Prisoner

by Susan

"Joseph Cartwright, you have been found guilty of the crime of manslaughter," intoned the judge solemnly. "Do you have anything to say before I pronounce sentence?"

Standing in front of the judge's bench, Joe Cartwright felt as though he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. Even though he had known what the judge was going to say, Joe had had a sense that what was going on was unreal, just as he had felt his arrest and trial were some sort of bad dream from which he would momentarily awake. Even when the jury foreman had read the verdict of guilty, Joe hadn't really grasped what was happening to him. But now, listening to the judge, his situation had suddenly become very real – frighteningly so. Joe's stomach was churning and he could feel the bile rising in his throat. He looked up at the judge, who was waiting a bit impatiently for him to reply. Joe swallowed hard, trying to keep the fear out of his face and his voice.

"Your honor," said Joe in a voice that quavered a bit, "I'm innocent. I didn't kill Elizabeth Crowley. I don't know who killed her, but it wasn't me. This is all a mistake."

Sighing a bit, the judge looked at the young man standing before him. He hadn't expected anything but the man's protestation of innocence. In all his years on the bench, the judge had rarely heard a defendant freely admit to committing a crime, even after the jury had found the individual guilty, as this jury had done.

"Nevertheless," said the judge, looking at the man standing before the bench, "the jury has found you guilty. They have found that you slapped, pushed or did some other action which caused Elizabeth Crowley to fall and hit her head against stone hearth in her room, causing her death. The fact that you ran from the scene, not offering the victim any assistance, only compounds your guilt."

"I didn't push her," Joe protested. "I never touched her. When I left Elizabeth, she was alive and well."

"The jury has found otherwise," the judge said irritably. He didn't like being interrupted. Looking down at a paper in his hands, the judge read the words briefly, then looked up at the young man standing before him again. "In accordance with the statutes of the Nevada territory, I sentence you to 15 years in the Nevada Territorial Prison." The judge looked past Joe to the sheriff standing a few feet behind him. "Sheriff Coffee, you will keep the prisoner in your jail until such time as he can be transported to the Nevada Territorial Prison and put in custody of the authorities there."  Reaching for the gavel in front of him, the judge concluded, "This court is adjourned." He banged the gavel loudly on the wooden disk on the bench, then laid it down and began gathering the papers up in front of him.

The sound of the gavel sent another wave of shock through Joe. He flinched at the sound, as if it had been a gunshot. Joe's eyes were wide and he felt numb. He wasn't aware of the sudden outburst of chatter from the seats of the packed courtroom behind him. He didn't sense the three men approaching him, or feel the hand being laid on his shoulder. Joe was only dimly aware of Roy Coffee standing before him, raising his wrists and almost gently closing the handcuffs around them. He heard some words in his ears, and turned in a daze to look at the white-haired man standing next to him.

"Joe, this isn't over," said Ben Cartwright to his son in an urgent voice. He squeezed Joe's shoulder gently with the comforting hand he had placed on his son. "We'll appeal. We'll find new evidence. Somehow, we'll prove you're innocent."

Looking at his father, Joe merely nodded slowly, still too stunned by the judge's words to answer.

"Ben, this isn't the place to talk," said Sheriff Coffee quickly. He saw the people in the courtroom watching, some pointing and others merely staring at the small knot of men standing before the now empty judge's bench. "Give me a chance to get Joe over to the jail. You can talk to him there."

For a moment, Ben didn't answer. He could see the dazed look on Joe's face, the fear in his son's eyes. Ben wanted nothing more than to hug his son to him and tell him things would be all right. But he knew the sheriff was right. Standing in the courtroom with a crowd of gawking people was a poor place to comfort and offer hope to his son.

"All right, Roy," said Ben reluctantly. "The boys and I need to talk to Hiram anyway about the appeal. We'll meet you over at the jail in about ten minutes."  Ben squeezed Joe's shoulder again, then turned away.

Still feeling numb, Joe didn't notice the brief pat on the back from his brother Hoss or the quick press on his arm by his oldest brother, Adam. He felt the sheriff tugging his arm, and almost stumbled as he turned to walk slowly from the courtroom with Roy Coffee.

In silence, Joe let Sheriff Coffee lead him through a side door from the courtroom and into a small waiting room. Coffee didn't pause, but rather continued to pull Joe toward a door at the back of the room. Coffee led Joe into an alley behind the courthouse and began walking with him behind several buildings toward a wide street ahead. Joe knew the way; it was a walk he had made every day for the past four days as he had been escorted from the jail to his trial. Somehow, Joe had believed he wouldn't be making the same trek again. He knew he was innocent, and he had naively believed that the jury would understand that. Even as he had listened to the evidence against him, Joe had believed the jury would set him free.

As the pair reached the street, Roy Coffee stopped and looked briefly from side to side. Satisfied that there was no one to threaten his prisoner or to try to take Joe from him, the sheriff tugged on Joe's arm gently and led the young man across the street. Coffee hadn't really expected any type of angry mob. Elizabeth Crowley has been a visitor to Virginia City, barely known by anyone except Joe Cartwright. The crowds in the courtroom had come to witness a Cartwright standing trial, and not out of any passionate concern for the victim.

The sheriff continued to tug gently on Joe's arm as he led the young man into his office and toward the block of cells. Joe walked without thought to the second cell, the one that had been his home for the past few weeks while he waited for his trial. As he entered the cell, Joe suddenly stopped, unsure what to do next.

