Lost Son
“Hold the rein tighter, Joe!” shouted Adam Cartwright from his perch atop
the corral fence. “You’ll never keep her head up that way!”
Joe
Cartwright ignored his brother’s advice as he eased himself onto the saddle of
the horse being held tightly by two other riders. The mare’s eyes were wide
with fright, and her body quivered when she felt the unfamiliar weight on the
saddle.
“Shorten
the rein,” called Adam again as he watched his brother catch the stirrups of
the saddle with his feet.
Joe
continued to ignore his brother’s shouts. He settled himself on the saddle and
gripped tightly the rope which was serving as a rein.
“Let
her go,” he said the riders with a brief nod.
The
riders on either side of the horse released their hold on the animal’s halter.
Immediately, the mare began to buck, trying to throw the
weight from her back. Joe gripped the saddle tightly with his legs
After
two bucks in a standing the position, the mare decided to try a new tactic to
rid herself of the unwanted burden. She started forward, taking a step, and then
began bucking again. The weight on her back stayed firmly attached. The mare
began to run, throwing her back legs into the air at every few steps, hoping
that one of these bucks would toss the weight from her back.
Joe
quickly found the rhythm of the mare’s bucking and began shifting his weight
slightly in anticipation of each move the horse was
The
mare soon tired of the bucking and gradually realized the weight on her back
wasn’t going away. She gave a few more kicks into the air but they were more
of a feeble protest than bucks. Soon she simply began to run around the corral.
She felt the bit in her mouth pulling her slightly to the right and followed the
command reluctantly.
She
ran toward the center of the corral, and slowed when she saw another horse and
rider approaching. The rider grabbed the halter and the mare pulled herself to a
stop.
Joe
slid off the saddle and onto the ground. He watched for a moment as the mare was
led away, then turned to walk toward the fence where Adam was sitting. Joe
rotated his left shoulder slightly as he approached the fence.
“Good
ride, Joe,” said Hoss Cartwright. Hoss was leaning against the fence post near
the board on which his older brother was sitting. Joe smiled briefly in
acknowledgment.
“You
should have kept the rein shorter,” commented Adam from the fence. “That way
she couldn’t have lowered her head. She wouldn’t have jerked your arm as
much, and she couldn’t have bucked so hard.
Joe
looked up at his brother. “I know how to break a horse, Adam,” he said
tersely.
“Just
giving a little advice,” replied Adam.
“Yeah,
well, thanks for the advice,” said Joe, “but I don’t need it. I know what
I’m doing.”
Adam
shrugged. “It’s your body. If you want to be stiff and sore, that’s your
decision. I was just trying to keep you in one piece.”
Joe
glared at Adam. “Look, Adam, I’ve been breaking horses almost since I could
walk. I know keeping the rein short keeps a horse’s head up. But I also know
if you keep it too tight, you can ruin a horse. That mare had a real soft mouth.
I didn’t want to take the chance on ruining it.”
“Don’t
you think it’s better to take a chance on ruining the horse than getting
yourself jerked around and maybe thrown?” suggested Adam.
“No,
I don’t,” replied Joe angrily. “I’d rather give a horse a little more
rein and try to stay with her.” Joe’s eyes narrowed. “You know, Adam,
sometimes if you can keep a rein too tight. Then it doesn’t control a
horse. It only makes the horse work harder to get a little freedom.”
Adam
looked back at Joe with a steady gaze. “Some animals need a tight rein than
others.”
Joe’s
reply was cut short by a shout from across the corral. Joe turned to look at the
cowboy who called his name.
“What
did you say?” shouted Joe.
“I
said, do you want to try that black?” yelled the cowboy. He was sitting on top
of the fence on the other side of the corral. Behind him, six or seven horses
were milling around in a small enclosure. The two riders sat on their horses in
the middle of the corral, watching expectantly.
“No,
that’s enough for today,” shouted Adam before Joe had a chance to answer.
Joe
spun back to face his brother. “Don’t you think that’s my decision?”
said Joe angrily.
“Look,
Joe,” said Adam in a reasonable voice. “You’ve ridden six horses already
today. There’s no sense in overdoing things.”
“Joe,
it’s getting on toward supper time,” added Hoss hastily. “Why don’t we
call it a day?”
Joe
didn’t answer for a minute, but his mood lightened at the sound of Hoss’
voice. Joe knew he was tired and probably irritable as a result. Adam always
seemed to know how to rub Joe the wrong way,
Joe
turned to Hoss. “How come you always know when it’s time to eat?” he asked
with a smile.
“Just
a natural gift, I guess,” replied Hoss with a grin. He glanced up at Adam.
“You’ve a gift at breaking horses, and I have a gift at knowing when it’s
time to eat.”
Adam
slid off the fence and stood next to his brothers. “Dinner sounds like a good
idea,” he said. Adam began walking across the corral, shouting to the other
men that their work was over for the day.
Joe
watched Adam, then shook his head. “Just once I’d like to do something
without him telling me how I’m doing it wrong,” muttered Joe.
“Aw,
Joe, he don’t mean anything by it,” said Hoss in a conciliatory tone. “You
know Adam. He’s just naturally got to butt into things and tell people what to
do.”
Joe
gave Hoss a wry grin. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “Guess that’s Adam’s
gift. Being able to tell everyone else what to do.”
Hoss
laughed and clapped his brother lightly on the back. “C’mon,” he said.
“Let’s go eat.”
*************
Conversation
around the dinner table at the Ponderosa ranch house covered the usual topics of
the day’s activities and ranch chores. Joe had shaken off his earlier
irritation at his brother Adam. A good washing and a brief nap had restored his
good humor by the time he had come down for supper.
“Pa,
I think I found three good horses for Mr. Ferguson over in Twin Pines,” said
Joe when there was a lull in the conversation.
“Which
three?” asked Adam curiously.
“The
sorrel, the roan and that mare I broke today,” replied Joe.
Adam
cocked his head. “I don’t know about that mare. She seemed kind of skittish.
Ferguson wants some stock he can count on for work around the ranch. I don’t
know if that mare would be right for that.”
Joe
felt his irritation at his older brother returning. “I rode the mare, Adam,
not you,” he said in an annoyed voice. “She needs a little work, but she’s
a good animal.”
Ben
Cartwright could see a dispute starting to broil between his two sons. He
decided to intervene before things got out of hand. “Why don’t I take a look
at those horses tomorrow?” he suggested. “See if they’re what Ferguson is
looking for.”
“Fine,”
said Joe in a flat voice. He looked at Adam. “I’m sure you’ll be surprised
to find that I can actually judge horses.”
“Hey,
Joe, you want to play some checkers after dinner?” asked Hoss, also trying to
diffuse the tension around the table.
A
peculiar look flashed across Joe’s face. He looked down at his plate for a
minute as if trying to decide something. Then he looked up at Hoss.
“No,
I can’t,” said Joe with a shake of his head. “I have to go out for a
little while tonight.”
Joe
shrugged. “Just something I have to take care of.”
“Sounds
kind of mysterious,”’ said Adam, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah,
Joe, what are you up to?” asked Hoss.
Joe’s
eyes flashed with irritation. “That’s my business,” he said curtly to Hoss.
Joe turned to Ben. “Is it all right with you if I go out?” he asked.
Ben
saw the challenging look on Joe’s face. He decided now was not the time to ask
his youngest son why he was going out. After all, Joe was 22, no longer a child.
He didn’t need to account to his father for his every move, even though
Ben’s curiosity was piqued. But Ben knew now was not the time to press the
issue with Joe.
“Of
course,” replied Ben with a nod. “Just be sure you’re home at a reasonable
hour. We have a full day of work tomorrow.”
Joe
smiled briefly at Ben’s reminder. His father had been giving him the same
instructions for as long as he could remember. “Don’t worry, “ Joe assured
Ben. “I won’t be gone long.”
“Be
careful,” said Ben, adding another often repeated instruction.
“I
will,” said Joe with a nod, barely hearing the words said to him a hundred
times. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and threw the cloth on the table.
“See you later, Pa,” he said, pointedly ignoring his brothers.
Joe
pushed back the chair from the table and walked from the dining room. A minute
later, the men around the table heard the front door open and close.
“Where
do you suppose he’s going?” asked Hoss. “That’s the third night this
week he’s been out.”
“Couldn’t
be a girl,” commented Adam. “He didn’t spend his usual hour primping like
he generally does when he’s seeing someone.”
“Now
that’s enough, boys,” said Ben in mild rebuke. “If Joe doesn’t want to
tell us where he’s going, that’s his business.”
“Yeah,
but Pa, you have to admit he’s acting kind of mysterious,” said Hoss.
“When
Joe doesn’t want to talk about what he’s doing, that usually means he’s up
to something,” added Adam. “Something that’s going to mean trouble.”
“We
don’t know that,” said Ben. “He could be doing something perfectly
innocent.” But a concerned look
crossed Ben’s face, belying his words.
“Yeah,
like what?” asked Hoss.
“I
don’t know,” admitted Ben. The frown of concern on his face deepened.
“Why
don’t Hoss and I ride out after him,” suggested Adam. “Just to see what
he’s up to.”
Ben
hesitated, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think you should do that. Joe
can look after himself.”
“Pa,
you know Joe,” pressed Hoss. “He gets involved in things and sometimes he
gets in over his head.”
“We’ll
stay way behind him,” promised Adam. “He won’t even see us.”
“I
don’t know, Adam,” said Ben, his voice full of doubt. “I don’t like the
idea of Joe thinking we’re checking up on him.”
“Pa,
we’re just going to make sure Joe ain’t involved in something he can’t
handle, that’s all,” said Hoss.
“It
won’t hurt just to find out what he’s up to,” said Adam. “We might be
able to keep him from doing something he would regret.”
“All
right,” said Ben reluctantly. “But I want your word that all you are going
to do is follow him. I want you to promise you won’t interfere in…in
whatever he’s doing.”
“We
won’t,” said Adam, pushing back from the table. “We’re just going to
make sure Joe doesn’t need protection.”
“Protection?”
said Ben in surprise. “From whom?”
“From
himself,” replied Adam.
***************
Adam
and Hoss were buckling on their holsters as they crossed the yard from the house
to the barn. Now that they had decided to go after Joe, they both realized that
trying to find their youngest brother could be a challenge.
“Hey,
Hank,” Adam called to one of the hands as he and Hoss neared the barn. “Do
you know which way Joe went when he left?”
“Yeah,
he was heading up to Rim Rock Canyon,” replied the hand.
“How
do you know that?” asked Hoss in surprise.
“Because
he told me,” snorted Hank.
“He
just told you?” said Adam, his surprise equal to Hoss’.
“Well,
not exactly,” admitted Hank. “I asked him if he was going near Virginia City
‘cause I needed some tobacco. He said no, he was going to Rim Rock Canyon.”
Hank looked at the two men curiously.
“Why
do you want to know where Joe went?”
“We,
um, we just need to find him, “ said Adam vaguely. “Do us a favor and saddle
our horses for us?”
Hank
nodded briefly, and walked into the barn.
“Rim
Rock Canyon? What do you suppose he’s doing up there?” asked Hoss.
“I
don’t know,” said Adam with a shake of his head. “But whatever our little
brother is involved in, I don’t think it’s planning a Sunday social.”
*************
Adam
and Hoss had no trouble picking up Joe’s trail as they approached Rim Rock
Canyon. Daylight lingered until almost nine in the early summer, and Adam had
guessed it was only a little after seven when they had left the Ponderosa. The
sun was bright enough for the two Cartwrights to see the tracks a horse had made
through the tall grass.
As
they neared the canyon, Adam put up his hand to halt his brother.
Hoss
looked around. “I bet he’s heading for Piaute Rock,” he said. “If he was
meeting somebody, that’s the easiest place to find around here.”
“You’re
probably right,” agreed Adam. “Let’s leave the horses a little way off
from Piaute Rock and go the rest of the way on foot. If we keep to the brush,
Joe won’t see us.”
A
troubled look crossed Hoss’ face. “Adam, you sure we’re doing the right
thing? It don’t feel right sneaking after Joe like this.”
“We’re
only making sure he’s not getting himself into some kind of trouble,” Adam
replied patiently. “It’s for his own good.”
“Yeah,
I suppose,” said Hoss. “I just hope Joe feels that way.”
Adam
and Hoss left their horses about twenty yards from Piaute Rock, and walked as
quietly as possible through the trees and bushes toward the landmark. Hoss was
beginning to think that Joe was someplace else when Adam suddenly grabbed his
arm and pulled him down. Hoss looked at Adam in surprise and started to say
something, but Adam quickly put his finger to his lips. Then Adam pointed
through the brush.
Joe
was sitting at the base of a tall rock decorated with drawings and figures. His
horse was tied to a bush a few feet away. Joe was patiently whittling on a stick
as he obviously waited for someone.
Adam
and Hoss crept through the brush toward Piaute Rock. They stopped a few feet
away from the tall and crouched down to watch and listen. They didn’t have to
wait long. The sound of a horse approaching drew both their attention and
Joe’s.
Joe
threw away the stick he was whittling as he saw the rider. He got to his feet
and closed his pocket knife as the rider approaching.
“You
finally got here,” said Joe to the rider as he stuck the knife in the pocket
of his jacket. “I thought maybe you weren’t coming.”
“That’s
Pete Gordon,” whispered Hoss.
“Shhhh,”
cautioned Adam.
“I’m
sorry, Joe,” said Pete in an apologetic voice as he pulled his horse to a
stop. “I got hung up.” He shook his head. “This whole thing is getting a
lot more complicated than I thought.”
Joe
looked up to the rider from the ground. “You’re telling me!” said Joe in
an exasperated voice. “When I agreed to help, I didn’t think I was going to
get sucked in this deep.”
“I
know, Joe, I know,” said Pete. He let out a sigh. “I thought this was going
to be simple but it’s not.”
“How
much longer is this going to take?” asked Joe. “My Pa is starting to ask
where I’m going after dinner.”
“You
didn’t tell him?” said Pete in alarm.
“No,
I didn’t,” Joe assured the man on the horse. “I haven’t said anything to
anybody about this.” Joe cocked his head. “So how much longer?”
“Tonight
should be the last night,” promised Pete. “After tonight, I can put my plan
into action.”
Joe
shook his head. “You know I still think you’re going about this all wrong.
There’s a whole lot easier way to get cattle.”
“You’re
still going to help me, aren’t you?” asked Pete in alarm. “I need you,
Joe. I can’t tell one cow from another. I need you to tell me which ones to
take.”
“Yeah,
I’ll help you, like I said,” replied Joe with a sigh. “Just don’t let
anyone know I was in on this.”
“Don’t
worry,” Pete assured him. “I’m not going to tell anyone.” Pete looked at
Joe, his gratitude evident on his face. “Joe, I owe you for this. I really
do.”
Joe
shrugged, then grinned. “Just don’t ask me to help you change those
brands.” With a nod, he walked over and untied his horse, then vaulted into
the saddle. “Come on,” said Joe. “We only have an hour or so of daylight
left. Let’s go look at some cattle.” Joe gave his horse a light kick and
started to ride off. Pete turned his horse and followed
Adam
and Hoss stood as two riders rode off. Bushing aside the brush, the two walked
toward Piaute Rock.
“What
do you think they’re up to, Adam?” asked Hoss in a puzzled voice.
“I
don’t know for sure,” replied Adam grimly, “but it sounded an awful lot
like Joe was scouting some cattle for Pete to rustle.”
“Aw,
Adam, Joe wouldn’t do anything like that,” said Hoss. A flicker of doubt
crossed his face. “Would he?”
“Joe
and Pete have been friends for a long time,” said Adam. “And I know Pete is
unhappy with working in the office at the Lucky Dollar mine. Rustling some
cattle would be a good way for Pete to make some money.”
“But
Joe wouldn’t help him do anything illegal?” protested Hoss.
“I
wouldn’t have thought so,” said Adam. “But Pete doesn’t have a ranch. If
he isn’t thinking about rustling, why does he want Joe to help him pick out
cattle?”
“I
don’t know,” admitted Hoss. He looked at Adam with a troubled face. “What
do you want to do? Follow them?”
“No,”
replied Adam with a shake of his head. “By the time we get our horses and try
to find their trail, it’ll be getting dark. Besides, it didn’t sound like
anything was going to happen tonight. I think the best thing to do is go back to
the ranch and tell Pa what we heard. Maybe he can talk some sense into Joe.”
“I
hope so,” said Hoss. The big man shook his head. “This is going to break
Pa’s heart when we tell him.”
***************
Joe
was surprised to see three grim-faced men sitting by the fireplace as he walked
in the front door of the Ponderosa. He couldn’t imagine what had happened to
cause such somber looks on his father and brothers’ faces.
“What’s
wrong?” asked Joe as he shut the door behind him. He quickly pulled his hat
off his head and stuck it on the peg next to the door.
“Joseph,
we need to talk,” said Ben from his red leather chair near the fireplace.
“Sure,”
said Joe, as he untied his holster from his leg and unbuckled the gun belt from
around his hips. He threw the gunbelt on the top of the bureau near the door.
“What’s
wrong?” said Joe again as he crossed the room. A feeling of alarm was growing
in him as he studied the grim faces around the room.
“Sit
down, Joseph,” said Ben in a serious voice.
Joe
slid down on the sofa across from the fireplace and looked around the room. Adam
was sitting in the blue chair near the staircase and Hoss was perched on the
ledge in front of the fireplace. Adam’s face was wrinkled into a frown. Hoss
simply looked sad.
Joe
turned to his father with an expectant look. “Pa, what’s going on?” he
asked, his alarm growing.
“Joe,”
started Ben. Then he hesitated. He had been anxious to talk to his youngest son,
but now that Joe was here, Ben wasn’t sure what to say. When Hoss and Adam had
told him about the overheard conversation, Ben had been angry at first. Then his
emotions had changed to disappointment and fear. Now, looking at Joe, he
didn’t know what he felt. Joe’s eyes were wide with both innocence and
concern.
“Joseph,”
said Ben again. “I know how you feel about helping a friend, but it’s wrong
to get involved in rustling.”
