despite the pain the
movement awakened in his injured shoulder.
McNeill’s boot caught Joe
in the left ribs and the force of the kick rolled him onto his right side.
Joe’s bad shoulder felt like it was going to explode as his weight was placed
on it and Joe’s legs were twisting painfully. He groaned and rolled back, just
in time for another hard kick to his ribs. This time, he was flipped over onto
his face.
“Stop it!” Bryant ordered.
He dragged the enraged McNeill away from the helpless prisoner. “We need to keep
him alive for a little while yet. It’s not quite five.” He patted McNeill’s
shoulder. “After all, you do want to see him hang, don’t you?”
“Sure, Sam,” McNeill
grinned, his killing rage draining away as though it had never been.
“Good,” Bryant grinned.
“Now, go down to the jail and see what’s happening.”
“All right,” McNeill
agreed. He trotted obediently to the door and slipped through.
Watching his henchman go,
Bryant then turned his attention back to Joe. He bent down and flipped Joe over
onto his back again and smiled grimly at the yelp of pain that Joe let out.
“Your time is almost up,” he told the young man with chilling quietness. He
moved down to Joe’s feet and began to free them from the ring in the wall. “Are
you ready to die? It seems a shame for someone so young to die so needlessly,
but if your father thinks as little of you as that, then perhaps it doesn’t
matter so much.”
“You don’t understand,” Joe
scoffed. His back burned with fire and he could feel fresh blood oozing from
the wound on his shoulder, but he was waiting for Bryant to free his feet so he
could make a break for freedom again. “This isn’t about me any more.”
Giving Joe a hard look,
Bryant turned his attention back to the length of rope in his hand. He tied it
around Joe’s knees. “That’s surprisingly perceptive of you,” Bryant observed.
“I didn’t think you were clever enough to work that out.”
“There are a lot of things
you didn’t think of,” Joe retorted and gasped as Bryant’s fleshy hand struck
him hard on the mouth.
“It doesn’t change
anything,” Bryant told him, hauling Joe to his feet by the tattered remains of
his shirt. “You’re still going to hang. How long do you think you can balance
up there with your legs tied like that?”
Fear fluttered in Joe’s
belly and he felt a strong urge to urinate. “I’m just sorry I won’t be around
to see you hang, Bryant,” he declared. He jerked his head aside as Bryant once
more struck at his face. He missed, but caught Joe across the face with his
return swing.
“You think you’re so
smart,” Bryant hissed in his face. “Well, we’ll see who the smart one is, won’t
we, boy?” He dragged Joe across the floor and bodily lifted him onto the boxes.
Joe teetered uneasily on his bound feet as Bryant settled the noose over his
head. “Are you ready to die?” Bryant asked.
Much as Joe wanted to smile
in his face, he couldn’t. Frozen with fear, he awaited the end.
********************************
“What’s in that area of
town?” Ben asked.
“Warehouses, sheds, the old
livery,” Adam replied. “Why?”
“I was just trying to think
if there was somewhere that was suitable for Bryant to keep Joe,” Ben replied.
“But there are too many!”
“Not really,” Hoss denied.
“Most of them warehouses is real full o’ stuff,
His dark eyes suddenly
alight with excitement, Adam nodded. “Hoss is right!” he cried. “But they could
be in the old livery! Plenty of room in there!”
“We’ve got to check it out,”
Ben declared, rising. He glanced at the clock. It was five minutes to five.
“But one of us has to stay here to see Perkins hanged.”
“I’ll stay,” Adam offered
quickly. He was no keener than the rest of the family to see the grisly sight,
but he knew that the tender-hearted Hoss would hate to do it and Ben
desperately needed to see that Joe was all right. Adam did, too, but that
couldn’t be helped. “You go and get Joe.”
“Thank you, son,” Ben
breathed, putting his hand on Adam’s arm. He nodded to Hoss and they hurried
out of the door.
Once they were gone, Adam
took a deep breath and went to the cells. “On your feet, Perkins,” he ordered.
“Turn around and put your hands behind you.”
For a moment, he thought
the other man was going to refuse, but with an insouciant grin, Perkins did as
he was bid. Adam quickly tied his hands behind him. “Ain’t gonna do ya no
good,” Perkins told Adam as the latter opened the cell and pulled Perkins out.
“Sam ain’t gonna let me hang.”
“I would put a bet on
that,” Adam replied, coolly, “but you aren’t going to be around to pay me.”
Just for a moment, the
other’s confident mask slipped, but as he was made to go up the gallows steps,
he was still grinning and giggling to himself. The hangman adjusted the noose
around his neck and made sure Perkins was standing on the trapdoor. Adam
watched, but the person he saw with a noose around his neck was his youngest
brother.