Reaching into his pocket, Roy Coffee pulled out a small key and began unlocking the handcuffs from around Joe's wrists. "I'll give you a couple of minutes by yourself," said Roy gently. "Your Pa and brothers will be here soon. You just call out if you need anything."  The sheriff slipped the cuffs off Joe's wrists, then walked behind him. Roy shut the cell door behind Joe, the metal clanging loudly as the door snapped closed.

The clang of the cell door woke Joe from his daze. He looked around the cell, wondering how he had gotten here. He didn't remember making the short walk from the courthouse. Taking a few steps, Joe stood in front of a small bucket of water. He reached down and pulled the ladle, dripping with water, from the bucket to his mouth. Joe drank the water greedily; his throat felt as dry as a desert. Then he dropped the dipper back into the pail, causing it to plop softly into the water. Joe turned and walked over to the narrow bed on which he had slept for the past few weeks. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his head down into his hands.

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

The door of the sheriff's office burst open and Roy Coffee looked up from his desk, not surprised to see Ben Cartwright and his other two sons striding into the office. "Roy, we want to see Joe," Ben announced.

"Sure," agreed the sheriff, getting up from the desk and reaching for a ring of keys. "What did Hiram say?" he asked, referring to Hiram Withers, Joe's lawyer.

"Just what you would expect," answered Adam Cartwright, standing next to his father. "He's going to appeal the conviction, but right now, he doesn't have much on which to base an appeal. Unless we can find some new evidence, Hiram doesn't think an appeal will do any good."

"Roy, we know Joe didn't kill that gal," Hoss Cartwright said in a burst of words. "Ain't there something you could have missed? Something you overlooked?"

"Hoss, I checked out every one who even talked to Elizabeth Crowley while she was in Virginia City, and went over all the evidence with a fine tooth comb," answered Coffee. "There aren't any other suspects. I couldn't find anyone who even really knew her, much less would want to kill her."

"Roy, you don't think Joe's guilty, do you?" asked Ben in a surprised voice.

"No, I don't," admitted the sheriff. "But it's not my job to judge Joe's guilt or innocence. My job is to gather the evidence, and that's what I did."  Roy Coffee stood before the Cartwrights and his eyes narrowed. "The judge said Joe is going to prison, and that's exactly where he's going. I won't stand for anyone trying to set him loose. If Joe was facing a hanging, I might feel different, but he ain't. So, unless the judge tells me otherwise, I'm going to keep Joe in that jail until the prison wagon arrives, and then turn him over to the territory. Is that clear?"

Sighing, Ben nodded his head. "We understand, Roy, and we won't cause you any trouble." He looked over his shoulder to Adam and Hoss. "Isn't that right, boys?"  Adam and Hoss exchanged a glance, then both nodded slowly in agreement.

"Good," said Roy. He noted none of the Cartwrights were wearing holsters. "I'll let you in Joe's cell." Jangling the ring of keys in hand, Roy turned toward the cell block, followed closely by the three men.

Joe was still sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, as the men entered the cell block. He didn't look up as Roy Coffee put a key into the lock and turned it, then pulled the cell door open. Joe didn't show any reaction as Ben, Hoss and Adam crowded into the cell. The sheriff saw Joe's immobile figure sitting on the bed as he shut the cell door behind the Cartwrights. He could see the distress on Ben's face as the man gazed at his youngest son, and noted the anguish in Hoss' eyes as well as the worried look on Adam's face.  Shaking his head sadly, Coffee turned away and left the four men in the cell to their shared despair.

Walking across the small cell, Ben sat down on the bed next to Joe and put his arm around his son's shoulders. Joe continued to simply sit, head down and body rigid, the picture of discouragement and misery. "Joe," said Ben softly, "Hiram is going to start work on the appeal immediately. I'm going to get an appointment with the governor as soon as possible. We're going to find some way to get you out of this."

For the first time since his father and brothers entered the cell, Joe looked up. "We both know that none of that is going to make any difference," Joe said to his father in a voice filled with hopelessness. "Without some new evidence, there's nothing the court or the governor will do."

"Then we'll find some new evidence," asserted Hoss from where he standing by the far side of the cell. "We'll keep looking and digging around until we find out who did the killing. We ask enough questions, we're bound to find out who the real killer is."

"You think someone is going to admit to killing Elizabeth just because you ask him?" Joe said to Hoss in a bitter voice.  Hoss looked down, with an abashed air.

Leaning against the cell door, Adam studied his youngest brother. He wanted desperately to do something to help Joe, but was at a loss as to what to do. "Let's go over it again, Joe," said Adam. "Tell us exactly what happened."

"What good will that do?" Joe asked, shaking his head. "I've already told you and the jury and everyone else what happened. We've gone over it a dozen times."

"Then we'll go over it again," insisted Adam. "There's something we missed, something that we didn't think of. Maybe we'll see it this time."

For a moment, Joe didn't say anything, then he shrugged his shoulders. "Might as well, I guess," he said in a discouraged voice. "I don't have anything else to do."

"Start with when you first met Elizabeth," urged Adam.