“Rustling?”
said Joe in a puzzled voice. “What are you talking about?”
“Joe,
Hoss and I followed you up to Rim Rock Canyon,” said Adam in a serious voice.
“We heard what you and Pete Gordon said.”
“We
heard Pete asking you to scout some cattle for him to rustle,” added Hoss. He
shook his head. “Joe, that’s plain wrong.”
Joe
looked around the room in astonishment. He was torn between a desire to burst
into laughter and a need to give into the anger he felt growing in him. Joe
finally gave into the former and began to laugh.
“I
don’t see anything funny about this situation, young man, “ said Ben sternly
as Joe began to cackle.
“I
do, Pa,” said Joe as he shook with laughter.
Ben
looked at Adam and Hoss. They were as stunned by Joe’s reaction as their
father.
“I’m
sorry, Pa,” said Joe as he took a deep breath and tried to stop laughing. Joe
wiped his eyes. “It’s just so….” Joe shook his head and
“What?”
said Ben in astonishment.
“Pete’s
uncle back East died and left him $10,000,” explained Joe. “He’s going to
buy the old Henderson place and stock it with cattle. He asked me to look at
some cattle from a couple of the herds he’s thinking about buying to make sure
he was getting some good stock.”
“Why
all the secrecy?” asked Adam suspiciously.
“That
was Pete’s idea,” answered Joe. “Most people know that the only thing Pete
knows about cattle is which end has the horns. He was afraid if people knew he
was looking to buy cattle, they’d tried to pass their worst cows onto him. So
he got it into his head to keep this a secret until he and I could look at the
herds. I thought it was only going to take a day or two, but Pete ended up
dragging me to every herd on the Comstock.”
“Why
didn’t he just buy some cattle from us?” asked Hoss. “He should know we
wouldn’t cheat him.”
“I
tried to tell him that,” said Joe with a shake of his head. “But he said he
didn’t want to trade on our friendship. He was afraid Pa would sell him stock
at a low price because we’re friends. He said he didn’t want to start out on
his new ranch feeling that he owed somebody something.”
“Then
it was all a misunderstanding,” said Adam with a shake of his head.
“We
should have known you wouldn’t have gotten involved in something like
rustling,” agreed Hoss.
As
Hoss’ words sunk in, the situation was suddenly no longer funny to Joe. His
merriment turned to anger, with a dose of hurt added. Joe found it especially
painful that Hoss had doubted him. “Yeah,
you should have,” Joe said coldly. He gave his brothers a hard look. “And
what were you doing following me anyway?”
“We
were just worried about you,” explained Adam, looking uncomfortable.
“You
were acting so funny, well, we just thought maybe you’d gotten yourself
involved in something you couldn’t handle,” said Hoss. “We told Pa that
maybe we just ought to make sure you were all right.”
Joe
turned to Ben. “You knew they were going to follow me?”
Ben
looked away for a moment, then turned to meet Joe’s accusing eyes. “Yes, yes
I did,” he admitted.
Joe
stared at Ben, then turned to look at Adam and Hoss. “Well, thank you,” he
said in a voice cold with fury. “Thank you all for showing me how much you
trust me.”
“Ah,
Joe, it ain’t that we don’t trust you…” said Hoss.
“No?”
interrupted Joe. “Then explain why you thought you had to follow me and why
you thought I’d do something as stupid as getting involved in rustling.”
“You’ve
been known to go off half-cocked on occasion,” said Adam, shifting
uncomfortably in his chair. He
looked at Hoss for help. Getting none, Adam tried to explain. “We were just
trying to help,” he finished lamely.
“Joe,
I’m sorry,” added Ben. “We should have never interfered. We should have
known better.”
Joe
stood and looked at his father in anger. “You’re right. You should have.”
Joe turned on his heel and walked toward the stairs.
“Joe,
wait,” Ben called after his son. “Joe!”
Joe
ignored the calls. He climbed the stairs without a backward glance at the three
shamefaced men watching him.
************
Ben,
Adam, and Hoss had finished their breakfast by the time Joe slid in to his chair
the next morning. No one said a word as Joe filled his cup with coffee and then
spooned some eggs onto his plate.
“Good
morning, Joseph,” said Ben quietly, finally ending the awkward silence.
“Good
morning,” replied Joe briefly.
The
silence descended again as Joe began to fork pieces of egg into his mouth. Ben
looked at Hoss, who simply stared at Joe, and then at Adam. Adam shrugged.
“Joe,
about last night,” said Ben in uncomfortable
voice. “We really are sorry.”
Joe
looked up at his father. “You shouldn’t have sent Adam and Hoss to spy on
me.”
“I
didn’t send your brothers to spy on you,” said Ben. “They were just trying
to watch over you.”
Joe
looked down at his plate. “You know, Pa, I think that’s worse,” said Joe
in a hurt voice. He looked up again, his eyes full of pain. “it’s worse
knowing that you don’t trust my
judgment.”
“Joe,
that’s not true,” protested Ben. “I do trust your judgment. Look at all
the times I’ve asked you to take of business for the ranch. And even the ranch
itself.”
“No,
Pa,” replied Joe sadly. “You trust me to do a job after you’ve told me
exactly what to do. That’s not the same thing as letting me make my own
decisions.”
“I
know you are perfectly capable of making your own decisions,” said Ben.
“Yeah?”
said Joe skeptically. He looked around the table. “When was the last time I
did something when one of you didn’t second-guess me or check up on me?”
“It’s
just that we have more experience than you do,” said Adam.
“Experience?”
scoffed Joe. “Don’t you mean that you’re older than I am so that
automatically makes you wiser than me.”
“You
have to admit that you’ve done some crazy things, little brother,” said Hoss.
“Sure
I’ve made some mistakes,” answered Joe. “Everybody makes mistakes. Seems
to me that Pa always said making mistakes is how you learn.”
“I
did say that,” admitted Ben. “But there’s a difference between making
mistakes and making unwise choices. We’re just trying to help you make the
right choices.”
“And
there’s a difference between helping me and not trusting me,” snapped Joe,
his anger flaring.
“Trust
is a two way street,” said Adam. “If you had trusted us enough to tell us
what was going on, we would have never followed you last night.”
“I
promised Pete I wouldn’t say anything,” said Joe. “I didn’t think I
would have to break that promise. I didn’t think I had to explain every single
thing I do to my family.”
“Of
course you don’t,” said Ben in a soothing voice. “But at the same time,
you can’t blame us for being concerned about you. Especially when you act so
secretive.”
“We
didn’t know what was going on, Joe,” said Hoss. “That’s what had us
worried.”
“Maybe
I overdid it a bit. But you still should have trusted me,” insisted Joe.
“We
were only trying to protect you, Joe,” answered Ben.
“Protect
me? Like some little kid?” Joe shook his head. “Well, I’m not
Joe
stood and started to walk from the table. He stopped and turned abruptly.
“You know, Pa, you’ve always said that a tree needs some room if
it’s going to grow. Maybe that’s what I need. Some room to grow.”
Ben
watched in stunned silence as Joe walked away from the table.
“Aw,
Pa, you know Joe,” said Hoss. “He gets mad but he cools down after he’s
had some time to think things through.”
“He
just needs some time,” agreed Adam. “He’ll get over it.
“Will
he?” asked Ben. “This wasn’t some prank, something that he can shrug off.
I think Joe is deeply hurt by what happened. He doesn’t think we trust him.”
Adam
glanced at Hoss, then back to his father. “What can we do about it?” he
asked.
“I
don’t know, Adam,” replied Ben with a frown. “I just don’t know.”
****************
Ben
walked slowly up to the corral that was being used to break horses. He could see
Joe in the middle of the corral, getting ready to mount a horse that was pawing
the ground nervously. Ben came
closer and leaned against the fence to watch.
Ben
had spent the morning staring into the fireplace, deep in thought. Adam and Hoss
had left the house after breakfast, wisely deciding to handle some chores far
from any place where Joe might be. They both agreed that the last people Joe
wanted to see that morning was his brothers.
When
Ben had finally decided to go looking for Joe, he was surprised when one of the
hands told him Joe had been down at the breaking corral all morning, finishing
work on the horses. Ben had had the vague idea that Joe would have run off
someplace, perhaps to Virginia City or to a friend, to nurse his wounds. Ben
hadn’t expected his volatile son would vent his anger by going straight to
work.
Ben
watched as Joe rode the bucking horse around the corral. The horse jerked Joe
forward in the saddle a couple of times but then Joe found the rhythm of the
horse’s movements. No matter how hard the horse bucked and twisted, the animal
couldn’t rid itself of its rider. Joe stayed on the horse’s back as if glued
to the saddle. After a few minutes, the horse gave in to the inevitable and
stopped bucking. Joe began to guide the horse around the corral.
“Nice
ride!” a voice called out next to Ben. Ben turned to look and saw Hank, one of
the hands, leaning next to him against the fence.
“He
did a good job,” agreed Ben.
“He
sure did,” said Hank. Hank shook his head. “You know, Mr. Cartwright, I’ve
seen a lot of bronc riders in my time. Joe’s good at it, real good. Maybe the
best I’ve seen.”
Ben’s
eye widen as he faced yet another unknown fact about his son. Ben hadn’t
watched or thought about Joe breaking horses in quite awhile. He just assumed
Joe knew how to do it. He hadn’t thought about how good Joe might have become
at taming horses.
A
troubled look crossed Ben’s face as he watched Joe pull the horse to a stop
and dismount. When had he lost track of his son, he wondered. When had he
stopped thinking of Joe as an individual, a son to be nourished and cherished?
When had he begun taking Joe for granted?
Joe
watched the horse being led away, absent-mindedly swiping the dust from the
stiff leather chaps that protected his legs. He turned to walk across the corral
and stopped when he saw his father leaning against the fence watching him. Joe
tugged nervously at the gloves on his hands then started forward.
“Good
ride, son,” said Ben as Joe came up to the fence.
“Thanks,”
said Joe shortly.
Ben
chewed his lip for a moment, then said. “Could we talk?”
“Sure,”
answered Joe in a cautious voice.
Ben
glanced at Hank standing next to him, then cocked his head to the right. “Why
don’t we go over here.” Ben
walked a few feet away from Hank and waited.
Joe
climbed over the fence and jumped to the ground. He followed Ben, rubbing his
hands nervously on his thighs as he walked.
Ben
looked Joe straight in the eyes as his son stopped next to him.
“Joe,
I’m sorry about what happened last night,” he said slowly. “But I’m even
more sorry about what you said at breakfast this morning.”
Joe
looked away, feeling embarrassed. He felt his complaints had been valid, but he
hadn’t meant to be so strident when voicing them.
“Pa,
I didn’t mean to…” started Joe.
“Let
me finish,” interrupted Ben. “Joe, being a parent is hard. It’s probably
the toughest job in the world. You have to find that middle ground between
guiding and protecting your children and giving
them the freedom to lead their own lives. It’s not easy. There’s no
sign posts to tell a parent when they’ve strayed off that middle ground.
Somehow, somewhere, I’ve strayed over the line. And I’m sorry.”
Joe
looked up at his father. “Pa, I know you were only trying to do what you
thought was best. But sometimes, you have to let me decide what’s best for
me.”
“I
know that, son,” said Ben. He sighed. “Life can be a long and treacherous
road. I just worry that somewhere along the way, one of my sons will get lost
along that road.”
“But
it’s a road I have to walk myself,” said Joe in a serious tone, continuing
the analogy. “You can’t do it for me.”
“I
know that, too,” agreed Ben. “It’s
just hard for me to remember you
“Pa,
I’m not ten years old any more,” commented Joe wryly.
Ben
sighed. “Sometimes, I wish you were only ten again. Things seemed a lot less
complicated when you were younger.”
Joe
grinned. “Yeah, but then you’d be yelling at me for skipping school or not
doing my chores. I’m no angel, Pa. I’ve given you reason
to worry over the years.”
“To
worry, yes,” said Ben with a nod. “But never a reason not to trust you. I do
trust Joe. I only hope you’ll believe that.”
Joe
studied the ground, not sure how to answer. He wanted to believe what his father
had said, but the thought of being followed last night still rankled. Joe
cleared his throat. “Those three horses for Ferguson,” he said changing the
subject, “you want to take a look at them?”
“I’m
sure the three you picked out are fine,” said Ben.
Joe
looked up and gave his father a wry grin. “Are you sure you don’t want to
take a look at them?”
“No,
no, I’m sure they’re fine,” said Ben.
“Well,
why don’t I show them to you any way,” said Joe, his grin widening. “I
think it would make both of us feel better.”
A
thought struck Ben. “Joe, why don’t you plan to deliver those horses to
Ferguson,” suggested Ben. “A little time away from each other might be a
good idea – for all of us.”
Joe
looked away for a minute then nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Right now, I
think I could use a little time away. Especially from Adam and Hoss.”
“Your
brothers were only trying to help, Joe,” said Ben in a mild tone.
“Yeah,
well, I don’t need their help,” said Joe, his irritation returning.
Ben
put his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Everyone needs help sometimes, Joe,” he
said.
“I
just wish you hadn’t felt like you had to send Adam and Hoss after me,” said
Joe, his irritation growing.
Ben
looked away, trying to decide what to say. “To be honest, it was Adam and
Hoss’ idea to go after you,” Ben said slowly.
“That
figures,” said Joe, his irritation turning into anger.
“But
I agreed to the idea,” said Ben, trying to mollify Joe. “I’m just as much
to blame. I should have known better.”
“Pa,
I can understand you worrying,” said Joe. “But Adam and Hoss, well, they
just plain like butting their nose into my business.”
“Joe…”started
Ben.
“You
know it’s true, Pa,” said Joe, his voice full of anger. “To them, I’m
just a kid. I don’t know anything. Well, I’m getting tired of them treating
me like I don’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain.”
Ben
could see the stubborn look returning to Joe’s face, and felt the ground he
had gained in rebuilding things with Joe was starting to slip away again. “You
take those horses to Ferguson, Joe.” he said quietly. “It will give us all a
little time to cool off and think about things.”
Joe
took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah, I think you’re right,
Pa,” he said. “Remember what I said this morning about needing some room.
Well, maybe that’s what I need. A little room.
*******************
Ten
days later, Joe was riding slowly through the mountains on his way back from
Twin Pines. He was in no hurry to get home. His Pa had told him to take as much
time as he needed to deliver those horses to Ferguson. Joe knew what he really
meant was to take as much time as he needed to think through his relationship
with his father and brothers.
The
two days before Joe had left for Twin Pines were uncomfortable around the
Ponderosa. Adam and Hoss had been unfailing polite and considerate around Joe.
Joe, for his part, had remained cool toward his brothers. Ben had tried his best
to restore a sense of normalcy around the house, but hadn’t had much success.
It was a situation which they all found to be awkward. But none of them seemed
to know what to do to break through the barrier that the argument and Joe’s
hurt feelings had built.
Time
and distance from the Ponderosa had dissipated Joe’s anger but his anger had
been replaced with frustration. Why was it, Joe wondered, that it was only on
the Ponderosa as a child? When he was away from the ranch, people treated him as
the rational, competent person that he was. He had delivered the horses to
Ferguson and received the payment without any hitches. Ferguson had been pleased
with the horses Joe selected. The rancher hadn’t questioned him about his
choices. He had paid Joe the money and even bought Joe a beer in the saloon in
Twin Pines before Joe left. Not once had Ferguson seemed to think that Joe was
too young, too inexperienced to handle the transaction.
Joe
sighed as his sense of frustration mounted. He could understand his Pa fretting
over him – that’s what fathers did. But why couldn’t Adam and Hoss see him
as an equal? Why did they always treat him as incompetent child, someone who had
to be watched and checked on to make sure he did things right.
Maybe
he should just stay away from the ranch for a while, thought Joe. Maybe a few
months on his own would show his brothers that he could manage without their
constant supervision. Joe shook his head. The thought of being away from the
Ponderosa for that long was a troubling one. Despite his problems with Adam and
Hoss, the Ponderosa was home.
Joe
debated the issue with himself as he rode, coming to no conclusion. He chafed at
what he felt was unwarranted intrusion into his life by his father and brothers
but at the same time, he felt no great desire to leave his home. For one thing,
he didn’t know where he would go or what he would do. And Joe knew himself
well enough to know that, as much as he complained, he would miss the
companionship of his family.
Joe
pushed the thought of his family aside for awhile, and resolved to simply enjoy
the trip home. He had decided to travel through the mountains back to the
Ponderosa, taking the slower but more scenic route home. He enjoyed riding
through the lush growth of trees and flowers. The weather was pleasantly cool
and there was a scent of pine and honeysuckle in the air. A few birds twittered
in the trees but otherwise, the only sound Joe heard was the noise of his own
progress through the woods. Joe rode slowly, enjoying the peace and solitude of
his trip.
This
ride would be perfect, Joe thought, if only he hadn’t had to leave his pinto
behind. Cochise had a stone bruise, nothing serious but it prevented Joe from
riding his usual horse to Twin Pines. Instead, he was on a big roan. The horse
was comfortable and did what he told it, but Joe felt no connection with the
horse. It was just transportation.
A
small stream trickled along near the trail. Joe decided to stop and fill his
canteen. He drank from the cool, fresh water and filled the canteen to the brim.
Joe led his horse to the stream and watched as his horse drank its fill.
Joe
looked up abruptly as he heard an odd noise. He looked around, alert and
straining to hear the noise again. A
first, all he heard was the silence of the woods. But then he heard a branch
snap, and the thud of a hoof. His horse snickered, smelling another horse
nearby. There was no question another rider was coming up behind him.
Joe
wasn’t particularly alarmed. After all, there was no reason why another rider
shouldn’t follow the same route he was taking. But at the same time, he
decided to act cautiously. Few people traveled through the mountains; most
preferred the easier, more direct trails
Joe
led the roan away from the stream and into the brush, choosing an area where he
could see through the trees, but would be difficult to be seen by someone else.
Joe eased the loop off the hammer of his pistol in his holster, and pulled the
gun up slightly to make sure it would be easy to draw. Then he stood next to his
horse and patiently waited.