Blinking, Adam looked at
his watch. “Its five,” he announced and the trapdoor opened. Adam looked away.
It was done, and nothing
could recall Perkins to life. As Adam walked slowly back into the jailhouse, he
wondered if it had really been worth it. What if Joe had died, too?
***************************************
There was a crowd outside
the jail, but Ben and Hoss managed to get through them without saying anything.
Most people were too inebriated to prevent their purposeful pushing. But once
they were onto the side streets, they became more cautious. It wouldn’t do to
somehow walk into a trap.
But what they walked into
wasn’t a trap – it was McNeill.
Hoss grabbed the smaller
man in one big hand and shook him. “Where’s ma little brother?” he demanded.
When he was angry, Hoss
could be very intimidating and he loomed over McNeill. “I...I don’t know,” McNeill
stuttered unconvincingly.
“What d’ya want me ta break
first, Pa?” Hoss enquired.
Even though Ben knew that
there was no way on earth that Hoss would really harm McNeill with such cold
blooded deliberateness, he was still shaken by the venom in his son’s voice. “A
finger?” he hazarded.
“I’ll start there,” Hoss
agreed and dragged McNeill’s hand up in front of his face. He got a good grip
on the pinky finger. McNeill’s face was white.
“The livery,” he whispered.
“The old livery. Please, don’t hurt me.”
Looking contemptuously at
him, Hoss drew back his fist and punched McNeill in the face. The other man
went down and out and Hoss dropped him to the street. “Scum,” he muttered. “C’mon,
“That was very impressive,
son,” Ben commented, as they hurried towards the livery. “Remind me never to
get on your bad side.”
“Aw, Pa, I wouldn’ really
have hurt the little weasel,” Hoss muttered, embarrassed.
“I know,” Ben replied and
they smiled briefly at each other.
As they neared the livery,
they slowed and crept up quietly, but there was no one on watch. They eased to
the front and Hoss put his hand on the door. They both had their guns drawn.
For a moment, their eyes met and then Ben nodded.
As he jumped in through the
door, Ben saw Bryant’s hands on the box that Joe was standing on. He didn’t
hesitate; he simply fired. The bullet caught the fat man in the side and he
staggered back, his hand going to the wound in his side.
But it wasn’t enough to
stop him. Grimly, Bryant reached for the box again. Ben fired again. The bullet
caught Bryant in the chest. He staggered back a step and looked surprised.
“He’s going to hang, Ben,” he croaked.
“No,” Ben replied. He kept
his gun raised, ready to fire once more, but Bryant was finished. He sat down
suddenly in the straw.
“My town,” Bryant panted
and collapsed backwards. His chest heaved for a moment, then
Ben clearly heard the death rattle in his throat.
Only then did Ben become
aware that Hoss was standing on a chair, holding Joe in both hands. “Pa,
quick,” he called and Ben hurried over, reaching for his knife as he did so.
It only took them seconds to free Joe from his bonds. He looked dreadful,
his face pale, his clothing torn and bloodstained. He appeared to have fainted.
Ben held him close while Hoss cut the ropes that had kept him captive. “Joe,
can you hear me?” Ben asked. “Joe?”
“He’s bleedin’, Pa,” Hoss
commented, drawing back the torn edges of Joe’s shirt to look at the deep knife
would on the back of his shoulder.
“We need to get him to a
doctor,” Ben replied. He slid off his sheepskin coat and wrapped it around Joe.
He tried hard not to touch the wound on Joe’s back, but his hand brushed over
it and Joe groaned. “I’m sorry, Joe,” Ben whispered, hoisting his son into his
arms.
“He won’t … give in,” Joe
panted, his eyes still tightly closed. Ben raised his eyes to look at Hoss.
“Joe?” Ben probed. “Joe,
its Pa, can you hear me?”
“Pa?” Joe murmured. His
eyelids cracked open and Joe looked blearily at the face above him. He
swallowed. “
“I’ll get him to the doc,”
Ben whispered to Hoss. “You go and get Adam.”
“Okay, Pa,” Hoss agreed. He
gestured to Bryant. “He’s dead,
“Good,” Ben replied and
carried his precious burden out of the old livery stable.
***************************
Several times on the way to
the doctor’s office, Joe roused slightly, opening his eyes and looking at Ben’s
face as though he could hardly believe what he was seeing. A few times he
groaned. Ben soothed him, crooning meaningless sounds to comfort his injured
son. The journey seemed endless, yet Ben delighted in the solid feel of his
son’s body in his arms. Joe was safe!