Looking off, Joe said slowly, "First time I saw Elizabeth Crowley, she was in the general store, trying to buy paint. She couldn't seem to make Harry understand that she wanted the kind of paint that you use for pictures, not the kind you use to paint barns." Unconsciously, Joe smiled a bit, remembering the look of anger and frustration on Elizabeth's face as she had tried to explain to the clerk what she wanted. Her blue eyes were blazing and her cheeks were growing rosy. Elizabeth's long, dark hair shook a bit as she stamped her foot. Joe thought she was the prettiest girl he had seen in a long time.

"Do you think she deliberately followed you into the store?" asked Adam.

"At the time, I didn't," admitted Joe. "She came in right after I did, and walked straight to the counter. I didn't think she even noticed me. But looking back over everything, I guess maybe she did. When I introduced myself and started talking to her, Elizabeth seemed interested almost immediately. It didn't take much to convince her to join me for lunch that day."

"What happened after that?" Adam pressed his brother.

Shrugging a bit, Joe answered, "Well, we just started seeing each other. Rides, picnics, dinners, that sort of thing." He gave Adam a wry smile. "I thought she was wonderful, and I guess I was feeling pretty good about how much she seemed to like me. She seemed perfect and I started falling in love with her."

"A little too perfect, maybe," commented Adam. "When did you start suspecting something wasn't quite right?"

Blowing out a small puff of air, Joe shook his head. "I don't think I ever suspected anything was wrong about her, " he said. "There were a couple of times when she said she couldn't see me, but I knew she was painting, working on the pictures for the show she said was going to happen in New York. About the only thing that seemed a little odd was how she insisted on meeting all of you and showing you some of her paintings. I thought she just wanted you to like her, and to be impressed with her work. I couldn't think of any other reason why she kept asking me to set something up with the rest of the family."

"She was quite charming," admitted Ben. "After meeting her, I thought she was a lovely girl."

"She was real nice," agreed Hoss, "and her pictures were really pretty, too."

Looking down, Adam remembered the luncheon Joe had arranged, and viewing the paintings in Elizabeth's suite at the hotel. He had thought the paintings were above average, but not the quality that would warrant a New York show. But Adam had kept his opinions to himself, both for Joe's sake and because he understood art was really a matter of individual taste. After all, he could compare the paintings of Lake Tahoe and the mountains to the originals, and the Eastern art crowd didn't have that advantage. All it took was a critic or two to proclaim the paintings as extraordinary for an artist to become an instant favorite with the wealthy collectors.

"Tell us about the dance," said Adam.

"It wasn't anything special," replied Joe, "just a Saturday night dance at the town hall. I thought Elizabeth would enjoy it. She seemed to, for awhile at least."

"Until she met Mitch Devlin," Adam commented.

"I guess," said Joe, with a shrug. "I didn't connect the two at the time. I had introduced her to a couple of people, including Mitch. When she said she wanted to leave, I thought she was tired or bored. I didn't think her wanting to leave had anything to do with meeting Mitch. She didn't seem upset or bothered when I introduced her to him."

"What exactly did Mitch say to her?" asked Adam.

Looking off, Joe tried to recall exactly what had happened at the dance. "I introduced her to Mitch," he said slowly. "I told Elizabeth that he was one of my oldest friends. Mitch shook her hand, and then he stared at her for a minute. He asked Elizabeth if they had met someplace before. He said she looked familiar to him."

"And she denied it," Adam said.

"Well, yes but in kind of a casual way," answered Joe. "She said something like she would have remembered meeting Mitch before, and she was sure she hadn't. I remember kidding Mitch, telling him that his line was one of the oldest in the book, and to leave my girl alone. Mitch laughed, but I noticed he kept looking at her, even after we walked away. I guess Elizabeth noticed too, because a few minutes later, she said she wanted to leave."

"Tell us about the night Elizabeth was killed," said Adam.

A pained look crossed Joe's face and, once more, he lowered his head. His body slumped a bit. "I don't…do we have to go over that again?" he mumbled.

Arching his eyebrows, Adam looked at his father. Ben had been sitting quietly next to Joe, his armed draped around his son, letting Adam ask the questions. But Ben knew he would need to encourage Joe in order to get his youngest son to talk about the night Elizabeth Crowley had been killed. He knew how upset Joe got every time he thought about that night, and how his son had tried to tell everyone what had happened while at the same time hating the thought of reliving that evening over and over. Ben glanced at Adam and gave his oldest son a quick nod. Then Ben turned back to Joe.

"Joe," said Ben softly as his arm pulled Joe toward him a bit. "I know it's difficult to think about that night. But it's important. It's the key to finding out who killed Elizabeth. Please, tell us again what happened that night."

Raising his head, Joe stared at Ben. He blinked as he felt his eyes growing damp. Even after all these weeks, Joe's memory of what Elizabeth had said to him hurt him deeply. He remembered feeling angry, but most of all, he remembered the pain that seemed to cut through his heart. Joe swallowed hard, then nodded his agreement.

"Elizabeth and I went to dinner that night," Joe started in a hesitant voice.

"You had dinner late, right?" interrupted Adam.

"Right," agreed Joe. "I met her at the hotel about eight o'clock. Elizabeth had said she wanted to spend the day painting and I had work to do." Joe looked at Hoss and gave his brother a small smile. "Hoss had been complaining about me not doing my share on the ranch, so I thought I'd had better show up at the branding pen."

"Oh, Joe, I was just funning," Hoss said in a contrite voice. "I didn't really mean anything." 