A
few minutes later, a rider walked his horse slowly through the natural path
between the trees. The rider was a big man, perhaps in his thirties, wearing a
checked shirt and black vest. He wore a black hat, and the dark shadow of a few
day’s growth of beard. Joe had a vague memory of seeing the man around Twin
Pines.
The
rider was looking to the ground as he rode, as if he were trying to follow some
tracks. He stopped his horse where Joe had pulled the roan to a stop and a
puzzled expression crossed his face. He looked around, finally turning toward
the brush where Joe was standing the in shadows.
“Looking
for something?” asked Joe from the trees.
The
rider looked startled at the voice and peered into the trees, finally spotting
Joe in the dim light. An attempt at a smile crossed the man’s face, but the
smile looked more like a wolf baring his teeth.
“Oh,
hi,” said the man. “You surprised me.”
“Why
were you following me?” asked Joe.
“I,
uh, I wasn’t following you,” replied the rider. “Just cutting over the
mountains.”
“Right,”
replied Joe in a voice that conveyed his disbelief. “That’s why you were
reading my tracks.”
“Well,
I was curious when I saw your trail,” replied the man. “Not many people come
up this way. I was just kind of amusing myself trying to following your
tracks.”
“Why
don’t you just amuse yourself by riding on,” suggested Joe.
“Sure,
friend,” replied the man. The man looked around. “You don’t mind if I
water my horse first, do you?”
Joe
did mind. Some instinct told him that this wasn’t a man to be trusted.
But Joe couldn’t think of an excuse not to let the rider water his
horse. “Go ahead,” said Joe. “Get some water and then move on.”
The
rider nodded and slowly dismounted, watching Joe cautiously as he landed on the
ground. He led his horse to the stream and watched as the animal drank. The
rider cupped some water into his own mouth.
Joe
led his horse a few steps forward, out of the brush. He wanted to be able to
keep his eye on the rider, and back near the trees, it was difficult to see the
man by the stream. Joe held the reins in his right hand, and kept his left hand
near the butt of his pistol.
“I
saw you around Twin Peaks, didn’t I?” said the rider as he lead his horse
back from the stream. “You’re the kid who sold those horses to Ferguson,
aren’t you.”
“Yeah,”
replied Joe shortly. “What’s it to you?”
“Nothing,”
said the man with a shrug. “Just making conversation. Those were nice horses
you sold to Ferguson. Must have got a nice price for them.”
“That’s
my business,” replied Joe. “Why don’t you get on your horse and move
on.”
“Cranky,
aren’t you, friend,” said the rider.
“I
just don’t like people butting into my business,” said Joe.
The
rider looked at Joe, eyes narrow and calculating. Then he made his move.
As Joe
saw the rider’s right hand reach for the gun in his holster, his own left hand
reached for his own gun as he dove to his right. Both men were fast with their
guns. Both pistols fired almost simultaneously.
Instantly, Joe
felt a burning pain in his left side as he hit the ground. He watched as the
rider clutched his chest and doubled over. Then the pain in Joe’s side seem to
intensify. He winced and grabbed his side with his right hand. He felt the
sticky liquid and knew he had been hit.
Laying on the ground, Joe closed his eyes tightly as the pain seemed to burn
into his side. He could hear the sound of horses running, and the soft grunts of
his own agony. He was breathing hard and he could hear his breath escaping in
rapid bursts through his mouth.
But
Joe was grateful for what he didn’t hear – the sound of the other man moving
and the click of a trigger being pulled for a second shot.
Joe
wasn’t sure how long he laid on the ground with his eyes closed. No more than
a few minutes, he was sure. The pain in his side seemed to ease a bit, and Joe
rolled on his right side, pulling his knees up a bit and curling his shoulders
forward. That seemed to ease the pain even more. Joe laid on his side for
another few minutes and then slowly opened his eyes.
A few feet away, Joe
could see the rider on the ground. The man laid on his stomach,
face down, his gun a few inches from his hand. Joe couldn’t tell if the man
was dead or alive. He knew he should probably check. But he also knew that in
his current position, the pain in his side was at least bearable. If he moved,
the pain would get worse. So Joe simply laid on the ground and closed his eyes.
It
was the sound of the water splashing over the rocks in the stream that finally
got Joe to move. He laid on the ground for a long time in not a comfortable
position but one which he felt offered him the least amount of pain. A lassitude
seemed to be creeping through him, and Joe’s felt no desire to move. Some part
of Joe’s brain was telling him that if he simply laid here, he would die. But
the rest of his body seemed to reject this notion. Joe lost track of time, and
thought he may have even drifted in and out of consciousness for awhile. He knew
he ought to care about that, but he didn’t.
But
the longer he laid on the ground, the drier his mouth grew and the bigger his
thirst. He suddenly wanted nothing more out of life than a drink of that cold
water from the stream. The sound of the water tickling over the rocks seemed to
beckon him. Joe could hear the water running slowly and an occasional splash as
something like a branch or a stone dropped by a bird hit the water. The desire
for a drink overcame his desire to lay unmoving on the ground.
Slowly uncoiled his body, Joe grunted as each movement seemed to set off a new wave
of pain. He pushed himself up on his elbows, and slowly forced the lower half of
his body up until he was on his knees. He thought briefly about standing but
quickly discarded that notion. He didn’t think he had the strength, and,
besides, being on his hands and knees seemed to ease the pain again.
Turning his head slowly, Joe
looked until he could see the stream, and then kept his eyes fixed on his
objective. For right now, all that mattered was getting to the water. He slowly
began to crawl on his hands and knees, grunting in pain as he moved. He didn’t
mark the distance he had to travel. He simply forced himself forward.
Joe
was surprised when he found himself next to the rider sprawled on the ground. He
hadn’t really had a sense of making progress over the rough ground. Joe
stopped and shook his head to clear it. He remembered he should check to see if
the man was dead. Joe put his hand on the man’s back and felt no movement. He
reached a little higher until his hand found the man’s neck. The flesh was
cool and Joe couldn’t feel a pulse. Joe was fairly sure the man was dead.
Seeing the rider’s gun laying on the ground in front of him, Joe brushed it
away with his hand. Then he turned once more to look for the stream. Now he
could see the water as well as hear it. Joe forgot about the dead man and the
gun laying nearby. He began to crawl forward once more.
With a sense of relief, Joe finally reached the water. He collapsed to the
ground and plunged his face into the stream. The water flowed into his mouth and
he began drinking. The cool water was the best thing Joe had ever tasted.
Joe
finally lifted his head from the water, his thirst at least temporarily
satisfied. The cool water on his face seemed to clear his thinking and revive
his spirit also. For the first time, he began thinking about taking stock of his
situation.
Rolling to his right, Joe took a look at the wound in his side for the first time.
His shirt and jacket were soaked with blood.He pulled the cloth up and winced
both from the pain and the sight of the wound.
The
bullet seemed to have taken a chunk of flesh out of Joe’s side. The wound was
bleeding freely, but as far as Joe could tell, the bullet hadn’t hit anything
but flesh and muscle. Shock, pain and loss of blood seemed to be the worst
damage done by the bullet.
With fumbling fingers, Joe searched the inside of his jacket for the small pocket and
then for piece of cloth inside the pocket. He finally found the handkerchief and
pulled it out. The handkerchief wasn’t very big, and it had the dull white
color of much washed cloth. Joe stuck the handkerchief in the stream and waited
a moment until he was sure the cloth was thoroughly soaked. Then he pulled the
dripping handkerchief out of the water and pressed it against his side.
As he pressed the wet cloth against the wound, Joe
yelped with pain but he held the
handkerchief firmly against his side. He fell onto his back and pressed even
harder against the wound. As he stared up at the sky, Joe tried to think about
what to do next.
The
horses had run off, that he knew. They had been frightened by the loud shots so
close to them. Joe thought briefly about trying to find one of them, but
discarded that idea. There was no telling how long and far they would run. He
could try to track them for days without success.
What
he needed now, Joe decided, was some help. The nearest town was Twin Pines, and
that was almost a day’s ride on horseback. For a wounded man on foot, it would
take much longer to reach the town.
Initially, Joe
thought about simply staying where he was. He had plenty of water and was
reasonably comfortable. A rider could come up the trail. Maybe it was just wiser
to stay here than try to make it back to town.
Then Joe
gave a short, ironic laugh as he thought about what to do. He had told his Pa
that he wanted to make his own decisions. Well, now he was faced with one of
those decisions. He could try to make it to Twin Pines or take his chances by
staying where he was. Joe shook his head. He wished he knew what was the best
thing to do. He wished he had someone to tell him what to do.
Turning his head, Joe
looked over to toward the body laying on the ground. Ferguson had paid him a
hundred dollars for the three horses. A hundred dollars, Joe thought, wasn’t
much money. Maybe the man thought he had more money, or maybe a hundred dollars
had been a lot of money to him. Joe shook his head. It didn’t matter. That
hundred dollars had been the price of the man’s life – and maybe his own.
Staring up at the sky, Joe could see the sun through the trees and knew it was
afternoon. Maybe he should simply stay where he was until morning, and then
start out for Twin Pines then. He winced as he felt another stab of pain from
his side. Walking to Twin Pines would be difficult, painful. Maybe he was better
off where he was.
Joe
closed his eyes and forced himself to look at the situation he was in. If he
stayed where he was, there was good chance he could die. Infection, starvation,
even exposure would probably kill him if he simply laid by the stream. If he
wanted to have any chance at all, he had to try for Twin Pines, had to try to
find help. And he had to do it now, while he still had the strength.
Rolling on his side again, Joe once more he plunged his face into the stream to
drink. He drank as much water as he could, not knowing when he might find
another stream. He raised his face from the stream. The water dripped from his
hair and face. One last time, he put his face in the water, and forced himself
to drink again. When he was convinced he had filled himself with as much water
as he could hold, Joe raised his head from the stream.
Laying on his side, Joe gathered his strength and telling himself that he could make
it to Twin Pines. The closer he got to the town, the more likely he was to find
help. He would make it, he told himself over and over again.
Taking a deep breath, Joe pushed himself up on his elbow. He held the handkerchief
against his left side firmly as he pushed himself off the ground with his right
hand. Joe winced and grunted as he moved his legs. He wasn’t sure exactly how
he managed to do it, but somehow, he got to his feet.
Joe
stood still for a moment, gathering his strength. His legs felt weak and he
seemed lightheaded. He closed his eyes and took another breath. He slowly
opened his eyes and looked into the trees in front of him. What had once seemed
a peaceful forest now seemed like an expanse of frightening empty woods. Joe
gritted his teeth. Then he began walking.
************
The
sun had dipped a bit in the late afternoon sky as Joe staggered slowly between
the trees. His side burned with pain as he walked, and his head was aching.
Rivulets of sweat ran down his face and neck, caused by exertion, pain and a
growing fever. Joe felt as if he had been walking for days, although in reality
he had left the stream only a little over an hour ago. Joe had lost all sense of
time and direction as he wandered through the woods, his gait more a shuffle
than a walk. He vaguely remembered he was trying to get someplace, but he had
forgotten where. All of his effort was focused on trying to stay on his feet.
Joe
took a few more steps, then rested, leaning against a tree. His right hand still
pressed the now bloody cloth against his side, although this was simply another
activity which his muddled brain had fixed into place than a conscious act. His
knees buckled a bit as Joe’s tired body fought his determination to stay on
his feet. Joe blinked as he stared almost uncomprehending at the tall trees and
thick brush spreading out in front of him. The woods seemed endless, offering no
hint of anyone or anything that might offer help.
Pushing himself away from the tree, Joe shuffled forward, his determination to
keep moving winning, at least temporarily, over his
Joe
laid on his left side on the ground, his tired body wanting to stay where it
was. Joe could feel the hard ground against his cheek and could the smell the
dirt on which he laid. He also smelled another scent, this one unrecognizable.
The odor was pungent and the image it flashed into Joe’s brain was that of
some type of animal.
It
took a few seconds for Joe’s brain to connect the smell with danger, but once
it did, Joe felt a new urgency to move. He pushed himself up on his elbow and
lifted his head and shoulders. Joe swiveled his head, looking for any sign of
the animal and was relieved when he saw nothing. He pulled his left leg forward
a bit and his knee brushed against something hard. Joe look back toward his leg
and saw an odd-looking pile of leaves and twigs. He looked away, his mind too
tired and muddled to consider what the small mound of coverings might be.
Joe
heard the trap spring an instant before he felt its teeth bite into his leg.
As the bear trap snapped closed around his leg, Joe
screamed in agony. The sharp
teeth dug into his calf and ground into the bone of his leg. Joe instinctively
tried to pull his leg away, but that caused only the trap to tear away more skin
and muscle. A wave of agonizing pain radiated up his leg.
Gasping for breath, Joe
laid still. The pain was so bad he could barely breathe and
he knew any movement would cause the trap to tear at his leg some more. He
cursed himself for his stupidity in not realizing the scent had been a lure for
the bear and for not seeing the trap in the pile of leaves.
Joe
forgot the pain in his side as it was replaced by a more intense agonizing pain.
He could barely think; his brain seemed to be filled with urgent messages to do
something, anything to ease the pain from his leg.
Moving
with almost infinite slowness, Joe pulled himself off the ground. He was careful
not to move his leg, not wanting to do anything that cause the sharp teeth of
the trap to tear away more flesh. Joe propped himself up on his elbow, and
through a haze of pain, studied the trap.
His
leg was horizontal in the trap, caught as he had brushed across it
The
problem now was how to get the trap open far enough that he could pull his leg
free. Joe knew the best way to open a bear trap was to put pressure on the
levers at either end of the now closed jaws. Joe twisted slowly, trying to
position himself to reach the levers.
Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, Joe tried to ease the pain in his side. It
was now a question of which hurt most, his leg or his side.
Joe
opened his eyes and forced himself to continue to twist his body so his hands
would be closer to the trap. He bent his captured leg slightly at the knee,
hoping the movement would cause the teeth to dig further into his leg.
For several minutes, Joe
bent and curled his body before he finally admitted he couldn’t
maneuver himself into the right position to reach both levers.
All
right, thought Joe grimly, if I can’t use the levers, I’ll just pull the
jaws open. Joe bent his body a bit more, trying desperately to ignore the stabs
of pain from his side. He gripped the jaws on either side of his leg.
Joe’s
hands were slick from both sweat and the blood from his side. He couldn’t get
a good grip on the metal. Joe wiped his hands on the ground, trying to dry them,
then grabbed at the jaws of the trap once more.
Pulling with every ounce of strength he had, Joe tried to open the trap.
Unfortunately, his strength had been sapped by the gunshot wound and his
exhausting trek through the woods. Despite his efforts, Joe couldn’t move the
jaws. His leg remained firmly caught in
Joe
fell back to the ground, his small reserve of strength gone. He pounded the
ground weakly in frustration and agony. The pain in his leg was an intense throb
and his side ached. Joe had heard stories of animals caught in traps gnawing off
their leg in order to get free. He had thought those stories incredible. Now he
understood why an animal might do that. Joe would do anything to free his leg
and end the agonizing pain.
A
look of fierce determination crossed Joe’s face as he pushed himself up off
the ground again. He forced the pain back to a small area of his mind, and he
concentrated every ounce of strength he had into his arms. Once more he gripped
the metal jaws and once more he tried to pull them apart. With an almost
superhuman effort, his hands began to separate the metal. The trap opened only a
fraction, not enough to free his leg, but enough to keep Joe pulling at the
metal.
Joe
had managed to open the trap a fraction more when his sweaty left hand lost
it’s grip on the metal. The jaw of the trap slipped from his hand and snapped
closed on his leg again. Joe screamed as once more the teeth dug into his flesh.
He fell back to the ground as the agonizing pain radiated up his leg with
renewed intensity. Joe’s body went limp and dark spots danced before his eyes.
He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness and didn’t resist. He no longer
had the strength to do anything but accept the end of awareness.
****************
The
dog spotted the figure on the ground as it ran ahead of its master. The animal
stopped and growled a bit, challenging the unknown human a few feet away. The
black hair on its back bristled and its sharp teeth were visible under its
curled lips. When the human didn’t move or respond, the dog moved forward,
sniffing cautiously. The scent of bear as well as blood frightened the dog. It
ran back a few steps, yelping excitedly, then turned back to the figure which
still hadn’t moved. The dog began barking, trying both to warn its master and
frighten away the unwanted scents.
“Be
quiet, Lucifer,” ordered the dog’s master as he guided his horse toward the
excited dog. Lucifer ignored the order, and continued to bark at the figure on
the ground.
The
man led his horse over by the dog. The rider wore a light blue shirt and a tan
vest. His legs were covered by dark brown trousers, and a light brown hat was
perched on his head. Thick white hair was visible beneath the hat, and a neatly
trimmed white beard and mustache covered his tanned face.
Faint lines were visible on his face and around his blue eyes. The man
wasn’t young, but neither was he what people would consider old.
The
rider held the reins loosely but tightened his grip as he rode closer to the
dog. His horse shied a bit, catching the whiff of bear scent and blood also, but
the rider pulled on the reins to control the horse. When the horse was quiet,
the man looked to see what Lucifer had found.
The
man’s eyes widened in surprise as he saw the young man sprawled on the ground
with a bear trap gripping his leg. He quickly dismounted and led his horse a
step or two away, toward a nearby tree. The rider looped the reins around a low
branch and tied them tightly. He had no desire to chase after a frightened
horse.
Lucifer
continued to bark and dance around wildly, becoming more excited with each
passing minute. The rider stopped and knelt by the dog, grabbing the animal’s
head and neck in a light grip. “All right, all right,” he said to the dog in
a soothing tone. “I see him. You just calm down, Lucifer.” The man patted
and stroked the dog’s head until Lucifer stopped barking. “Good dog,”
added the man as he gave the dog another few pats. “You stay here and be
quiet.”
Lucifer
watched as his master got to his fee and walked over toward the figure on the
ground. The dog’s body was tense but he obeyed the order to stay still.