“The wound is deep,” Paul
Martin told Ben, leaning over Joe. “I’ll need to take stitches in it.” He felt
Joe’s ribs once more and Joe winced miserably. “And it feels like Joe might
have some broken ribs here, too.” He sighed. “Joe’s had a good beating, that’s
for sure. These knife cuts on his shoulders are superficial, luckily. I’ll
clean up and bandage his wrists. He’ll be weak from blood loss for a while, but
Joe has been incredibly lucky.”
“I know,” Ben replied,
hoarsely. He glanced at Adam and Hoss who stood near by. They looked as
relieved as he felt. He wondered if they knew how close he had come to letting
Farmer Perkins go. How he had agonised over his decision to go ahead, despite
Joe’s captivity and danger. Would Joe understand what he had
done and why? Ben didn’t know the answer to that one yet and wouldn’t
until Joe was feeling a bit better.
It didn’t take so very long
to get Joe patched up and he fell into a deep sleep, aided by the pain
medication that Paul had given him. Seeing that Joe was in good hands, Adam
went back to the jail, for Biggs would be some time before he was back on duty
and someone had to be around, just in case. Hoss fell asleep in a chair, worn
out by the night’s events.
Ben was dog tired, but he
couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t be able to rest properly until he was sure that Joe
knew why his life had been left on the line. He had underestimated Bryant’s
ruthlessness and that mistake had almost cost his son his life. Ben dropped his
head into his hands and wept silent tears of remorse.
The release of tension must
have lulled him into sleep, Ben realised as he dragged his eyes open later. He
blinked and then realised that he had heard Joe say his name. He moved quickly
so that he was sitting in his son’s field of vision. “How do you feel, Joe?” he
asked.
“Thirsty,” Joe replied. Ben
took the hint at once, supporting Joe’s head so he could sip the water. With a
sigh, Joe lay back down again. “What happened?” he asked,
his voice stronger now.
“What do you remember?” Ben
enquired.
“I remember McNeill being
sent to go and see what was happening at the jail,” Joe answered. “Then Bryant
put me on the boxes and put the noose around my neck.” Joe’s voice shook
slightly on the last few words. “Then…” Joe swallowed and looked embarrassed.
“Then, I think I must have fainted.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me,
Joe,” Ben soothed. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He smiled and Joe smiled back.
“Hoss and I were coming to look for you. We met McNeill and Hoss made him tell
us where you were. We arrived just before Bryant had the chance to – do
anything and I shot him. Hoss caught you and we brought you here.”
“Did you hang Perkins?” Joe
asked.
This was the moment, Ben
thought. This could be the moment when he lost his son. Bracing himself as best
he could, Ben nodded. “Yes,” he said, simply.
“I knew you would,” Joe
replied and the satisfaction in his voice caught Ben by surprise. “I told
Bryant that you would and he didn’t believe me.”
“Joe, I didn’t want to lose
you,” Ben explained, not sure whether to believe Joe’s satisfaction. “But I
couldn’t back down on this.”
The gentle fingers on his
lips caught Ben by surprise. “Pa, you don’t need to tell me,” Joe assured him.
“I knew you had to do it. I knew.” Joe smiled, not telling Ben that he wasn’t
sure that he himself could have stuck to his guns if it had been the other way
round and Ben had been the one facing a noose. He pushed the thought from his
mind, deciding that nobody could make that kind of decision without being in
the situation and Joe would just as soon never face that choice. “Did you say
you shot Bryant?” Joe was beginning to feel sleepy again. He was surprised to
see that it was daylight outside. It felt like the middle of the night.
“Yes, he’s dead,” Ben
replied. “He won’t hurt anyone again.”
“I’m not sorry,” Joe said,
defiantly, waiting to see if Ben was shocked.
“Neither am I,” Ben agreed,
although that wasn’t entirely true. He was sorry that he had been forced to
kill another human being, but he wasn’t sorry that Bryant was dead. It seemed
like a contradiction to Ben, but he didn’t quite know how to sort out his
feelings, so he didn’t try.
“When can I go home?” Joe
asked and yawned. He winced as the jaw-cracker pulled at his split lip.
“Later,” Ben replied,
smiling. “Just sleep now, Joe.”
“The town’s safe now, Pa,
isn’t it?” Joe murmured, his eyes dipping closed.
“Yes, it’s safe,” Ben
agreed. He sat holding Joe’s hand until his son was deep in sleep, then he rose
and went to the window.
Gazing into the bright
sunlight, Ben gave thanks that this day had turned out so differently than he
had expected. Life seemed to have a sharper clarity than usual. Death had come,
but not to his family. For them, death withheld her hand…
The End