"I know you didn't," said Joe, his smile widening a bit. "But since Elizabeth said she wanted the day to herself, I figured I might as well put in a token appearance." Joe's face suddenly sobered. "After dinner, I walked Elizabeth back up to her suite. When we opened the door, there was a telegram lying on the floor, like someone had pushed it under the door."

"Didn't you think that was strange?" asked Adam. "Usually, Frank stops people at the desk when they're coming in and hands them their telegrams, to make sure they get them."

"I didn't think about that," admitted Joe. "I guess I just figured that Frank thought it was important and slipped it under the door to make sure Elizabeth got it."

"But how would Frank know what was in the telegram?" argued Adam. "He wouldn't have opened it."

"I don't know, Adam," said Joe in a heated voice. "It doesn't really make any difference, does it? After all, we know it was a phony."

"You're right," Adam said in a soothing voice. "It doesn't make any difference. I'm sorry. Go on. What happened next?"

Taking a deep breath, Joe looked off toward the small window of the cell. His eyes took on a far away look, as if he were mentally returning to that evening. "Elizabeth opened the telegram," continued Joe in a low voice, "and I could tell right away that it upset her. I asked her what was wrong. That's when she told me the gallery that had promised to show her paintings was closing. She had been promised an advance from the gallery and was counting on selling some of her paintings through them. With the gallery closing, she said she wouldn't have enough money to live on, much less continue painting. Elizabeth told me she was going to have to go back to New York right away to see if she could arrange a showing through another gallery. She wasn't sure how long that would take. She said she could be gone for a long time."

"And that upset you," commented Adam.

"Sure it did," Joe said almost in anger as he turned back to his oldest brother. "I was in love with her. I didn't want Elizabeth to leave, not knowing if she would ever come back."

"But she would have had to go to New York anyway," argued Adam. "She would have had to have been there for the original show."

Joe's eyes returned to the small window. "Yes," he replied softly. "But we had talked about that at dinner. Elizabeth told me she was going to arrange to have her paintings shipped to the gallery. They would handle getting them framed and set up, and handle all the publicity about the show. Elizabeth was going to go back for the opening, and stay only as long as she had to get her paintings starting to sell. Then she was going to come back. She said she had fallen in love with the West, and…" There was a catch in Joe's voice. "And with me."

"And that's when you offered to give her the money to finance the show," said Adam.

"Yes," Joe answered. "She refused at first, saying she didn't want to take money from me. But I insisted. I told her I was sure the rest of the family would agree. I mean, you had seen the paintings, and I knew you really liked Elizabeth. I was sure you would agree to help finance her show."

"That's why she had been so insistent on meeting us," commented Ben. "She wanted to be sure we would be on her side, that we wouldn't try to stop you from giving her the money."

"How much did she ask for?" Adam pressed his brother.

"She said she wasn't sure how much it would take to finance the show," Joe said. "Probably, at least $5,000, maybe more."  Joe shook his head. "I finally convinced her to take $10,000, to be sure she had enough. Elizabeth didn't want to take the money, but I was pretty persuasive," he said in a voice dripping with irony. Joe took another deep breath. "We agreed to meet at the bank the next day at noon. That was supposed to give me enough time to talk things over with the family and get them to agree to the idea."

"And then you left," Adam said.

"Yeah, I left," agreed Joe. "Elizabeth said she was tired and upset, that she wouldn't be good company, so I said my goodbyes and left."

"Where did you run into Mitch?" asked Adam.

"Right as I was coming out of the hotel," answered  Joe. "He was standing on the porch, waiting for me. As soon as I came out, he grabbed me and told me that we needed to talk. So we headed over to the Silver Dollar."

"He didn't tell you what he wanted to talk to you about?" Adam asked.

"No," Joe replied, shaking his head, "not then. He just said we needed to talk and suggested we go over and get a beer. Mitch and I went to the Silver Dollar, and got a table and a couple of beers."

"And that's when he told you about Elizabeth," said Adam.

"Yeah," agreed Joe. "Mitch told me he had finally remembered where he had seen her before. He met her about a year ago over in Silver City. Mitch said that Jim Broson had introduced her to him. Only her name then wasn't Elizabeth Crowley."

"Why did it take Mitch so long to remember?" Hoss asked from across the cell.

Looking up at his brother, Joe shrugged. "Mitch had met her on the street with Jim. He only talked with her for a minute or so. He remembered her face, and recognized her at the dance. It took him awhile to remember when and where he had seen her before. Mitch told me that the name being different was what confused him."

"You didn't believe him, of course," commented Adam.

"No, I didn't," Joe said, turning to his oldest brother. "I told Mitch he was wrong, that he had her confused with someone else." Joe looked away. "I was in love with her, Adam. I didn't want to think that Elizabeth wasn't who she said she was, that she was playing me for a fool. Even when Mitch told me that he had heard Bronson lost a bundle of money financing some kind of art show that never happened, I didn't believe him."

"What finally convinced you? Bob Talbert?" asked Adam.

"Yeah, I suppose that was it," Joe said. "When Bob walked in and asked for a beer, I was still arguing with Mitch. Then I heard the bartender ask Bob why he wasn't over at the telegraph office. Bob told him that he hadn't much to do there, since the lines had been down for two days and probably wouldn't be fixed until at least the next day."

"What did you do then?" Adam asked.