Joe
laid on his side, his back to the approaching man. The man could detect no
movement and wondered if the figure on the ground was dead or alive. The man
knelt next to Joe to get a better look. He was surprised at how young the man
was, little more than a boy. The rider put
his hand on the side of the boy’s neck. He could feel a faint pulse, and now
that he was near the boy, see the slight rise and fall of the young man’s
chest.
“Son,
you sure got yourself into a fix,” muttered the man as he turned to look at
leg in the bear trap. Joe’s pants leg was soaked with blood,
The
man moved to the trap and gripped the levers on either side of the jaws. He
pushed hard on the levers. The trap had been sitting in the woods for some time,
and while it wasn’t rusty, the mechanism of the trap was stiff. The man pushed
hard, feeling the trap’s resistance. Slowly the jaws began to separate. The
man pushed even harder and the jaws opened.
Joe’s
leg dropped to the ground as it was released. The man waited until he was sure
he had the jaws re-set, then quickly lifted Joe’s leg out of the trap. He
eased the leg to the side, making sure it was clear of the bear trap, then set
the leg down gently. The man looked around and saw a small branch a few feet
away. He got to his feet and walked over to pick up the branch then returned to
the bear trap.
The
man threw the stick aside and turned his attention to the boy on the ground.
Joe
had laid silent and unmoving throughout the whole process of his release from
the bear trap. The man shook his head at that. He wondered if the boy had hit
his head or something. He found it curious that the young man had been so still.
The
man turned Joe over gently on to his back, and once more his eyes widened as he
saw the wide stain of blood on the left side of Joe’s jacket and shirt.
“What have you done to yourself?” the man said as he shook his head. He
gently pulled up Joe’s shirt. A bloody cloth was pressed again Joe’s side.
The man slowly removed the cloth and looked at the wound. He could tell it was a
gunshot wound, probably a few hours old. Dried blood crusted the wound, although
a trickle of fluid still escaped. The skin around the wound was red and a bit
swollen. The man’s conclusion was the same as Joe’s – the bullet had gone
through Joe’s side, putting a deep gash in the young man’s flesh, but
missing any organs or bone.
The
man dropped the cloth to the side, and pulled Joe’s shirt down. He looked up
to the face of the boy.
Joe’s
face was pale, almost waxen, but two bright spots of red were visible on his
cheeks. The red spots and the beads of sweat on Joe’s face and neck told the
man that fever and probably infection had already set in.
The
man turned his attention to Joe’s leg. Blood was still seeping from the leg,
telling the man the injury was newer than the gunshot wound. It didn’t take
much for the man to figure out that Joe had been wandering around with the wound
in his side and stumbled into the bear trap. “You’re having a really bad
day, aren’t you,” said the man, glancing at Joe’s face. “Well, let’s
see what we can do about patching you up a bit.”
The
man stood and walked over to his horse. As he passed his dog, still standing and
watching patiently, he gave the animal a pat on the head. “Good work,
Lucifer,” he said. The dog barked once then sat on its haunches.
The
man walked over to his horse and pulled open the saddlebag slung across the
animals back. He studied the contents with a frown.
There
wasn’t much in the bag that would be of help to him. He pulled out a checked
napkin, the cloth that had once wrapped his noontime sandwich. The cloth was
clean, but he shook it out anyway, just to be sure. He pulled out a knife in a
scabbard, and tugged the knife free, dropping the scabbard back in the
saddlebag. He looked into the bag again, as if he expected other items to
magically appear. Then he closed the bag.
The
man slipped off his vest and put it over the saddle. He began unbuttoning his
shirt with a sigh. “I did like this shirt,” he said as he shook his head.
When the buttons were undone, he slipped the shirt off, revealing a well-formed
chest sparsely covered with a fine layer of gray hair. The man put his vest back
on, then used the knife to slice the shirt into strips.
When
the blue cloth had been cut into several long strips, the man returned to Joe.
He pulled up Joe’s shirt and pressed the napkin against the gunshot wound,
trying one of the strips around Joe’s body to hold the napkin in place. Then
he moved down to take a look at the injured leg.
Using
the knife, the man slit Joe’s pants to the knee and pulled the cloth apart.
Joe’s leg was covered with blood, so the man used another strip of cloth to
clean the leg as best he could. As he wiped away the blood, he could see six
puncture wounds, three in the calf and three near the shin. The skin near the
wounds was torn and the man figured the boy had foolishly tried to pull his leg
free. The punctures were deep, and blood welled up in them almost as soon as the
man wiped them clean.
The
man felt the bone below Joe’s knee. He couldn’t detect any displaced bone
but that didn’t mean the leg didn’t have some kind of break in it. The man
took the remaining strips of cloth and wrapped them tightly around Joe’s leg,
both to stop the bleed and the hold the bone in place if there was a fracture.
When
he was finished, the man wiped his hands on the ground, cleaning them a bit of
the blood that now covered them. He sat back, and thought about what to do next.
He
knew the boy was in bad shape, and needed some proper attention. The best thing
to do, he decided, was to get him to his place as quickly as possible. A travois
would take time to build, even if he could manage it with his limited resources.
The man shook his head. There was nothing to do but throw the boy on his horse
and hope for the best.
The
man stuck his knife through his belt, then reached down to pick up the boy. He
put one arm under Joe’s knees and another under his shoulders. With a grunt,
he lifted Joe from the ground, and staggered to his feet.
Joe
moaned softly and his head moved slightly as the man lifted him.
It
took several minutes of maneuvering before the man got Joe into the saddle. Joe
slumped forward over the horn, arms dangling loosely on either side of the
animal’s neck. His legs hung against the side of the horse. The man untied the
reins and climbed up on the horse behind Joe. He reached forward and pulled the
boy back against him. Joe grunted softly but his arms and legs still hung lax.
The man pulled the reins and clicked at the horse, turning the animal and
starting it at a walk. Without looking, he called to the dog. “Come on,
Lucifer,” he said. “Let’s get the boy home.”
*********
The
man wiped Joe’s face with a cold, damp cloth, washing the sweat from the young
man’s face. It was getting on toward midnight, and, except for a brief respite
to put on a shirt and feed the animals, the man had been tending to the boy
since late afternoon. As he worked, the man wondered what else he could do to
help the boy he had found in the woods. He had managed to get the get injured
man home, and after laying him on the bed and striping him of his bloody clothes
and makeshift bandages, he had cleaned the wounds as best he could with alcohol.
The sting of the alcohol had forced several moans from the boy, but otherwise,
Joe had remained silent and unmoving on the bed.
The
man had bandaged Joe’s wounds with thick pads of white cloth, and covered him
with several blankets, hoping to sweat the fever out of the boy. He had spooned
willow bark tea into Joe, a remedy the man’s mother had sworn by to break a
fever. The man wished he had some other medicine to offer.
The
man thought about going for a doctor, but he quickly rejected the idea. There
was no doctor in Twin Pines, and he couldn’t leave the boy alone for the four
or five days it would take to fetch a doctor from the next town. Besides, the
man had a feeling that by morning he would know whether the boy was beyond help.
The young man in the bed looked strong and healthy, but he had lost a lot of
blood, and the fever indicated the wounds were infected. A battle was being
waged within the boy’s body, and the man felt he would know by morning which
side was going to be victorious.
The
man looked at the pale, sweaty figure on the bed and wondered who the boy was
and what he was doing in the woods. Another thought niggled at the back of the
man’s brain: why was he led to the boy? The man pushed the thought aside for
now. It was too weighty an idea for him to contemplate as he sat by the boy’s
bed.
The
man wiped Joe’s face again, and this time the young man in the bed stirred.
Joe
felt a hand lifting his head from the pillow. A cup was placed against Joe’s
lips. Joe began sipping the liquid slowly, almost too weak to swallow. The
liquid had a slightly bitter taste but Joe didn’t care. He drank it
gratefully.
After
a minute or so, the cup was removed and Joe’s head was laid gently on the
pillow. Joe laid still for a moment then forced his tired eyes open.
“Pa?”
said Joe in a whisper. He closed his eyes briefly, then forced his lids open
again. “Pa?”
The
man sitting by the bed was startled by Joe’s whisper. He stared at the boy for
a minute. “No, I’m not your Pa, son,” he said slowly.
Joe’s
muddled brain didn’t understand the words but he heard what he thought was a
familiar deep voice. “Pa,” he said, his voice more urgent. “Pa, help
me.” Joe winced and grunted as a
new wave of pain wracked his body. “Pa….it hurts…please…Pa…help me,”
begged Joe.
Joe
turned his face toward the figure by the bed. He moved his hand, reaching out
until he felt an arm. He clutched the arm weakly. “Pa… I’m sorry…I’m
sorry about…what I said,” said Joe in a breathless
whisper. “Please…help me…I’m sorry…please…it hurts bad.”
The
man stared at the boy in the bed. He knew the boy was delirious; his eyes were
bright with fever and his speech slurred and disjointed. But the man also could
see the pleading look on the boy’s face, and he could hear the boy begging for
comfort.
The
man put his hand over the boy’s hand. “It’s all right, son,” he said in
a soothing voice. “I forgive you. Everything is going to be all right now.”
He patted the boy’s hand lightly.
“Pa?”
said Joe again as he heard the deep timber of the voice if not the words.
“Pa…don’t leave me…don’t…” Joe’s voice faded away.
The
man patted the boy’s head, and brushed the damp curls of hair from the boy’s
forehead. “I won’t leave, son,” he said softly. “Your Pa’s here.
Don’t worry. I’m here.”
The
man felt the boy’s hand slip from his arm, and he saw the boy’s eyes close.
The boy’s chest was rising and falling with a steady regularity that indicated
the boy had slipped back into the darkness of sleep. The man sat back the in the
chair and closed his own eyes. “Lord,” he prayed softly. “You brought this
boy to me. Don’t take him away again. Please. Don’t take him from me.”
*******************
Joe
slowly opened his eyes, a task that seemed incredibly difficult. He felt as weak
as a newborn kitten, and both his side and leg throbbed with a dull ache.
Joe’s eyes scanned the room, searching for some clue which would tell him
where was.
Plaster
covered the walls of the rather large room. Joe saw a window with shutters on
the far wall, and a small dresser just to the left of the window. A bookcase,
half filled with books, stood next to the dresser. Joe turned his head a bit and
saw a small fireplace on the side wall. He turned his head toward the other side
of the room. He could see a door, partially open, a few feet away. A table
stood next to the bed, the top of which was covered with a pan, cloths, cups and
a small teapot. A chair sat next to the bed, and that’s what drew Joe’s
attention. The chair and the man sleeping quietly in it.
Joe
studied the man, wondering who he was. He reminded Joe a bit of his father –
about the same age, same thick white hair, same tan vest. The man’s chin
rested on his chest, and Joe could hear the sound of a faint snore.
The
groan must have wakened the man in the chair, because he instantly sat up. He
rubbed his eyes and stared at the figure in the bed. For a moment, the man
looked puzzled, as if he were surprised to see Joe. Then a warm smile crossed
the man’s face. “Good morning,” said the man in the chair. “How are you
feeling?”
“Hi,”
replied Joe weakly. He turned his head a bit. “Where am I?”
The
man ignored Joe’s question as he reached down and felt Joe’s forehead.
“Your fever’s down,” he said with a nod of satisfaction. “You had me
pretty worried last night. But I think you’re going to be all right, now.”
The man studied Joe for a moment. “You thirsty?” he asked.
“Yeah,
I am,” responded Joe with a weak nod.
The
man turned to the table next to the bed. “The tea’s gone cold, but it’s
wet and it’s good for you,” he said as he poured a light brown liquid from
the teapot into one of the cups. He turned back to the bed and handed the cup to
Joe. “You drink this,” he ordered the boy.
Joe
took the cup and put it to his mouth. He sipped the liquid and instantly made a
face as he tasted the bitter brew. “What’s this?” he asked.
The
man laughed at Joe’s expression. “Willow bark tea,” he answered. “I know
it doesn’t taste very good but it will help bring your fever down. You drink
it.”
Gamely, Joe took another drink from the cup. He wrinkled his nose at the bitter taste
but he swallowed the tea. “Thanks,” said Joe as he handed the cup back to
the man. He watched as the man put the cup back on the table. “Where am I?”
asked Joe when the man turned back to the bed. “Twin Pines?”
The
man gave a short laugh. “No, son,” he replied. “You’re about as far up
the mountain from Twin Pines as a man can get?”
Joe’s
eyes widened in surprise and he glanced around the room again. The room had
given him the impression that he was in a house, not some cabin in the
mountains, and his glance confirmed the size and comfortable furnishings in the
room.
The
man saw Joe’s expression and smiled. “This isn’t like any other place in
these mountains,” he said. “I built a fine, big house out here in the
middle of the wilderness.”
Joe nodded slowly. “How did I get here?”
“I
found you yesterday afternoon in the woods,” answered the man. “You were
just laying there on the ground, your leg caught in a bear trap. When I got you
out, I saw the bullet wound in your side. You were in pretty bad shape, so I
brought you to my place.” The man looked at Joe with curiosity. “Do you want
to tell me what happened?”
Closing his eyes for a minute, Joe tried to remember clearly what had happened to
him. “Some fellow tried to rob me,” Joe replied slowly He nicked me with a
bullet. I was trying to make it to Twin Pines. I fell and got caught in the
trap.” Joe was too tired to give more than the bare bones of what happened.
“I
figured it was something like that,” said the man with a nod.
Joe
tried to move his leg and winced at the pain. “My leg,” he asked, “is it
broken?”
“Well,
I don’t know for sure,” admitted the man. “I couldn’t feel any broken
bones, but those teeth probably nicked the bone at the very least. Could be a
slight fracture. One way or the other, you’re not going to put any weight on
that leg for awhile.”
Too tired to really take in the full meaning of the man’s words, Joe merely
nodded
The
man could see the boy was tiring. “We’ll talk later,” he said. “You need
some rest.”
Joe
nodded his agreement. “By the way, my name’s Joe Cartwright,” added Joe in
a weak voice.
“Name’s
Tyler,” replied the man. An odd look flickered across the man’s face. “You
can call me Pa if you’d like.”
Joe
frowned, “Pa?” he said in a puzzled voice.
“Paul,”
corrected the man quickly.
Joe’s
face cleared and he nodded.
“It’s
nice to meet you, Joe Cartwright,” said Paul with a smile. The odd look
flickered across his face again. “I’m very pleased to have you here.”
“No
nearly as pleased as I am to be here,” replied Joe with a tired smile. He
blinked slowly; his eyelids were feeling heavy and a weariness seemed to be
seeping through him. “Thank you, Paul,” he said in a low voice as his eyes
began to close. “Thank you for saving me.”
Paul
shrugged off Joe’s thanks. “You get some rest,” he said as he stood and
turned to leave the room. Paul stopped by the door and looked back to the bed.
Joe’s eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling in the steady
rhythm of sleep. “Welcome, son,” he said softly. Then he turned and left the
room.
***************
A
hand gently shaking him woke Joe. He twisted a bit on the bed, trying to escape
the hand that wanted him to leave the comfortable cocoon of sleep. The hand
shook him a bit harder, and Joe reluctantly opened his eyes.
Paul
stood over the bed, his face creased with concern. “Joe, you awake?” he
asked worriedly.
Joe
nodded sleepily in response, then winced as his movement sent a pang of pain
from his side. Joe caught of whiff of something that smelled appetizing and his
stomach rumbled in response. Joe licked his lips as he opened his eyes wider.
“You’ve
been asleep for a couple of hours,” said Paul with a relieved smile. “I was
getting worried.” Paul cocked his head toward the table by the bed where a
bowl with steam rising from it sat waiting. “I thought you might be hungry, so
I made you some soup.”
Pushing himself up a bit on the bed, Joe smiled. “I’m starved.”
“Young
fellows your age generally are always hungry,” said Paul as he reached for the
bowl. Paul turned back to the bed with the bowl in his hands, then hesitated.
“Think you can manage this by yourself?” he asked Joe.
Nodding, Joe reached for the bowl. The bowl was made from wood, wide and thick but
not very deep. A wooden spoon rested in the bowl, with only its handle visible.
“Smells good,” said Joe as he grabbed the spoon.
“Broth
with some bits of chicken and rice in it,” said Paul. “I figured you
weren’t ready for solid food, but you need something more than just broth in
your stomach.”
With a tentative lick, Joe
tasted the soup. “This is really good,” he said and began spoon the soup
into his mouth quickly.
“I’m
a pretty fair cook,” said Paul with a shrug. He settled back in the chair,
obviously meaning to keep Joe company as he ate. “Where are you from, Joe?”
he asked.
“I
live on a ranch near Virginia City with my Pa and two brothers,” answered Joe.
His reply was slightly muffled as he tried to eat and talk at the same time.
“Don’t
talk with your mouth full,” said Paul. He flushed and looked away.
“Sorry,” he said in an embarrassed tone.
Joe
grinned. “Don’t worry,” he said. “My Pa is always telling me the same
thing.”
Paul
gave Joe a speculative look. “You did some talking last night when you were
out of your head with fever,” he said. “Kept mentioning your Pa and saying
you were sorry. You two have a fight or something?” Paul flushed again.
“Sorry if it sounds like I’m prying.”
“No,
it’s all right,” answered Joe. He took another spoonful of the soup and made
sure he swallowed it all before going on. It gave him a minute to think about
how to answer Paul’s question. “I had an argument with my Pa and brothers
before I left for Twin Pines. I guess it was on my mind. When I left, things
were still kind of tense.”
“If
I’m not being too nosy,” said Paul, with a small smile, “what was it
about? I’m just curious. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t
have to.”
Joe
thought a minute and then shrugged. “No reason not to talk about it,” he
said. “It’s kind of hard to explain. I’m the youngest in the family.
Lately, it just seems like every time I turn around, there’s my Pa or brothers
telling me what to do or checking up on me. We argued about it before I left. I
just can’t seem to get them to realize that I’m not a kid any more.”