"I got up from the table and walked over to Bob," Joe answered, looking off again. "I made him tell me again that the lines were down. When I said a friend had just received a telegram, Bob told me that was impossible, that there hadn't been a telegram received in Virginia City for a couple of days. Then Mitch walked over. He said he had seen Elizabeth in town earlier that day. She had been buying a ticket at the stage depot. That's when I knew it was all a swindle." Joe winced at the memory of the pain he had felt when the truth had become clear to him, when he realized that Elizabeth didn't really love him. He had given his heart to a girl whose only interest was getting money from him. The hurt he had felt stabbed him once again.

"Then what happened?" asked Adam in a soft voice. He knew Joe was going to have to relive a very painful moment and he hated asking his brother to do that. But it was the only chance they had of coming up with something that would save Joe from spending the next 15 years in prison.

"I was mad," admitted Joe. "When I finally realized that Elizabeth had been lying to me all along, I guess I just lost my temper. I walked out of the saloon and headed back over to the hotel." Joe stopped and his gaze returned to the window.

Watching his brother, Adam knew Joe was reluctant to continue. He waited a minute, hoping Joe would start his story again without any prompting. He didn't want to push Joe too hard, afraid his brother would simply give up. "Frank, the desk clerk, said he could see the look on your face when you stormed back into the hotel," Adam commented in a soft voice. "He testified that you looked angry."

Turning to Adam, Joe gave his brother a wry smile. "What Frank said was that I 'had murder in my eyes'. That didn't exactly help my case."

"What happened when you got to Elizabeth's room?" Adam asked, hoping that now Joe had started talking again, his brother would continue.

Taking a deep breath, Joe looked down at the floor. "I was angry," he repeated. "I tried the door and it was locked. Then I started knocking on the door and calling Elizabeth's name. I yelled for her to let me in. I guess I was pretty loud because even Frank heard me downstairs at the desk."

Knowing that this was the critical part of Joe's tale, Adam didn't want Joe to stop. "Elizabeth let you in," he said.

"Yeah, she let me in," Joe agreed in a low voice. "It took a couple of minutes of me pounding and yelling, but she finally unlocked the door and let me in. She must have seen the look on my face because she suddenly seemed scared. Elizabeth asked me what was wrong. That's when I told her that I knew the truth – that her name wasn't Elizabeth Crowley, that the telegram was a fake, and that there wasn't going to be any show in New York. I told her I knew the whole thing was a swindle."

"What did Elizabeth say?" asked Adam.

"She denied it at first," answered Joe. "Said the whole thing was a mistake, some kind of mix-up. But when I told her what Bob Talbert had said about the telegraph lines being down, she must have guessed the jig was up. Suddenly, she changed. She wasn't the sweet girl I had known. Her face, it became, well, hard. She laughed at me, and said she was surprised that I had figured it out so soon."

"Then what happened?" Adam prompted softly.

Once more, Joe's gaze returned to the window. "I asked her what her real name was," he said softly. "Elizabeth just laughed again and said it didn't matter. She walked over to the desk and pulled open a drawer. There was a whiskey bottle in the desk, and she took it out, along with two glasses. Then she walked over and sat in the chair. She poured herself a glass of whiskey and offered me one. That's when I walked over, took the glass from her and threw it against the wall."

"What did Elizabeth do then?" Adam asked.

"She just laughed some more, like my being angry was funny," Joe answered. "I told her that I was going to have her arrested, and she asked me what for. She said that I hadn't given her any money so there was nothing the law could do to her. I guess that's when I got really mad and started yelling at her. I told her I was going to make sure she got run out of Virginia City, that her picture would be plastered over every newspaper in the West. I threatened all kinds of things, most of which I didn't know if I could do. I just wanted to let her know that I was going to make sure she knew she wouldn't be able to pull her little fraud on someone else."

"Mrs. Harris, the lady in the next room, testified she heard the shouting and the glass break," said Ben. "She said things got quiet after that."

"I guess I ran out of steam," answered Joe. "Elizabeth just sat in that chair, listening to me rant and sipping whiskey. I could tell what I was saying didn't bother her. So I turned to leave. I didn't want to be in the same room with her any more."

"But you didn't leave," said Adam.

"No, I didn't," Joe answered. His voice softened, so that the next words were almost a whisper, barely heard by the other men in the cell. "I told Elizabeth that I had fallen in love with her. I wanted her to know how much she had hurt me; I guess, maybe I wanted to make her feel bad or something."

"What did Elizabeth say to that?" Adam asked in a voice almost as soft as his brother's.

"She didn't say anything," Joe continued in a whisper. "She just shrugged, like she didn't care. That's when I asked her if she had any feelings for me at all. She….said she didn't."

As Ben listened to his son, he heard the same words Joe had said at the trial, and to everyone who had asked him – a general statement that Elizabeth had denied any affection for him. Until now, Ben hadn't pressed Joe to tell him exactly what the girl had said to him. He could tell that Joe had been hurt by the words, and that repeating them would be painful and embarrassing. But Ben felt he couldn't allow Joe to skip over that part of his story now, not when his son was facing 15 years in prison. He wasn't sure that the words would offer any clues, but he couldn't take the chance that they wouldn't.

"Joe, tell us what she said," Ben said gently. "Tell us exactly what she said to you."

Turning, Joe looked at his father. The pain he felt in remembering Elizabeth's words were reflected in his eyes. He didn't want to repeat those words; he didn't want to even try to remember them. "It's not important, Pa," said Joe, shaking his head.