Paul
smiled a bit a Joe’s words. To Paul, the young man in the bed looked hardly
more than a boy. But he understood a young man’s desire to be thought of as an
adult, to be able to do things on his own.
“My
Pa told me to take some time on this trip,” added Joe. “I think he wanted me
to try to work things out in my mind. The only problem is, I can’t seem to
come up with an answer. Every time I think of Hoss and Adam, I seem to get mad
all over again.”
“Hoss
and Adam?” said Paul raising an eyebrow. “Those your brothers?”
“Yeah,”
said Joe. “My older brothers. And they never let me forget they’re older.”
Paul
nodded. “I can understand how people might get under your skin sometimes.
That’s why I came up here. To get away from people.”
“And
I dropped in on you, sort of,” said Joe. He smiled ruefully. “Sorry.”
“I
said people,” replied Paul with a laugh. “I think I can handle one
person.” Paul bit his lip and his face grew serious. “Joe, you said you had
a run in with somebody who tried to rob you,” said Paul. “What happened to
that fellow?”
Joe
looked down into the bowl. The soup was virtually gone, which was good because
Joe suddenly lost his appetite. “I killed him,” said Joe in a quiet voice.
“He went for his gun and so did I. I guess my aim was better.”
A sympathetic look crossed Paul's
face; he
could see that Joe was bothered by the thought of killing a man. He leaned
forward and put a comforting hand on Joe’s arm. “A man has a right to defend
himself, son,” he said softly. Joe nodded but his face with filled with
regret.
Sitting back in the chair, Paul said in a very quiet voice, “So no one knows where you are.,”
Joe
wasn’t sure he heard the words correctly. “I guess I’m going to need to
let my family know what happened,” he said.
Reaching over, Paul took the empty soup bowl from Joe. “We’ll talk about that
later,” he said. Paul looked at Joe, his expression somewhat grim. “Joe,
I’m going to have to change the bandages on your leg and side,” he said.
“I also need to clean out those wounds again with alcohol.” Paul looked
pained. “It’s going to hurt, son. I’m sorry. But I don’t know what else
to do.”
Joe
swallowed hard and nodded.
“I’ll
make you some willow bark tea later,” said Paul with a wry smile, trying to
lighten the mood. “I’m sure you’ll like that.”
“Gee,
thanks,” said Joe, his voice tinged with sarcasm.
“Always
happy to oblige,” replied Paul with a grin.
Putting the bowl on the table, Paul reached for some cloth and a tall clear bottle
sitting at the back of the table. He
stood and walked around to the other side of the bed. “I’ll be as gentle as
I can, Joe,” he promised. “But it’s going to sting. You go ahead and yell
if you want. There’s nobody around to hear you.” Joe’s face grew serious
and he nodded.
Paul
sat on the edge of the bed and pulled back the covers a bit. He untied the cloth
around Joe’s waist and gently lift the thick bandage from Joe’s side.
The
wound in Joe’s side was beginning to heal, but the edges of the wound were
still red and puffy. Paul opened the bottle and poured some the clear liquid
onto a small cloth in his hands. He looked up at Joe. “Ready?” he asked. Joe
closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and nodded.
To
Joe, it felt like Paul was sticking a hot poker into his side. He pressed hard
against the bed and clutched at the sides of the pillows with his hands. The
burning pain seemed to get worse, and Joe gasped for air, letting out a groan as
he did so.
“All
done,” said Paul in a quiet voice as he began to bandage Joe’s side again.
Joe nodded and tried to relax. The burning was beginning to ease a bit but it
was still painful.
“Your
side is healing nicely,” said Paul as he pulled up the covers. “I don’t
think I’m gong to have to clean it out again.” He turned on the bed and
pulled the covers off Joe’s heavily bandaged leg. Paul looked at injured leg
then turned back to Joe. “I’m sorry, boy,” he said regretfully. “I wish
I didn’t have to do this to you.”
Joe’s
eyes were closed and beads of sweat were visible on his forehead. “Just get it
done,” he said through clenched teeth.
Nodding, Paul began to unwrap Joe’s leg.
Dreading the next wave of burning pain, Joe
waited with closed eyes. ,He didn’t
have to wait long. It seemed like only a few seconds before his leg seemed to be
on fire.
Joe
began to moan and twist on the bed. He felt a hand grip his leg just below the
knee to hold it still. Joe tried not to move, but he couldn’t stop himself
from thrashing around as he tried to escape the
After
what seemed a lifetime, the burning seemed to ease a bit and Joe felt his leg
being gently wrapped. He quieted his body and laid still on the bed, exhausted.
He heard Paul moving around the room, but Joe didn’t have the strength to open
his eyes. He felt a cloth brush against his forehead and cheek, then felt a hand
brushing the hair from his forehead.
“I’m
sorry, Joe, I really am,” said Paul. “You rest for awhile. You’ll feel
better after you’ve had some sleep.”
Nodding with his eyes still closed, Joe tried to relax his body and was surprised to
find he could. He felt peaceful darkness of sleep rapidly overtaking him.
Joe
was almost asleep so he wasn’t sure he heard Paul’s next words correctly.
“Go
to sleep, son,” said Paul. “I’ll watch over you. Paul’s here.”
Funny,
thought Joe as he drifted off to sleep. It almost sound like he said Pa’s
here.
***************
Two
days of sleep and solid food made Joe feel almost human again. His side felt
stiff and his leg still ached a bit, but Joe was able to maintain an almost
normal cycle of eating and sleeping. Paul was with Joe much of the time when Joe
was awake, talking or playing chess with him. He gave Joe a book from the
bookshelf to read, something to entertain Joe when Paul was cooking or looking
after the stock.
As
Joe’s body grew stronger, so did his curiosity about Paul. The man was
obviously intelligent and well-read. He discussed books with Joe as easily as he
talked about politics. His chess matches with Joe were mostly one-sided, easily
won by Paul. He admitted to Joe that he had carved or built most of the items in
his house.
Joe
wondered why Paul had hidden himself away in the mountains. Paul seemed to enjoy
the trappings of civilization – books, good food and fine furniture – but he
didn’t seem to have much desire to be around people. Joe tried to think of a
way to ask Paul about his living in the mountains alone, but he couldn’t come
up with a question that didn’t seem like prying.
Paul
was checking the wounds on Joe’s leg. Joe figured he had been in bed about
four days. He was beginning to chafe at the inactivity.
“Leg
is looking good,” comment Paul as he wrapped the bandages tightly.
“No
more alcohol treatments?” asked Joe.
“No,”
said Paul. He looked almost as relieved as Joe at the fact that the
uncomfortable treatments could stop. “I think all you need now is some time to
heal. I figure about another week in bed and maybe two or three on crutches.
I’ll make you a pair,” said Paul as he walked over to settle in the chair by
the bed.
“Paul,
I can’t stay here another three or four weeks!” protested Joe.
“I
don’t see that you have much choice, Joe,” replied Paul in a quiet voice.
“You won’t be able to put any weight on that leg for a while, not without
risking doing some more damage to it.”
“I
hate to impose on you for another month,” said Joe. “You’ve done so much
for me already.”
“I
don’t mind at all,” said Paul with a smile. “It’s nice having someone to
talk with.” Paul looked away. “I’ve gotten lonely over the past few
months. Nobody to talk to except Lucifer.”
“Who’s
Lucifer?” asked Joe with a frown.
“Lucifer’s
my dog…sort of,” replied Paul with a grin. “I found him in a trap, just
like I found you. Must have been, oh, a year or so ago. Lucifer doesn’t like
people much either. After I fixed him up, he refused to come back into the
house. I leave food for him outside.
“What
do you do on your ‘little trips’?” asked Joe curiously.
“Oh,
sometimes I hunt, sometimes I fish, and sometimes I just ride,” answered Paul
vaguely.
“You’re
not a trapper?” said Joe with surprise. “I figured maybe that’s why you
lived up here.”
“I
hate those traps, Joe,” said Paul almost fiercely. “I’ve seen what they do
to animals.” He looked at Joe with a wry smile. “I’ve seen what they can
do to people.” Paul’s face
turned serious again. “Every time I find one, I spring it shut.”
“That
won’t make you popular with the trappers who put them out,” pointed out Joe.
“Probably
not,” said Paul with a shrug. “But I don’t particularly care if they like
me or not.” Paul suddenly grinned. “Besides, they don’t know for sure that
I’m the one springing them.”
“What
do you do up here, Paul?” asked Joe, his curiosity growing. “I mean, if you
aren’t up here to trap, why do you live here?”
Paul
chose to answer only Joe’s first question. “I do whatever I feel like,”
said Paul. “When I get up in the morning, if I feel like fishing, I go
fishing. If I feel like making furniture, I make furniture. If I don’t feel
like doing anything, then I go back to bed.” He looked seriously at Joe.
“It’s a good life, Joe. No one to tell you what to do or how to do it. And
there’s no one to criticize or look down on you.”
For
a moment, the thought of such a life had an allure for Joe. He thought about
doing whatever he wanted, about having no one second guessing everything he did.
It did seem like a good life.
“But
it’s lonely up here for you,” said Joe.
Paul
looked down, as if trying to decide how to answer. “I haven’t always been
alone,” he said slowly. “My son lived with me. He was about your age. In
fact, you remind me of him – young, smart, full of life. When David was here,
I wasn’t lonely at all.”
“Where’s
David now?” asked Joe.
A
pained looked crossed Paul’s face. “I…lost him…about six months ago,”
he said in a low voice.
“I’m
sorry,” said Joe, his voice filled with sympathy.
Paul
nodded, then cleared his throat. “Well, how about a game of chess?” asked
Paul with a forced heartiness.
Joe
didn’t answer. His thoughts were elsewhere. “Paul,” he said, “I’ve got
to get word to my family about what happened, where I am. They’re going to
worry if I don’t.”
A
startled look crossed Paul’s face. “How do you propose we do that?” he
asked. “I don’t exactly have a telegraph up here.”
“I
thought maybe you could travel down to Twin Pines and send a wire,” suggested
Joe.
The
startled look now turned to alarm on Paul’s face. “I can’t go down to Twin
Pines,” he said. “I can’t leave you here alone.”
“How
far is it?” asked Joe.
“Takes
about a day to get there,” said Paul. “And another day to get back.”
“Two
days,” said Joe thoughtfully. “I bet I could manage on my own for two
days.”
“Joe,
I don’t want to take a chance,” said Paul in an urgent tone of voice.
“What if something happens? Banged up like you are, you wouldn’t be able to
fend for yourself.”
“I
could manage,” insisted Joe. Now the pained look crossed Joe’s face. “I
just hate the thought of my Pa worrying. If I don’t send word soon, he and my
brothers are going to come looking for me. They’ll search these mountains
until they find me. I just hate the idea of putting them through that.”
The
look of alarm grew on Paul’s face. “No,” he said. “We don’t want them
to come looking for you. It wouldn’t be right to have them spend all that time
looking for you.” Paul took a
deep breath and seemed to be trying to control some emotion. “I guess I could
go to Twin Pines and send a wire,” he said reluctantly.
“I’ll
be fine,” Joe reassured him.
Paul
looked thoughtful. “What do you think we should say in the telegram?” he
asked. “If I tell your father what happened, won’t he come looking for you
anyway?”
“Yeah,
I guess he would,” said Joe. “If I tell him I got shot, he’ll be here in
no time.”
“This
place isn’t easy to find, Joe,” said Paul with a small smile. “It’s not
like I can tell him to turn left at the second pine tree. He’s liable to
wander all over these mountains looking for this place.” Paul’s face grew
serious. “And that’s not good. These mountains aren’t the safest place, as
you found out. Besides the men up here, there’s bears, mountain lions roaming
around. The hills are pretty steep. A man could get hurt. We wouldn’t want
that.”
“You’re
right about that,” admitted Joe.
“And
I’m not going to wait in Twin Pines for him to show up,” said Paul firmly.
“I’m going to worry myself sick leaving you here by yourself for two days as
it is.”
Joe
blew out a breath in frustration. “What’ll we do?” he asked.
Paul
looked thoughtful. “How about I just send a wire over your name telling your
father you got delayed in Twin Pines for awhile. Nothing serious and you’ll
explain later. That would satisfy him, wouldn’t it. I mean that should keep
him from worrying and coming looking for you.”
Joe
looked thoughtful. “Yeah,” he agreed slowly. “It would.” He turned to
Paul. “When can you leave for Twin Pines?” he asked eagerly.
Holding up his hand, Paul laughed. “Slow down, son,” he said. “We got to get
this organized. I’ve got to cook up enough food to last you two days. I also
want to make those crutches for you.” Paul gave Joe an almost threatening
look. “Those crutches are just for an emergency,,” he said. “I want your
word you won’t use them while I’m not here, not unless you absolutely have
to.”
Joe
raised his right hand. “I promise,” he said solemnly.
“All
right,” said Paul with a satisfied nod as he rose from the chair. “I’ll
start cooking and making crutches. We’ll go over every possible contingency
later today. As long as I’m satisfied we’ve thought of everything, I’ll
leave for Twin Pines in the morning.”
“Thanks,
Paul,” said Joe gratefully.
Paul
waved his hand as he turned to leave the room. “No thanks needed,” he said.
“We don’t want your family wandering these mountains looking for you, do
we?”
*************
Ben
sat at his desk as Adam stood nearby going over the supply list. Ben was suppose
to be listening to his oldest son, but he wasn’t. He was thinking about his
youngest son.
“Do
you think 30 feet of wire, will be enough?” asked Adam.
“What?”
said Ben in a startled voice. “Oh, yes, yes, that will be fine.”
Adam
put down the supply list. “He’ll be home soon, Pa,” he said in a quiet
voice. “You know Joe. It just takes him a while to think things through.”
“I’m
not worried,” protested Ben. “I told him to take as much time as he needed.
He’s just…taking some time.”
“Sure,
Pa,” said Adam. But his voice reflected his disbelief in his father’s
protest.
“Joe
can take care of himself,” added Ben, trying to convince himself more than
Adam. “He doesn’t need us to be running after him. That’s what started all
of this in the first place.”
“Joe’s
fine,” said Adam with a nod. “He’ll be home any day now.”
“Of
course he will,” said Ben as positively as he could. He looked up at Adam.
“Now, how many feet of wire did you say?”
Before
Adam could answer, the front door opened and Hoss walked rapidly into the house.
“Pa,” he said eagerly. “We got a wire from Joe.”
A
look of relief crossed Ben’s face. He hurriedly stood up and rushed to where
Hoss was standing. Hoss handed Ben a piece of paper.
“Gone
to Reno for awhile,” read Ben from the paper. “Will explain later. No
trouble. Be home when I can. Joe Cartwright.”
“Reno?”
said Adam in a puzzled voice. “Why would he go to Reno?”
“Maybe
something came up when he was in Twin Pines,” suggested Hoss.
“What?”
asked Adam in a challenging voice.
Hoss
shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
Adam
turned to Ben who was re-reading the telegram. “Pa, maybe Hoss and I should go
to Reno and find out what this is all about,” suggested Adam.
Ben
didn’t answer for a minute. He looked up at Adam and Hoss, then slowly shook
his head. “No,” he said. “Joe made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t
want us chasing after him or interfering.”
“But
Pa…” started Hoss.
“No,”
interrupted Ben in a firm voice. “Now Joseph is old enough to take care of
himself. He sent us a wire saying there was no trouble, that he had to go to
Reno. There’s no reason to believe he needs our
“All
right,” said Adam in a reluctant voice. “I just hope Joe hasn’t gotten
himself into something that he can’t get out of.”
*************
Joe
was bored.
Joe
laid in bed wondering what he could do to fill the hours until Paul returned
from Twin Pines. Paul had left for Twin Pines yesterday morning, and, at first,
Joe had enjoyed having the time to himself. He slept when he felt like it and
ate whenever he was hungry, helping himself to items from the small feast of
cold chicken, cheese, berries and cookies Paul had carefully left on the table
by the bed. In between, he had read or played chess with himself, doing
whichever activity he had felt was diverting at the time.
For
a day or so, Joe had enjoyed himself, reveling in the freedom to simply do what
he pleased. He could understand why Paul found such a life attractive. But
Joe’s choices of activities were limited, and now he was becoming bored by
those choices. He had slept so much that he couldn’t drop off even if he
wanted to. He wasn’t hungry or thirsty, having eaten his fill from the food on
the table, and drank what he wanted from the bucket of water Paul had left on
the floor by the bed. The book he had bored him, and he was tired of playing
chess with himself.
Looking around the room, Joe tried to think of something to do to fill what seemed
like a long stretch of time until Paul returned. He saw the crutches standing
against the wall next to the bed. He had promised Paul he would use them only if
an emergency occurred and absolutely had to get out of bed. Being bored wasn’t
an emergency, but Joe did feel he absolutely had to get out of bed. If he
didn’t, he’d go crazy.
Throwing back the covers, Joe carefully moved his injured leg off the bed. He
swiveled on the bed until he was sitting on the edge. A new problem suddenly
struck Joe. He had no clothes. All he was wearing was a pair of thin cotton longjohns which had been cut off and neatly hemmed at the thighs.
Joe
pushed himself up off the bed and, balancing his weight on his good leg, hopped
a step from the bed to the crutches.
Placing the crutches under his arms, Joe grabbed the handles jutting out of the
sticks about half-way down with either hand. The crutches were exactly right, as
Joe knew they would be. Paul had measured and fussed with them the night before
he left. The top of the crutches were heavily padded with thick cloth to insure
they wouldn’t chafe. Paul had insisted on making the crutches as perfect as he
could.
Joe
took a tentative step with his good leg, then balanced his weight on the leg as
he pulled the crutches forward. He pushed his weight down on his hands and
pulled the rest of his body through. He experimented with using the crutches
for a few minutes, keeping near the bed in case he lost his balance and began to
fall. After about ten minutes of tentative and slow movement near the bed, Joe
felt he had figured out how to use the crutches. At that point, Joe decided to
go exploring.
Having spent hours staring at the walls and furniture
around him, Joe knew every inch of the bedroom. He was curious about the rest of the house. Moving slowly and
keeping his injured leg off the floor, Joe walked to the door of the bedroom.