"It might be, Joe," Ben replied. "Just tell us. I know it's hard, but I promise you that this is the only time we'll ask. We have to know, Joe, just in case she might have said something that will help you."

Looking down, Joe nodded his head slowly. "When I asked her if she felt anything for me," Joe said in a voice so low that it could be barely heard, "she looked surprised. Then she laughed. She called me a boy, a country bumpkin. She said she must have been a better actress than she thought if I believed she cared about me. She asked me how I could even think that she could be happy in such a backwater place as Virginia City. She said she was bored stiff by the place and…and by me. Elizabeth said she knew what it was like to be loved by a real man, someone who knew how to take care of her and give her what she really wanted. She said I…I was just a pathetic boy, pretending to be a man."

Silence filled the cell. Adam and Hoss felt sympathy toward their brother, knowing how much the girl's words had hurt Joe. But Ben's reaction was different. He felt a rage building in him as he realized Elizabeth Crowley had deliberately tried to wound his son, how she had used words that she knew would crush Joe. If the girl wasn't already dead, Ben thought he might have throttled her himself.

Clearing his voice to end the uncomfortable silence, Adam said, "We figured she must have had someone who was in on this with her. What Elizabeth said seems to confirm that."

"Maybe," said Ben cautiously. "The girl only said she had been in love with another man. She didn't say that she was still with him."

"But, Pa, that had to be it," insisted Hoss. "We know Joe didn't kill her, and no one else in Virginia City had a reason to want to hurt her. This fellow must have been with her. He's the one who killed her."

"It could be," admitted Ben, "but we don't have any proof. Right now, what we need is solid evidence, not speculation."

"Joe, what did you do after…after Elizabeth admitted she had no feelings for you?" asked Adam.

Joe turned to his brother with a dazed look his eyes. "What did you say?" he asked, confirming that his thoughts had been elsewhere.

"What did you do after that?" Adam repeated.

Taking a deep breath, Joe said, "I was furious, Adam. I don't think I've ever been that angry in my whole life. I was afraid I might hit her. So I left. I just turned and walked out."

"Mrs. Harris said she didn't hear you leave," Ben said softly.

"Well, I didn't close the door behind me," said Joe. He gave a small, bitter laugh. "The one time in my life I didn't slam a door behind me, and it's going to cost me 15 years."

"Are you sure you didn't raise your voice again?" Adam asked. "Mrs. Harris testified at the trial that she heard shouting a second time."

"I didn't say a word, Adam, " Joe asserted. "I just walked out."

"But Mrs. Harris said she heard Elizabeth shouting something like, 'Joe, don't, please don't'. Did you say or do anything that might have made her say that?" Adam pressed his brother.

"No, I'm sure I didn't," answered Joe, shaking his head.

"It's like Hiram said at the trial," Ben commented. "Mrs. Harris could have misunderstood. The word she could have heard might have been 'No', instead of 'Joe'."

"She seemed pretty sure about what she heard," said Joe. "Besides, even if she got it wrong, it didn't seem to have made any difference to the jury."

"It's not enough to base an appeal on," admitted Ben.

"Finish the story, Joe," Adam said. "What happened after you left Elizabeth's suite."

"Well, I was angry," said Joe. "I remember running down the stairs to the hotel lobby, and out the door. I walked over to where my horse was standing on the street, and jumped on. I rode out of town as fast as I could and just kept riding. I thought maybe if I rode hard enough and long enough, I would cool down. I rode for maybe a hour, then I came home. When I got there, Roy Coffee was waiting to arrest me."

"And you never did anything that might cause harm to Elizabeth Crowley?" asked Adam.

"Adam, I didn't even know she was dead until Roy told me," Joe answered in a plaintive voice. "I never touched her. I was angry and upset, but I didn't kill her."

"We believe you, Joe," Ben said in a soothing voice. "You don't have to convince us."

"Frank said when you came down the stairs the second time, you had a strange look on your face," Adam said in a pensive voice. "He thought you looked – I think he used the disturbed."

"Disturbed is putting it mildly, Adam," Joe said. "I was mad, infuriated by what Elizabeth had said and what she had none. But I wouldn’t kill her because of it."

"Mitch and Bob Talbert both testified that you walked right by them as you came out of the hotel," added Adam. "Mitch said he called to you but you kept right on going."

"I never saw or heard Mitch," Joe said, shaking his head. "I guess I was too mad. All I remember was walking to where Cochise was tied to a post and jumping on him. I just wanted to get away from Elizabeth, and I rode out of town as fast as I could."

"But it does make you look like you were running away," said Adam.

"I wasn't running away!" said Joe angrily. "How many times do I have to say it! I didn't kill her, Adam. I didn't do it."

"I know you didn't," Adam answered calmly. "I was just looking at things from the law's point of view." He turned to Ben. "How long did Frank say it was after Joe before Mrs. Harris came down to ask him to check on Elizabeth."

"He said it must have been at least twenty minutes," replied Ben. "Mrs. Harris testified she heard the second round of shouting and then things got quiet again. She got worried and decided someone should check on the girl. But she was afraid to do it herself. So she got dressed and went down to get Frank."

"Twenty minutes," said Adam speculatively. "That's a pretty short time for someone to go into Elizabeth's room, have an argument, kill her and then leave again."

"It must have been someone staying in the hotel," Ben said. "We already decided that. But we haven't been able to find anyone who was staying at the hotel that night who had any connection to Elizabeth."