The door was slightly ajar. He pushed the door open and went out of the
bedroom.
Joe
walked into a large room that was amazingly well furnished for a house in the
middle of nowhere. A large table of polished wood sat in the middle of the room,
with four beautifully carved chairs around it. Books, pieces of wood and bits of
leather were scattered around on the top of the table. A large stone fireplace
stood against the wall, with a decorated mantle. Some small boxes and a clock
sat on the mantle. A rocking chair with a padded seat sat near the fireplace. A
covered chair stood against the far wall, next to an end table. A lamp stood in
the middle of the table, and small coils of what looked like fishing lines sat
next to the lamp.
To
his right, Joe could see a doorway leading into a small kitchen. Joe could see
the edge of a table and part of another fireplace, this one with what looked
like an oven inserted into it. Joe glanced through the doorway, but decided the
kitchen offered nothing of interest.
Joe
turned slightly. Near the front door stood a tall gun rack with a place for
three rifles. Only two were in place, and Joe assumed Paul had taken the third
rifle with him. Joe could see his own gunbelt resting on a ledge under the
rifles and a drawer which Joe assumed held ammunition fitted into the ledge. The
gun rack stood between the door and a window.
On
the other side of the door stood a tall book case. Most of the shelves held
books, but the two middle shelves were almost empty. One held three finely
carved wood statues of birds. The shelf in the very middle of the bookcase was
empty except for two pictures in ornately decorated wooden frames.
Joe
walked over to take a closer look at the pictures. One was a formal wedding
picture, with a much younger Paul standing next to a dark haired girl seated to
his right. She wore a long dress and veil. Joe wouldn’t have called the girl
beautiful, but she certainly was attractive. The other picture was Paul at about
his current age, standing with his arm affectionately draped over the shoulders
of a boy about sixteen. Both were smiling at the camera and from the blurred
images behind them, Joe guessed the picture had been taken at some type of
carnival or fair. Joe looked closer at the young man. The boy’s head just
barely reached Paul’s shoulder. He was thin, with the look of being all arms
and legs that teenage boys often had. The boy’s hair was dark, thick and
curly, not unlike Joe’s own. He smiled at the camera with an infectious grin.
Joe assumed the boy was David, Paul’s son.
After studying the pictures for a bit, Joe turned to look around the house some more.
He saw a closed door to his left, exactly across the room from the door to
Joe’s bedroom. He assumed that was Paul’s bedroom. Joe ignored the closed
door, feeling that entering the bedroom would violate Paul’s privacy. He
already felt a bit guilty about exploring the house as it was.
Moving to the fireplace, Joe looked at the small boxes on the mantle. One held
matches and another, small pieces of flint. It was the third box which drew
Joe’s attention. The box was bronze with metal scrolling on the top. He opened
the box and looked in side.
A
rather large decorative coin sat on a bedding of dark velvet in the box. Joe
read the lettering on the coin: Tyler Williams, with gratitude. Joe frowned.
Tyler Williams? Who was Tyler Williams? Paul had said his name was Paul Tyler.
Joe picked up the coin and turned it over. The back of the coin simply said St.
Louis Children’s Home and a date about eight years earlier.
Joe
replaced the coin and closed the box thoughtfully. It was none of his business,
he knew, but he was puzzled by the coin. Why did Paul have a coin belonging to
someone else, and why was it displayed so prominently in the room, he wondered.
Slowly, Joe
shook his head. It was Paul’s business why he had the coin. Joe had no right
to pry into the man’s affairs. He had saved Joe’s life and treated Joe with
nothing but kindness. Snooping around Paul’s house was poor payment for all
that Paul had done for him.
Feeling
guilty, Joe decided to return to his bed. His side was beginning to ache a bit
also, and his legs felt tired. Joe had had his little adventure. Now it was time
to return to the solitude of his room.
****************
“Joseph!”
A
voice boomed in anger, waking Joe out of a sound sleep. He stirred on the bed,
turning drowsily toward the voice.
“Joseph!
Wake up!” the voice boomed again.
Half
asleep, Joe wondered what he had done to make his Pa so upset. He must have
overslept and missed breakfast again. As the fogginess of sleep receded, Joe
remembered where he was.
“Joe,
I’m very angry with you,” said Paul, unnecessarily voicing the anger in his
tone.
Turning, Joe looked up at Paul. He was puzzled by the irate look on the man’s
face. “Hello, Paul,” said Joe with a yawn. “When did you get back?”
“Don’t
‘hello Paul’ me,” replied the man standing over the bed. “I thought I
told you to stay in bed.”
“I
did,” replied Joe. Then he flushed as he guilty remembered his little trip
around the house. “Well, mostly I did.”
“Joe,
are you trying to hurt yourself worse or do you just not understand English?”
asked Paul in a biting tone.
Joe’s
lips twitched as he tried to hide a smile. Paul’s question sounded almost
exactly like something his Pa would say. “I’m sorry,”
Paul’s
anger seemed to have cooled. “The bedroom door,” he said. “I knew I left
it almost closed. When I got home, I saw it standing wide open.” Paul took a
deep breath. “I’m sorry, Joe,” he said apologetically. “I shouldn’t
have yelled at you like that. It’s just that, well, when I came home and saw
the bedroom door open, it scared me to death. I thought you had left…I mean,
that something had happened.” Paul added the last phrase in a rush, as if
trying to hastily correct himself. Paul took another deep breath. “I’m
sorry, Joe,” he said again.
“Don’t
worry about it,” said Joe with a smile. “I’m used to it. Happens to me all
the time at home.” Joe shook his head regretfully. “I guess I’m just not
very good at following orders.”
“Most
boys your age aren’t very good at following orders,” said Paul with a slight
frown. He quickly replaced the look with a smile that seemed almost forced.
“The important thing is that you’re all right.”
“I’m
fine,” Joe assured him. “But we do have a problem.”
“Oh?”
said Paul in surprise. “What’s that?”
“I
don’t have any clothes,” said Joe with a grin. “I realized that this
afternoon when I…when I got my exercise. Unless you want me to walk around
almost naked, I’m going to need some clothes.”
Paul
laughed. “Well, we can’t have you walking around naked,” he agreed. “Not
that it would bother me but you’re liable to catch cold.”
Walking over to the chair by the bed, Paul sat down. “Actually, the same thought
occurred to me when I was in town,” said Paul as he settled himself
comfortably into the chair. “When I was buying supplies in the store, it
struck me that you were going to need some things. I bought you a pair of pants
and some shirts. Had to guess at the sizes, but I think I got them about
right.”
“Thank
you,” said Joe. He shook his head. “Seems like all I do is say thanks. Wish
there was some way I could repay you.”
“Well,
there might be,” suggested Paul in a serious voice. He saw Joe looking at him
curiously. “You play cribbage?” he asked abruptly. “I bought a board and a
deck of cards, too. You can repay me by playing cribbage with me.”
Joe
had a feeling that cribbage wasn’t what Paul originally had in mind as
repayment, but he let it go. He knew by now that Paul would tell him only what
Paul wanted him to know. “I play cribbage,” said Joe. “I’m pretty good.
Much better than I am at chess.”
“That’s
not saying much,” said Paul with a grin.
Joe’s
face suddenly grew serious. “Did you get the telegram off to my Pa?” he
asked. “I don’t want him to be worrying about me.”
“Yes, I sent the wire as soon as I got to town yesterday,”
Paul
confirmed. An odd look flashed across his face. “Don’t worry, Joe,”
he said. “Your family won’t be coming to Twin Pines looking for you.”
************
Ben
walked into a silent house. Adam and Hoss had left a few days earlier to deliver
some cattle to a rancher near Reno and Ben knew he faced another lonely dinner.
He put his hat on the peg by the door and walked over to his favorite chair by
the fireplace. Ben decided he needed to do some thinking.
Initially, Ben
had thought about asking Adam and Hoss to check up on Joe in Reno, but had
stopped himself. Sending Joe’s brothers to look for him would only add fuel to
the fire of Joe’s unhappiness and anger.
Ben had promised Joe that he would trust him, and Ben was determined to
keep that promise.
But
his determination didn’t keep Ben from worrying. Joe’s telegram arrived over
a week ago. Ben couldn’t imagine what was keeping Joe in Reno this long. The
sheriff in Reno knew both Joe and Ben, so if anything had happened, Ben would
have heard from him. But still, Ben was concerned. Despite Joe’s displeasure
with his family, it wasn’t like him to stay away from the Ponderosa for so
long.
Sitting by the fire, Ben
wondered how long he should wait before trying to find Joe. It was a fine line
between interfering in Joe’s business and making sure his son was all right.
Joe had been gone almost three weeks. He couldn’t think it unreasonable for a
father to be concerned about his son after such a length of time.
Ben
sighed. He might think it wasn’t unreasonable, but there’s no telling what
Joe would think. Ben knew the situation was delicate. If Joe felt that his
searching for him in Reno was just another sign of Ben’s not trusting him, it
could drive a wedge between father and son that couldn’t be removed. Ben could
lose his youngest son. And that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.
Slowly, Ben
shook his head, wondering what to do. If it were Adam or Hoss, he would have a
better idea of what was right. But Joe was young, impetuous, and volatile. Ben
just didn’t know how Joe would react to his showing up in Reno.
When he heard the front door open, Ben turned in surprise, and his surprise grew when
he saw Adam and Hoss walking hurriedly into the house. He hadn’t expected his
sons back until tomorrow. “You’re back early, boy,” he said in greeting.
“Good trip?”
“We
delivered the cattle fine, Pa,” said Hoss. But his face wore a grim
expression. “But we got a problem. We can’t find Joe.”
“What?”
said Ben in astonishment. Then his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t go into Reno
looking for him, did you?”
Adam
looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, we did, Pa,” he said. He held up his hand,
stopping Ben’s angry comment. “I know what you’re going to say. We
shouldn’t have done it. But Hoss and I got to talking on the trail. We felt
something strange was going on.”
“Strange?”
said Ben, his anger replaced by concern.
“Yeah,
Pa,” said Hoss. “Why would Joe go to Reno like that? And how come he staid
away so long without any word?”
“And
the telegram,” added Adam. “It was signed Joe Cartwright. Why would Joe sign
his last name? He’s never done that before.”
“It
is unusual,” said Ben slowly. “But I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical
explanation.”
“Well,
we couldn’t think of one,” said Adam. “So Hoss and I decided to swing by
Reno after we delivered the cattle. We figured a little conversation with
Sheriff Brady there couldn’t do any harm.” Adam’s face turned grim.
“Brady said he hasn’t seen Joe in months.”
“We
checked the hotel where Joe always stays,” added Hoss. “He wasn’t
registered there. The clerk showed us the registration back almost three months.
Joe wasn’t listed anyplace.”
“Hoss
and I talked to a dozen people,” said Adam, “people who know Joe by sight.
Nobody has seen him.”
“Are
you sure?” asked Ben, his concern growing. “No one had seen him? No one at
all?”
“No
one,” confirmed Adam. He shook his head. “Pa, Joe didn’t go to Reno.”
“But
why would he send us that telegram saying he was going to Reno?” said Ben in
bewilderment. “And if he’s not in Reno, where is he?”
“I
don’t know where Joe is,” said Adam, “but I have a feeling he didn’t
send that telegram. That way it’s worded and signed, well, I don’t think Joe
sent it.”
Ben’s
face grew as grim as his son’s. “If Joe didn’t send that telegram and he
didn’t go to Reno, he could be in some trouble,” said Ben. He looked at Adam
and Hoss. “That telegram came from Twin Pines. First thing in the morning,
we’re going to Twin Pines.”
************
Joe
sat at the table playing cribbage with Paul. He was wearing the light blue shirt
Paul had bought him. It was a bit big on him but not uncomfortable so. The black
pants Paul had bought fit loosely also, but that was a good thing. Joe’s leg
was still bandaged and the looseness of the pants made it easier to get pants
leg over his bandages. Joe’s leg was stretched out, resting on a pillow on top
of another chair. The crutches were lying on the floor near the chair.
“Game!”
said Joe triumphantly as he moved his peg to the end of the cribbage board.
“I
think we need to go back to playing chess,” grumbled Paul. “At least I can
win at that.”
“I
like playing cribbage” said Joe with a wide grin.
“You
mean, you like winning,” said Paul, with a matching grin. “We need to figure
out something that we’re both good at, so at least the game is equal.”
“Or
maybe something that we’re both bad at,” suggested Joe.
Paul
laughed and shook his head. “You do keep me hopping, Joe.”
“Yeah,
that’s what my Pa says,” commented Joe with a smile. “I’m not sure he
means it as a compliment.”
An
odd look crossed Paul’s face for a moment then quickly disappeared. Joe had
seen the look before, usually when he mentioned his Pa. Joe wondered about the
odd look, but the expression came and went so quickly that Joe wasn’t even
sure he really saw it.
Paul
began shuffling the decks of cards. “Let’s play another,” he said.
Paul
had just begun to deal the cards when a voice called from outside the cabin.
“Yo! You in the cabin!” shouted the voice. “Come out here. We got a bone
to pick with you.”
Joe
looked at Paul in surprise. In the almost three weeks he had been at the house,
this was the first time Joe could remember hearing anyone other than Paul. Paul
didn’t look frightened or startled. His expression was one of puzzlement.
Paul
stood on the porch in front of the house and looked at the two men standing in
the yard. The men were dressed as trappers. One wore a coonskin cap with a tail,
and his dirty pants and shirt were made from leather. The other man wore a dark
vest spotted with stains over a faded red shirt. His black pants were stuck into
tall boots and a black had with a wide brim was perched on his head. Both men
carried rifles in their hands.
“Can
I help you?” asked Paul politely.
“Yeah,”
said the man in the coonskin cap. “You can stop messing with our traps.”
Paul
raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think I’ve been ‘messing’ with your
traps?”
“Well,
somebody has been springing them,” muttered the man in the black had.
“That’s
right,” growled the other man. “We’ve been finding our traps sprung and no
animals for a while now. We figured you must be the one doing it. And we don’t
like it.”
“Why
do you think I’m the one?” asked Paul, tilting his head a bit.
“Cause
you’re the only one up here!” said the man in the black hat angrily.
“Ain’t nobody else up here. And you ain’t a trapper or anything. We seen
you just riding around.”
“Gentlemen,
what I do is my own business,” said Paul. He shifted his rifle meaningfully.
“Now I suggest you leave.”
The
two men exchanged glances, and both lifted their rifles. “Them traps are
important to us,” said the man in the coonskin hat, his eyes narrowing. “We
don’t catch nothing, we don’t eat.”
“Yeah,
we got a right to protect what’s ours,” added the other man.
“I’ll
remember that,” said Paul coolly. “Now, once again, I suggest you leave.”
The
man in the black hat looked at his partner and nodded his head slightly. Both
men pointed their rifles toward Paul. Paul quickly pointed his rifle back at the
men.
“Maybe
we’ll give you a little something to help you remember,” sneered the man in
the coonskin hat cocking his rifle.
“I
wouldn’t do that,” warned Paul, cocking his own weapon.
The
man in the black hat snorted. “Ain’t you forgetting something. There’s two
of us and one of you. Think we’ll give you a little reminder and then see
what’s in that fancy house of yours.”
“I
wouldn’t do that,” said a voice from behind Paul.
Paul
glanced over his shoulder. Joe stood in the doorway, his weight balanced
precariously on the crutch under his left shoulder. His pistol was in his right
hand, cocked and pointed at the men in the yard.
The
men in the yard looked at Joe and then looked nervously at each other. One
licked his lips.
For
a moment, there was no movement. The four men pointed guns and stared at each
other, each daring one of the others to make a move.
The
silence was broken by the sound of a low growl from a small black figure
standing at the side of the house. Lucifer stared at the men, teeth bared and
body tensed.
“I
believe the odds are three to two,” said Paul almost formally. “I think
you’d better leave before someone gets hurts.”
The
men in the yard looked at the snarling dog, then at the two men on the porch.
The one in the black hat lowered his gun. “Come on, Harry, let’s get out of
here,” he said in a low voice.
Harry
nodded and lowered his gun. He threw an angry look at the men on the porch, then
started to back away from the house. The
Paul
and Joe stood unmoving on the porch, watching until the two men disappeared into
the woods. Paul lowered his gun, and turned toward the side of the house.
“Good dog, Lucifer,” he said in a loud voice.
Lucifer
looked at Paul and gave a small yelp. Then the dog disappeared around the side
of the house.
Paul
turned to Joe. “I thought I told you to stay inside,” said Paul with a
frown. “I don’t want to be patching up any more holes in you.”
Joe
shrugged and grinned. “I told you I wasn’t very good at following orders.”
His face grew serious. “Do you think they’ll be back?”
Paul
looked toward the woods thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” he said. “Probably
not. But it might not be a bad idea to make ourselves scarce for a day or so.”
He turned to Joe and smiled. “Want to go fishing tomorrow?”
Joe
glanced down. The bandages around his leg peeked out from the bottom of his
pants and his foot was bare. “I’m not sure…” he started in a doubtful
voice.
“There’s
a stream not too far from here that’s just filled with trout,” interrupted
Paul. “I can get you on my horse and have you there in no time.” Paul’s
smile widened. “Sitting by a stream holding a fishing pole never hurt
anyone.”
Joe
grinned in response. “Sounds great!” he replied enthusiastically. “I have
to admit I’m starting to get cabin fever. I think I’ve forgotten what the
sun feels like.”
“Then
it’s agreed,” said Paul in a firm voice but with a smile. “Tomorrow we go
catch ourselves some trout for dinner.”
**************
Ben
rode his buckskin horse slowly down the street of Twin Pines, with Adam and Hoss
following behind him. Ben’s face had a tired, worried look on it. Adam and
Hoss looked grim.
Stopping his horse by the hitching post in front of building with a large sign
saying simply “Saloon”, Ben dismounted. He tied the reins to the hitching post
and ducked under the rail to the other side then waited a moment while Adam and
Hoss followed suit.
“What
do you want to do now, Pa?” asked Hoss.
“I’m
not sure,” answered Ben. He shook his head. “I was sure Ferguson would have
some idea where Joe might have gone.”
“But
he didn’t,” said Adam grimly. “You heard what he said. Last time he saw
Joe was over three weeks ago, riding out of town. He was surprised when you told
him Joe never made it home.”
Ben
looked around the town. “Adam, why don’t you check with the sheriff. Hoss,
you check the hotel. I’m going down to the telegraph office.” Ben glanced at
the building behind him. “We’ll meet inside the saloon.”
Adam
and Hoss nodded. The three men starting walking, each headed in a different
direction.
Less
than an hour later, Adam walked into the saloon. He glanced around the bar and
saw Ben and Hoss sitting at a table in the middle of the room. Three beers sat
on the table. None of the beers had been touched.
“Any
luck?” said Adam as he slid into a chair at the table.
Hoss
shook his head. “No. Joe checked out of the hotel almost a month ago. The
clerk hasn’t seen him since.”
“The
telegrapher is sure Joe wasn’t the one who sent the wire,” said Ben in a
grim tone. “When I described Joe to him, he was positive he hadn’t seen
him.”
“Does
he know who did send the telegram?” asked Adam.
“He
doesn’t remember,” said Ben glumly. “He said he’d think about it and let
me know if anything came to him.” Ben turned to Adam. “Did the sheriff know
anything?” he asked hopefully.
Adam
shook his head. “No. He hasn’t seen Joe and he hasn’t heard anything that
might give us a clue. The only unusual thing that’s happened around here in a
month is finding a body up in the woods.”
Seeing the stricken look on Ben and Hoss’ face, Adam added hastily, “It wasn’t Joe. The sheriff knew the man. Said his name was Weaver.”
“What else did the sheriff tell you?”
Ben asked, his eyes fixed on his oldest son's face.
Adam
took a deep breath, not surprised that his father could tell he was holding
something back. Ben Cartwright could usually read his sons like a book.
“This
Weaver, he was a pretty nasty piece of work,” said Adam slowly. “Evidently,
he had a history of following people who were carrying money. Sheriff thinks he
bushwhacked three or four, although he couldn’t prove it. Anyway, the sheriff
said he rode up to where the body was found. He said there were some other
tracks up there, and some dried blood that didn’t look like it came from
Weaver.” Adam shook his head. “There was not way to tell where the
other…tracks came from.”
“No
sign of…anyone else?” asked Ben.
“No,”
replied Adam. “The sheriff said he looked all around the area. There was
nothing to tell him who the other man was or where he went.” Adam shrugged.
“The body was almost a week dead when it was found. Sheriff figures whoever
else was up there was long gone.”
“What
now?” asked Hoss.
Ben
stared at the untouched beers on the table. “We’re going to start asking
questions,” he said firmly. “We’ll talk to every person in this town if we
have to. Somebody must know something.”
“And
if they don’t?” said Adam.
“Then
we’ll start riding, and we’ll keep riding until we find him,” answered Ben
in a grim voice.
“Pa,
there’s a whole lot of land between here and the Ponderosa,” said Hoss in a
tentative voice. “Those mountains alone could take six months to search.”
“Then
we’ll spend six months searching,” replied Ben. “We’re not going home
until we find Joe.”
********************
Joe
watched as the fishing line floated lazily in the water. He was stretched out on
the soft grass next to the wide stream, leaning comfortably against a small
hill. Occasionally, he moved his fishing pole to give the hook under the water
some movement, but mostly Joe was just enjoying the pleasantly warm sun.
Sitting a few feet away, Paul's fishing was more purposeful. He was seated upright and
he moved his pole regularly. Six trout laid on the grass next to him.
Occasionally, Paul would look over to Joe, and an indulgent smile would cross
his face.
“This
is the life,” said Joe as he watched his line in the water.
“It
is, isn’t it,” agreed Paul with a smile.
“I
sure am going to hate going home,” added Joe.
Paul
didn’t answer for a minute. He moved his pole twice. “You don’t have to go
home, Joe,” said Paul, not looking at Joe.
Joe
turned his head. “What?” he asked in surprise.
“I
said, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” answered Paul. He
turned to Joe and smiled. “I like you, boy. I like having you around. You’re
welcome to stay permanently if you want.”
Frowning a bit,
Joe thought about the other man’s offer, and the relaxed, almost lazy lifestyle
that Paul lived. He was briefly tempted. But after a few minutes thought, Joe
shook his head. “Thanks, Paul, but no. I have to go home.”
“Why?”
asked Paul. “You told me you were unhappy there. That your Pa and brothers
treated you poorly. Why go back? Why not just stay here with me?”
Joe
looked at Paul in surprise. He had forgotten he had told the man about his
disagreement with his family. In fact, he had forgotten about the disagreement.
Looking back on it now, the whole incident seemed petty to him. “I might have
exaggerated the situation a bit,” admitted Joe. “I didn’t like what they
did, but I know they only did it because they cared. My Pa and brothers, well,
we all look out for each other. We’re family, Paul, and you don’t turn your
back on family.”
“Some
people do,” said Paul in a bitter voice.
Joe
raised his eyebrows at Paul’s comment, unsure what to say. “Why don’t you
come back with me?” he urged Paul. “You could stay at the ranch for awhile.
I know you’d like my Pa. And my brother Adam has probably got even more books
than you do. You two would hit it right off. And Hoss, well, if you think
you’re a good fisherman, then you should see my brother fish.”
“Good,
eh,” said Paul, not looking at Joe.
“The
best,” said Joe with a smile. “Come back to the Ponderosa with me, Paul.”
“I
can’t do that, Joe,” said Paul, continuing to stare at the water.
“Why
not?” asked Joe. “Why do you stay up here, Paul? Why have you cut yourself
off like this?”
Paul
continued to stare at the water. He obviously was considering his answer.
“I
was a teacher, Joe, a professor at a college in St. Louis,” said Paul slowly.
“I was well respected, active in the community, had a good life. Then one
night, I had an argument with my wife. Nothing serious, just some trivial thing
that we both let get blown out of proportion. I stormed out of the house, and
went to a nearby park to take a walk and cool off. About an hour later, I came
home. The front door was open. I walked in and found my wife.” Paul turned to
look at
“I’m
sorry,” said Joe with genuine sympathy.
“One
of the neighbors saw the open door,” continued Paul. “They went out and
found a policeman. The policeman came to the door and saw me bending over my
wife’s body. Next thing I knew I had been arrested for her murder. I kept
telling them I was innocent but no one believed me. No one, except my son
David.”
“I
sat in that miserable jail for almost three months, waiting for a trial,” Paul
said, his voice filled with bitterness. “The only person who came to see me,
besides my lawyer, was David. None of our friends, none of my college
associates, no one came to visit.”
“How
did you get out?” asked Joe.
“David
kept searching for someone, anyone, who had seen me in the park that night,”
answered Paul. “The police didn’t believe my story, so they didn’t bother
to look. But David did. He finally found a young couple who admitted to seeing
me. They had kept quiet because the man was married to someone else. David
finally convinced him to tell the truth, and the woman confirmed his story. The
police finally let me go.”
“What
happened then?” asked Joe. “How did you end up here?”
“My
arrest made front page news,” explained Paul. “But my release was a small
story on page four. When I returned home, I found most people were surprised to
see me. My position at the college had been taken by someone else, because the
dean was sure I was guilty. Our so-called friends avoided me. Even people on the
street would point and whisper when they recognized me from my picture in the
paper.” Paul shook his head. “It was intolerable, Joe.
My life was in ruins. My wife was dead, I had no job, and everywhere I
went, people treated me like a pariah. So David and I loaded up a couple of
wagons with everything we could carry. We set off for the West, looking for
place with no people, no one who would point their finger at me and stare. We
finally ended up here.”
Paul
looked away, as if remembering. “David and I spent six months building the
house. We slept in the wagons, or under the stars if the weather was nice. We
built ourselves a house that was comfortable and had everything we wanted. And
we built it where there no other people. I vowed never to go back to the
so-called civilized world. And I’ve kept that vow.”
“Did
they ever find out who killed your wife,” asked Joe.
“No,”
said Paul with a shake of his head. “I
figure it was a thief, someone who broke into the house thinking it was empty.
My wife must have surprised him and he killed her.”
“What
happened to David?” asked Joe.
A
pained look crossed Paul’s face. “He’s gone now,” he said. Paul pulled
his fishing line out of the water. “We’d better head back,” he said
abruptly.
“Paul,
I’m sorry for what happened to you, but you can’t stay up here forever,”
said Joe. “Come back to the Ponderosa with me. It will be different there, I
promise. No one will point fingers at you. No one will treat you with anything
but respect.”
“No,”
said Paul firmly.
“Paul…”started
Joe.
“I
said no!” shouted Paul. “Don’t you ever listen to me, boy? I said we’re
staying here and that’s final!” Paul threw his fishing pole on the ground in
an angry gesture. “I’ll go get the horse,” he said, turning and walking
swiftly up the hill.
Joe
watched Paul walking over to where the horse was tied. He felt sorry for the
man. He also felt sad. Paul was an intelligent, talented man. It was sad that
the society had turned its back on him and robbed themselves of such a man.
Paul
led the horse to the hill near where Joe sat. “I’ll help you on,” he said
in a curt tone.
“I
think I can manage,” said Joe, struggling to his feet.
“Don’t
argue with me, boy,” said Paul in an angry voice. He reached out and grabbed
Joe’s arm, almost pulling him up the hill. Joe winced as he bumped his leg.
Paul didn’t seem to notice. He pulled Joe toward him.
Joe
grunted as his weight shifted onto his injured leg. “Wait a second,” he said
as his a pain shot up his leg.
Paul
looked startled. “I’m sorry, Joe,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t
mean to hurt you. Are you all right?”
Joe
nodded, although his leg continued to hurt. “I’ll be all right,” he
answered but his voice was strained.
“Let
me help you up on the horse,” suggested Paul. “Get your weight of that
leg.” Joe nodded again.
Paul
helped Joe climb up into the saddle and made sure he was comfortable. He handed
Joe the reins. “I’ll get the poles and the fish,” Paul said, turning and
walking down the hill.
Joe
watched as Paul gathered the poles and picked up the string of fish from the
ground. He thought about the flash of anger he had seen in the other man. The
sudden mood change confused Joe. It also frightened him a bit.
**************
Ben
Cartwright walked into the saloon in Twin Pines, his face grim. He saw his sons
waiting for him at the table in the middle of the room. Ben ignored the few
other people in the saloon – two men lazily playing cards at another table and
two trappers standing drinking at the bar.
“Did
you find out anything?” Ben asked as he sat down.
Adam
and Hoss looked at each other. “No,” Adam admitted. “I talked with
everyone in every building on the south side of town. No one has seen Joe since
he left here a few weeks ago.”
“And
I covered everything on the north side,” said Hoss. “Same answer.”
Ben
slumped in his chair. “I checked every ranch and farm outside of town,” he
said. “Nothing.” Ben looked at
his sons. “Where could he be?” he asked, knowing Adam and Hoss had no
answer.
“Mr.
Cartwright?”
Ben
looked up to see a man walking rapidly into the saloon. “Mr. Cartwright, I
thought I saw you riding into town,” said the man as he walked up to the
table.
For
a minute, Ben wasn’t sure who the man was. Then his face cleared.
“Mr. Barrett,” replied Ben in recognition. Ben turned to Adam and
Hoss. “Mr. Barrett runs the telegraph office.”
“I’ve
been thinking about that telegram you asked about,” said Barrett. “The one
from your son. I finally remembered who sent it.”
“Who?”
asked Ben eagerly.
“Well,
I’m not sure of the fellow’s name,” answered Barrett slowly. “He’s
kind of an odd fellow. Lives up in the mountains. He comes to town from time to
time to pick up supplies but he makes his visits to town as short as possible.
Never stays a minute longer than he has to.”
“Are
you sure he’s the one who sent the telegram?” asked Adam with a frown.
“I’m
sure,” replied Barrett positively. “I remember last night. When he gave me
the telegram to send, I was surprised at the name. The name on the bottom of the
telegram was Joe Cartwright. But I know the fellow’s name isn’t Joe. It’s
kind of a different name, like Taylor or Tyler or something like that.”
“Did
he say anything when he sent the telegram?” asked Adam.
“Nope,”
said Barrett, shaking his head. “Just wrote it out, paid me the money and
left.”
“What
does he look like?” asked Ben.
Barrett
rubbed his chin. “Well, he’s about your age. White hair, white beard. Has
kind of a weathered look, like he spends a lot of time outdoors. Like I said, he
lives up in the mountains someplace.”
“Is
he a trapper or something?” asked Hoss.
“I
don’t think so,” answered Barrett slowly. “He dresses more like a rancher,
than a trapper. I’ve never seen him with any pelts.”
“He
ain’t no trapper,” said one of the men standing at the bar.
Ben
turned to the man with a look of surprise. “Do you know him?” he asked.
The
man at the bar was wearing a black hat with a wide brim, and the man next to him
sported a coonskin cap. “Harry and me had a run in with him the other day,”
said the man in the black hat. “He’s been springing our traps. We told him
to stop.”
“Do
you know where he lives?” said Ben, his hope growing.
“He
lives in some fancy house up in the mountains,” replied the trapper. “He and
some young fellow.”
“Young
fellow?” repeated Ben. “What does the young fellow look like?”
The
trapper shrugged. “About twenty, dark hair,” said the man. “Didn’t get a
real good look at the boy.”
“That
would be his son,” said Barrett. “I’ve seen the boy with his father a time
or two in town.”
Ben’s
face reflected his disappointment. He had hoped…Ben shook his head. The man or
his son must know something about Joe. It was the first glimmer of a lead.
“Can you tell us how to find this place?” he asked the men at the bar.
The
two looked at each other. “It ain’t easy to describe,” admitted the man in
the coonskin hat.
“How
about leading us there?” suggested Hoss.
The
man in the black hat shook his head. “Can’t do it,” he said. “Me and
Harry got to be over in Corinth day after tomorrow. Got a job waiting.” The
trapper didn’t want to admit that he had no desire to face the two armed men
in the mountains again. “We’ll do our best to tell you how to get there.”
Adam’s
face looked thoughtful as the trappers described how to find the house in the
mountains. He didn’t say anything as Ben thanked the telegrapher and bought
the two men at the bar a beer.
As
Ben settled back in his chair, he looked at Adam. “What’s wrong, son?” he
asked.
“Something
that the telegrapher said,” answered Adam. “About the man’s son.”
“What
about it?” asked Hoss.
“Well,
every place I went, I asked if anything unusual had happened lately, something
that seemed out of place,” replied Adam. “I thought maybe I could pick up
some clue on Joe that way. You know, something that might mean something to us
that no one else thought much about. Anyway, the clerk at the store told me
about the man the telegrapher described. Said he was in a few weeks ago buying
supplies. He also bought some clothes.”
“What’s
so odd about that?” asked Hoss
“Well,
the clerk said the clothes were obviously for someone other than this fellow,”
answered Adam. “He told me at first he thought the man was buying some clothes
for his son. But then he decided that couldn’t be.”
“Why
not?” asked Ben.
“The
clerk told me the man’s son wasn’t around any more,” said Adam. “He told
me the son took a stage back East about six months ago.”
****************
Joe
sat back in his chair and gave a satisfied grunt. “That fish sure tasted
good,” he said, rubbing his stomach. “I ate almost as much as my brother
Hoss would.”
Paul
didn’t answer. As always when Joe mentioned his family, he grew silent.
Joe
bit his lip, hesitant about what he wanted to say next. “I’ve been thinking,
Paul,” he said slowly. “I think it’s time for me to leave.”
Paul’s
head jerked up. “You’re not well enough to leave,” he said.
“I
can’t walk too good,” Joe admitted. “But I sure can sit a horse. I thought
if you lent me a horse, I could travel down to Twin Pines. I can send my Pa a
telegram from there, and he can come get me.”
“No,”
said Paul in a flat voice. He stood abruptly and began collecting the plates off
the table.
“Paul,
I have to leave,” said Joe in a persuasive voice. “Now is just as good a
time as any.”
“You’re
not leaving,” said Paul. He banged the plates back down on the table.
“You’re not leaving me alone again.”
Joe
frowned. “I’ve got to leave,” he said, his voice rising in anger. “I
can’t stay here.”
“You’re
staying,” shouted Paul. “You were sent here to me and I’m going to keep
you here.”
“I
wasn’t ‘sent here’ to you,” said Joe. “You found me in the woods,
remember.”
“Same
thing,” answered Paul. “I lost one son. I was given another. I’m not going
to lose a son again.”
“Paul,
listen to me,” urged Joe.
“Don’t
Pa, me,” said Paul in an angry voice. “You never listen to your Pa. You
always want to do what you want. You want to go live in the city. I told you
know but you wouldn’t listen. Well, this time, you’re going to listen to me
and obey your Pa.” Paul abruptly turned his back to Joe.
Joe
looked at the man in astonishment. He looked up and saw the box on the mantle,
remembering the name on the coin. He frown as he thought about it, and then his
face cleared as he suddenly understood.
“Your
name isn’t Paul, is it,” said Joe. “You had me call you Paul because it
sounded like Pa.”
Paul
whirled around. “What difference does it make,” he said with a frown.
“It
makes a difference,” replied Joe. He looked at the man, not sure what to call
him. “I’m not your son. You’re not my Pa.”
“I
am,” insisted the man. “I’m your Pa now. It’s time you accepted that.
You’re my son and you’re going to obey me. You’re not leaving.”
Joe
pushed back the chair and stood, putting his weight on his hands as he leaned
against the table. “What happened to your son?” he demanded. “What
happened to David?”
The
man stared at Joe. “He wouldn’t listen to me,” he said. “He said he was
tired of living up here all alone. I told him that being up here was best, that
he would be hurt if he was around other people. He didn’t listen.” The man
looked away. “I came back from hunting one day and he was gone.”
“You
can’t force someone to stay where they don’t want to be,” said Joe in a
quiet voice.