"There's still those three fellows we haven't tracked down," Hoss said. "One of them might have done it."

"One of them probably did," agreed Ben. "But we've tried everything to find them and still haven't been able to locate them. At this point, the trail is pretty cold."

"One of the thing that has been tough to get around is the time element," said Adam with a frown ."We had a hard time figuring how someone could have come to the room so quickly. But what if he was already there?"

"What do you mean, Adam?" asked Ben with a frown.

"Well, Elizabeth admitted to Joe that she had been involved with someone else. Maybe she was still involved," Adam said, his brow furrowed in thought. "Joe said she pulled two glasses out with the whiskey. Why would she have two glasses if she was the only one there? She must have been still seeing this man. Maybe he was in the suite when Joe came back."

"How could that be?" asked Hoss. "Joe would have seen him."

"Not necessarily," said Adam. "Remember, it was a suite, so there was another room. Joe said it took Elizabeth a few minutes to open the door after he came back and started pounding on it. Maybe that was because she had to give someone time to hide in another room."

"And if he was in the other room, he would have heard the whole thing," said Joe, nodding. "If he was in this scheme with Elizabeth, he might have gotten mad that their little swindle was discovered. He could have argued with her and pushed her, accidentally killing her when she hit her head." Then Joe shook his head. "But that doesn't help any. We still don't know who this man was or where he went."

"No, it doesn't help much," Adam admitted. "But at least, we know what may have happened."

"That's not going to be much comfort to me while I'm sitting in a prison cell," said Joe in a discouraged voice.

Suddenly, Roy Coffee walked into the cellblock. "You fellows just about finished?" he asked. "It's getting toward dinner time, and I want to get something to eat, as well as bring back something for Joe."

Ben looked around the cell. He could tell Joe was exhausted, drained by the events of the day and having to repeat his story again. Adam and Hoss looked tired, also. Neither of them had slept very well lately, their nights filled with worry about Joe. Ben decided that it was probably a good idea for all of them to take a break. As much as he hated leaving Joe in the cell, Ben stood and nodded. "We're ready to leave, Roy."

As the sheriff unlocked the cell door to let out the Cartwrights, Ben turned back to Joe. He put his hand on Joe's shoulder and said, "We'll be back tomorrow, Joe. Just try and get some rest. We'll think of something to get you out of here, I promise."

"Sure," said Joe in a voice that told his father Joe didn't believe it.

"We'll see you tomorrow, little brother," Hoss said in a hearty voice as he walked out of the cell. "You just keep out of trouble, you hear."

Nodding, Joe tried to smile at Hoss' words. But the smile was a weak effort. Joe knew he was already in more trouble than he had ever been in his life.

Joe watched as his father and brothers left the cell, and as Roy Coffee closed the cell door again, locking him in. Then Joe stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

As Ben walked out of the cell block, he turned to Roy. "How much time do we have before the prison wagon gets here?" Ben asked the sheriff.

"That's hard to say," Roy Coffee replied. "I have to send the prison authorities a telegram, telling them I've got a prisoner for them. If the prison wagon is already on the road, they'll send a wire to the next town, telling the wagon to stop here. Depending on where the wagon is, it could be just a day or two before it shows up."

"A day or two!" exclaimed Ben in alarm. "Roy, that's not enough time. We need more time to find the evidence to clear Joe."

"Ben, I've got no choice," said the sheriff in a stubborn voice. "I have to let them fellows at the prison know about Joe." Then Coffee's face softened. "But maybe the wagon isn’t on the road yet," he added. "If it ain't, then it could be a week or more before they show up here."

"A week’s still not very much time," said Adam. "Isn't there some way you can delay them?"

"No, I can't," Coffee asserted, shaking his head. "I've got to do my job."

"Can't you at least wait until tomorrow to send the telegram?" pleaded Ben. "Give us at least that, won't you?"

Coffee looked as his old friend, trying to make up his mind. The sheriff had a keen sense of duty, but he also had a great deal of affection for the Cartwrights. "All right," Coffee relented. "I'll wait until tomorrow to send the telegram. But I've got to send it, Ben. You know that."

"I know," said Ben with a sigh.

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

Over the next three days, a pattern formed for the Cartwrights. Each morning, Ben, Adam and Hoss would ride into town and visit briefly with Joe, bringing him a change of clothes or a basket of his favorite foods from Hop Sing. Then the three older Cartwrights would leave the jail to tend to separate tasks that they hoped would lead to Joe's freedom. Ben spent time with Joe's lawyer, Hiram Withers, discussing the appeal and legal strategies. He also sent a message to the governor, requesting an appointment as soon as possible. Adam continued to search for the three men who had been in the hotel the night of the killing and had not yet been found. He sent telegrams, talked with stage coach drivers, and looked for anyone who might have rented or sold a buggy or horse to a stranger. Hoss talked with everyone he could find in town, asking them what they might know about Elizabeth and the night she died.

In the afternoon, the older Cartwrights would gather again at Joe's cell, to review what they had learned. Although each man tried to sound positive, all of them, including Joe, knew their efforts so far had been fruitless. Each day, Joe was becoming more withdrawn, merely sitting on the bed and listening in silence as his father and brothers related their activities and tried to make it sound as if some progress was being made. Joe appreciated their efforts, but more and more, he was mentally preparing himself for the trip to the Nevada Territorial Prison.