The
man looked back to Joe. “I made a mistake with David,” he said. “I’m not
making the same mistake twice. I’m not going to let you leave.”
The
man suddenly rushed around the table to Joe. Joe put up a hand defensively, not
sure what the man would do. The man knocked Joe’s hand aside, and grabbed Joe
under the arms.
“I’m
going to make sure you don’t leave,” said the man as he began dragging Joe
across the room.
Joe
struggled to free himself but the man’s grip was strong and Joe’s injured
leg still couldn’t support him. As the man dragged Joe toward the bedroom,
Joe’s injured leg bounced and buckled against the floor. Pain shot up Joe’s
leg and he let out a cry of pain.
The
man ignored Joe’s cry and continued to drag him across the room. When he
reached the bedroom, he pushed Joe inside, throwing Joe to the floor. Joe yelled
in pain again as his leg hit the hard floor.
“You’re
going to stay in your room until you come to your senses,” said the man. He
pulled the door shut. Joe heard a lock click closed.
Joe
laid on the floor, rubbing his injured leg. He was confused about the turn of
events. He was grateful to the man he thought of as Paul, but his gratitude
wasn’t strong enough to devote his life to the man.
Paul
was mad, insane, thought Joe. Not the raving lunatic kind of insane, but still
possessing a madness that prevented him from seeing the truth. Paul thought that
Joe was somehow sent to replace the son who had left him, and nothing Joe could
say or do would convince him otherwise.
Joe
shook his head in sadness. He wondered if living up here all alone had caused
the madness or whether it was the ordeal of being jailed for his wife’s
murder. Probably a little bit of both, Joe decided.
Pulling himself up slowly from the floor, Joe limped slowly to the bed. Walking
still hurt his leg. Joe eased himself onto the bed. He needed to think, to plan.
He had to get away from the man in the other room. He just didn’t know how to
do it.
*************
The
rattle of dishes and the loud click of the lock woke Joe. He looked around the
sunlit room in drowsy confusion. He remembered laying on the bed in the dark,
thinking about what to do. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep.
Joe
looked up as the door opened and the man came into a room carrying a tray.
“Good morning,” said the man cheerfully. Joe’s eyebrows rose in the
surprise.
“I
brought you breakfast,” continued the man, handing the tray to Joe. “Your
favorite - blueberry pancakes.”
Joe
looked at the plate on the tray. Three fluffy pancakes covered in blueberries
and sauce sat on the plate. Black
coffee sloshed in a cup on the corner of the tray. The food smelled good, and
Joe realized how hungry he was. Joe looked up at the man. “Thanks,” he said
in a wary tone.
The
man settled himself with familiarity into the chair next to the bed.
“I’m
sorry about last night,” he said in a contrite voice as he watched Joe eat.
“I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
Joe
moved his leg a big and winced. “I’m a little sore,” he admitted. “But
I’ll be all right.”
“I’m
sorry, really I am, “ said the man, his voice full of regret. He looked at
Joe. “I don’t want us to be enemies.”
Joe
said nothing and continued to eat.
“It’s
a good life up here,” mused the man. “It really is. Plenty of time to fish
or hunt, time to read, time to think. A man can do whatever he wants.”
“Except
leave,” said Joe.
The
man frowned. “I was hoping you had come to your senses,” he said. “I can
see that you haven’t.”
“Paul,”
said Joe, not knowing what else to call the man. “I’m not going to stay
here. You can’t keep me here. Somehow, some way, I’ll find a way to
leave.” Joe ate the last bit of the pancakes. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“You’re
welcome,” said the man. He took the tray and stood. “Joe, you’re staying
with me. You might as well get used to the idea. It will make things easier on
both of us.”
Joe
looked away and didn’t answer.
“All
right,” said the man with a sigh. “I’m going to lock you in your room. I
hate to do it, but it’s the only way for now.”
Joe
looked at the man and frowned. He didn’t like the sound of “for now.”
“What do you plan to do?” he asked.
“I’m
not sure,” admitted the man. “I need to think about it. When I was in jail,
they used leg irons to keep men from trying to escape. The chains are
uncomfortable, but they are effective.”
Joe’s
frown disappeared and a look of alarm crossed his face. “You don’t mean to
chain me up,” he said.
“I
don’t want to you,” the man answered with a shake his head. “But it may be
the only answer. I need to think on it.” The man turned and walked out of the
room. Joe heard the lock click on the door.
Laying back on the bed, Joe thought hard. Last night, he had decided to wait until
his leg was stronger before trying to escape. He wasn’t sure how far he could
walk in his present condition. But the talk of leg irons changed Joe’s
thinking. He couldn’t wait. He had to try to leave now.
Joe
reached under the bed and pulled out the boot for his left foot. He hadn’t
tried to wear the boot since he had been caught in the trap. The low half of his
leg was still a bit swollen. Now, he slipped on the sock that had been stuck in
the boot, and slowly eased on the boot. The top of the boot was tight against
his leg. The swelling and bandages pressed his leg tight against the leather.
Swing his legs off the bed, Joe stood. He winced at the pain that resulted from
putting weight on his leg. Joe stood still for a minute, and the pain eased a
bit. He took a step forward and limped slowly across the room.
As he
stopped by the window, Joe studied it. The window was small, but big enough for
him to climb through. It stood about chest high on the wall. The shutters were
half open, and Joe pushed the shutters until they were flush against the wall.
Grabbing the bottom of the window, Joe pulled himself up. He eased his head and
chest through the window, then half fell, and half dove to the ground outside.
Joe
had tried to curl his body as he fell, but the fall still stunned him a bit. He
laid still, both to catch his breath and to listen for any sign of detection.
After a minute, he pulled himself to his feet and started to limp across the
ground toward the woods.
Joe
was about ten feet from the house when he heard the growl. He looked over his
shoulder. Lucifer was standing near the house, watching him. Joe took a deep
breath and headed toward the woods as fast as his injured leg would allow him.
Lucifer
saw him continue to move and that seemed to anger the dog. He began to bark
loudly, and started to run toward Joe. Joe started to run, moving with an
awkward gait as he tried to keep as much weight off his leg as possible.
The
barking attracted the man’s attention and he burst out of the front door of
the house. He saw Joe disappearing into the woods, with Lucifer in pursuit.
“Lucifer!
Come here!” the man shouted, fearful that the dog might injure his new son.
Lucifer
skidded to a stop, and looked back to the house. He turned to look toward the
woods, obviously confused about what to do.
“Lucifer!
Come!” shouted the man again.
The
dog looked to the woods and saw the figure disappearing through the trees.
Satisfied that he had frightened off the intruder, Lucifer turned and trotted
back to the house.
The
man walked down to the dog and patted the animal on the head.
“Good
dog,” he said. He looked toward the woods, his expression suddenly sad.
“Fool boy,” he said to the dog. “He can’t get far, and he’s
liable to hurt himself. I’ll have to go and bring him back.” The man looked
back to the house, indecision on his face. He gave a sigh and walked back to the
door. He reached inside and pulled a rifle from the rack by the door. Then he
turned and headed across the yard. “Lucifer, stay!” he shouted at the dog
who had begun to follow him. Lucifer stopped, then sat down on his haunches. The
man nodded briefly, then headed into the woods.
Joe
walked through the thick brush as quickly as his sore leg would allow him. He
had heard the man call the dog back, and was grateful for that. He had a feeling
that if he tried to take on Lucifer, the dog would win.
Joe
was breathing hard, and his leg was beginning to ache. He decided to stop and
rest.
Resting his back against a tree, Joe
eased himself to the ground. Now that he had a
minute to think, he realized he had no idea where he was. He had no idea how to
get to Twin Pines.
Joe
cursed himself for his foolishness. He should have waited, should have figured
out a way to get the man to tell him how to get to Twin Pines.
He had acted rashly.
Shaking his head, Joe
smiled ruefully. Maybe his Pa and his brothers were right
after all, he thought. Maybe he really did need someone to watch over him. For
sure, he hadn’t done a very good job of watching out for himself lately.
Suddenly, Joe
heard the sound of something moving through the woods. He wasn’t sure if it
was the man or an animal, but he wasn’t going to wait for whatever it was to
find him. Joe pulled himself up and started walking, moving as quietly as he
could. He glanced up at the sun. He knew Twin Pines had been to the east of
where he had been caught in the trap. For want of a better direction, Joe headed
east.
********
“Pa,
we’re lost,” declared Hoss as he pulled his horse to a stop.
Ben
looked around him. The trees and bushes grew in thick bunches and the grass was
tall. There was no sign that anyone had been in the area recently. “We must
have taken a wrong turn someplace,” said Ben.
“Those
directions we got weren’t exactly the clearest,” said Adam with a wry look.
Nodding absentmindedly, Ben looked around again. “Let’s go back to where the
trail forked,” he said. “Maybe we can figure out where we went wrong.” He
turned his horse and started back through the trees.
Adam
waited a minute for Hoss to ride up next to him. “Don’t you think we’re
going to find this place?” he asked Hoss.
“I
don’t know, Adam,” replied Hoss. “But I sure am going to try. Joe needs
our help, whether he knows it or not. And he’s going to get it.
***********
Joe
walked with a painful limp through the woods, his shirt damp with sweat. He
wasn’t sure how long he had been walking, but each step seemed to make his leg
ache more. The muscles torn by the teeth of the bear trap had only partially
healed. Now weight and exertion were
As he moved through the brush, Joe
grew thirsty, and he knew he was tiring. The pain in his leg seemed to be sapping
his strength. He thought about stopping, about simply letting the man find him
but rejected the thought. Somehow, Joe knew if he didn’t escape now, he would
never get another chance. He was more willing to face the pain and danger
His pace slowing, Joe
walked on. He was breathing hard, and his mouth was open as
his body sought more air. Rivulets of sweat ran into his eyes, and Joe wiped
them away with the sleeve of his shirt.
Joe
tried to walk faster, tried to force himself to cover more ground. He knew he
wasn’t moving quietly, that he was making enough noise that his pursuer could
easily follow him. Trying to lose the man in the woods was no longer an option.
Joe’s only hope was to try to find someplace to hide.
As he forced himself onward, Joe’s
eyes searched the woods, hoping to find something
that would offer him cover. Trees and bushes stood all around him but nothing
that would offer the type of cover he was seeking.
Joe
was searching for cover and not watching the ground. His foot hit a root,
tripping him to the ground. Joe landed with a soft thud, and laid still.
He
should get up, he should keep moving, though Joe. But his body wouldn’t obey.
He was too tired, too thirsty, too sore. So Joe simply laid on the ground and
waited for the inevitable.
The
sound of someone moving through the woods was coming closer. Joe could hear the
brush being moved aside. He laid on the ground, gasping for air, and tried to
reconcile himself to being caught.
“Joe!”
Joe
lifted his head and turned toward the voice. He thought he was imagining the
voice. He looked up and saw his father dismounting from his familiar buckskin
horse.
“Pa?”
said Joe in astonishment. He felt tears of joy and relief filling his eyes.
“Pa,” repeated Joe in an exhausted tone.
Grabbing the canteen from his saddle, Ben rushed over to the figure on the ground.
He uncorked the canteen and handed it to his son.
When
his thirst was at last eased, Joe lowered the canteen. “Pa,” said Joe again
in a choked voice. “How did you find me?”
“Joe,
we’ve been looking for you for days,” replied Ben, his voice equally choked.
“We heard about this house in the mountains, but we couldn’t find it.
Finally, we separated. Adam and Hoss are looking for you, too.”
Joe
slumped in exhaustion and Ben put his arms around his son’s shoulders. He
hugged Joe against him. “Joe, what happened to you, son,” he asked.
Closing his eyes, Joe wondered where to start. “Some fellow jumped me on the
trail,” said Joe. “Tried to rob me. There was some shooting. I killed him,
but he nicked me in the side with a bullet. The horses ran off, and I started
walking toward Twin Pines. Along the way, I managed to get myself caught in a
bear trap.”
Ben’s
eyes widen as Joe talked. “When did this all happen?” he asked.
“A
couple of weeks ago,” replied Joe in a tired voice. “This man found me, took
me back to his place. He took care of me.” Joe stopped, wondering how to
explain the man to his father. “Everything was fine until I figured out he
wasn’t going to let me leave. Not ever.
Slowly, Joe
laid his head against his father’s shoulder. Joe felt the familiar arm around
him, and he smelled the faint aroma that was distinctly Ben. Joe’s eyes began
to well with tears again as he realized he was safe at last in his father’s
arms. “Pa,” said Joe, beginning to cry. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“I’m
happy to see you, son,” said Ben in a soothing voice. He had a hundred
questions, but decided they could wait. He could see Joe was exhausted, his face
etched with pain. All he wanted to do was take his son home. Explanations could
wait.
“Take
your hands off my son!”
Ben’s
head snapped toward the voice and Joe lifted his head at the sound.
The
man stood a few feet away, his rifle pointed at the pair on the ground. “I
said, take your hands off my son,” repeated the man.
Ben
didn’t move. His eyes narrowed and a hard look came onto his face. “This is
MY son,” he said.
The
man’s eyes widened in surprise. “Your son?” he said in astonishment.
“Yes,”
replied Ben. “I’m Ben Cartwright. I’ve been looking for my son for a long
time. Now that I’ve found him, I’m going to take him home.”
The
man hesitated, unsure what to do. “I wouldn’t want to separate a father from
a son,” he said slowly. But then a determined look crossed the man’s face.
“You have two others sons,” he said to Ben. “I have none. None but the one
you’re holding.”
“He’s
not your son,” said Ben firmly.
“Yes
he is,” insisted the man. “I found him, I cared for him. He’s mine.”
“My
son is not some stray dog you can claim,” declared Ben. “He’s a boy. He
has a family. He’s going back to his family.”
“No!”
shouted the man. “He’s mine! I need him. I have to have him with me. I’ll
make him want to stay with me!”
“You
can’t make anyone want to stay with you,” said Ben in a quiet voice.
“Especially not a son. You have to love your sons enough to give them room to
grow. You have to love them enough to let them go if they want to.”
The
man stared at Ben as he thought about Ben’s words. “But I don’t want to be
alone,” said the man in almost a pleading voice.
“You
don’t have to be alone,” said Joe quietly. “It’s your choice.”
The
man looked at Joe in anger. “You don’t know anything about it,” he said.
“I
know you chose to live in those mountains,” replied Joe in a tired voice. He
closed his eyes and winced in pain. Then he looked up. “It’s your choice.
It’s not mine.”
The
anger on the man’s face was replaced with a pleading look. “Come home,
son,” he urged Joe. “Please. Come home.”
Joe’s
body sagged against Ben’s. “I am home,” said Joe in a barely audible
voice.
The
man looked at Joe and realized his pleas were in vain. He turned to stare at
Ben. The man slowly lowered his rifle. “I was lucky enough to have your son
for a little while,” said the man. “I guess I always knew, deep down, I
couldn’t make him stay.” The man looked at Joe, then back to Ben. “You
found your son. I guess now I have to find mine.”
The
man turned and started to walk back into the woods. He stopped and turned back
once more. “Good-bye, son,” he said to Joe. Then he disappeared into the
woods.
******************
Ben
walked from the kitchen toward the living room. He stopped just before entering
the room and smiled to himself. Joe was stretched out on the sofa, reading.
Ben watched Joe for a minute, savoring the sight.
The
memory of finding Joe in the woods a week ago was still fresh in Ben’s mind.
He could still see himself helping an exhausted Joe onto his horse, and he could
almost feel his son resting against him as they rode slowly through the trees to
meet Adam and Hoss at the fork in the trail. Joe had slept during most of the
ride to Twin Pines, and then spent another day sleeping in the hotel room in
town. Joe had seemed unusually quiet during the ride in the rented buckboard
back to the ranch, and Ben had worried until he got his son home.
Doctor
Martin had checked Joe, and declared that a week or two of
“Joseph,
take your feet off the furniture,” said Ben as he started into the room.
Joe
looked up and hastily swung his feet off the sofa. “Yes sir,” he said
quickly. Joe watched as Ben walked to his favorite chair by the fireplace and
sat down. “Where’d you go this morning?” asked Joe curiously. “When I
came down for breakfast, Hop Sing said you had gone out.” Joe was still
sleeping late, taking advantage of the opportunity to stay in bed until
mid-morning while he could. Joe knew in another week, his brief vacation from
work would be over.
“Oh,
I just rode out to take a look at that dam that Adam and Hoss are building on
Willow Creek,” said Ben.
Joe
grinned impishly. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one you check up
on.”
“I
was not checking up on them,” Ben said firmly. “I just rode out to see if
they had everything they needed.”
“Uh
huh,” said Joe, his voice reflecting his disbelief.
Ben
looked at Joe, then smiled. “All right,” he admitted, “maybe I was doing a
little checking. It’s a father’s right to check on his sons.” As soon as
Ben said the words, he regretted them. He looked at Joe a bit fearfully.
“Don’t
worry, Pa,” Joe reassured Ben. “It took me a while, but I finally figured
out that having someone keep an eye on you isn’t all bad. Keeps a fellow from
getting himself into a heap of trouble.” Joe’s face suddenly sobered. “Do
you think Paul went looking for his son?” he asked.
“I
don’t know,” said Ben with a shake of his head. “From what you said, I
think that the man you called Paul was pretty confused. I’m not sure he knows
what he wants.” Ben smiled at Joe. “Except maybe wanting you as a son.”
“Having
one father is quite enough, thank you,” said Joe. “I don’t think I could
survive having two.” Joe grinned. “There are days, I bet, when you wish you
could give me away.”
Ben’s
face grew sober. “No, Joe,” he said in a serious voice. “I may get angry
with you, or exasperated with you, but there’s never a time when I wish you
weren’t my son. I’m very proud and happy to have you as my son.”
Joe
flushed, a bit embarrassed at Ben’s emotional statement. “I wouldn’t want
anyone else as my father,” he said.
“Good,”
said Ben with a smile. “Because I’m always going to be your father. I might
not be the best father, but I’m the only one you’ll ever have.”
*****End*****
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