On the fourth afternoon, after another day of searching with no results, Ben and his older sons walked into the sheriff's office. Giving Roy Coffee a brief nod of greeting, Ben said, "We'd like to see Joe."

Sitting at his desk, Coffee fingered a small piece of paper. He looked down at the paper and then back to the Cartwrights. Sighing, the sheriff stood and walked over to the men standing in his office.

"Ben," Roy Coffee said slowly, "I got a telegram. The prison wagon is going to be here tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow!" said Ben in dismay. "Can't you delay them?"

"No, I can't," said the sheriff, shaking his head. "And even if I could, what good would it do? I know you and the boys have been looking for new evidence and haven't found anything. Another day or two isn't going to make much difference."

Looking down, Ben had to agree with Coffee about their lack of results. "I know we haven't found anything yet, but we could turn up something today or tomorrow, or even next week."

"And if you do, I'll be the first one to contact the prison authorities to get Joe out of there," stated Coffee. "But I can't keep Joe here indefinitely, hoping you'll find something. The judge ordered him sent to prison and that's what I have to do." The sheriff shook his head, and added sadly, "I'm sorry, Ben."

Silence filled the office as Ben swallowed hard, then looked over his shoulder to Adam and Hoss. Their faces looked as stricken as he was sure his did. All of them knew it was possible, even probable, that Joe might go to prison. But facing the reality of it was a crushing blow to the three men.

"Does Joe know?" asked Ben softly as turned back to face the sheriff.

"Yes, I told him a little while ago," replied Coffee. Once more, the sheriff shook his head. "He didn't say a word, Ben. Joe just nodded and then went to look out the window. He's been standing there ever since."

"Let us in to see him, Roy," said Ben.

Nodding, Coffee led the way to the cell block, keys in hand. As the sheriff had described, Joe stood in the cell with his back to the door, staring out the small window. He didn't turn as Coffee unlocked the door and let the three men into the cell. Joe showed no reaction as the cell door clanged shut.

"Joe," Ben said softly, "Roy told us the prison wagon will be here tomorrow. I'm sorry, son."

For a moment, Joe didn't say anything. Then, continuing to stare out the window, he remarked, "You know, it's funny. I grew up in this town. I should know it by heart. But now, all of a sudden, I can't remember it like I want. I can't remember if the dress shop is next to the candy store or the boot maker's shop. I've been staring out this window, trying to see Virginia City, trying to make sure I have it right in my mind. I don't want to forget what it looks like."

"Joe, you'll see it again soon enough," said Hoss, trying to comfort his brother.

"Fifteen years is a long time," said Joe, still not turning around. "A town can change a lot in that time. I probably won't even recognize it."

"It won't be fifteen years, son," stated Ben. "It may be a little while before you see it again, but not fifteen years."

"The Ponderosa probably won't look the same either," continued Joe as if he hadn't heard Ben's remark. He continued to stare out the window. "I wonder if the lake will look different. The strand of trees we planted last spring will probably be full grown by then."

"Joe, you'll be home before those trees begin to even sprout," Ben said firmly.

Turning, Joe looked at his father and brothers. "Pa, it's time to stop pretending," he said softly. "It's going to be fifteen years before I see the Ponderosa again. I'll be 37 years old when I finally get to sleep in my own room again."

Ben, Adam and Hoss stood silently in the cell, unsure what to say. Their continuing assertions that they would find new evidence and free Joe seemed hollow and false right now. None of them wanted to admit to what Joe had seemed to accept – that the youngest Cartwright was going to be taken away from the land and the family he loved.

"Joe," Adam said finally, "you know we're not going to stop looking for some clue, some evidence that will prove you're innocent. You have to believe that. We're not going just forget about it."

"I know, Adam," Joe said. He swallowed hard. "But it's time to face the facts. I'm going to prison and there's nothing you can do about it. You need to go on with your lives."

"Joe..," Ben started.

"Pa, I don't want you to give up everything for me," interrupted Joe.  "You can't spend the rest of your lives looking for something that may not exist. Elizabeth Crowley has ruined my life. I don't want her to ruin yours too."

"You can't expect us to just pretend like this ain't happened," protested Hoss.

"We have to keep looking, Joe," added Adam. "It's our only hope of finding some new evidence."

"What you have to do is go back and run the ranch, just like always." Joe blinked several times as he felt his eyes growing damp. "I want to have someplace to come home to."

"Don't worry, Joe," said Hoss, his eyes growing moist like his brother's, "The Ponderosa will be ready and waiting for you. I'll make sure of that."

"Joe, I have an appointment with the governor next week," said Ben. "Even if he won't grant a pardon, maybe I can convince him to reduce your sentence."

Shaking his head, Joe said, "I'm not going to count on it."

"Going to that prison isn't going to be easy, Joe," cautioned Adam. He hesitated, then continued. "Even though the Reform Committee brought in a new warden and tried to clean things up, that place is still a hell hole."

"I know, Adam," agreed Joe. "Roy and I have talked a bit about it. I know it's no picnic. Going there scares the hell out of me. But I'll get through it somehow." He gave Hoss a shaky grin. "Knowing the Ponderosa will still be there, waiting for me, will help."

"Is there anything we can do for you?" asked Adam.

"Besides getting me out of here?"  Joe answered dryly. "Yeah, there is. Roy has my hat, jacket and gunbelt someplace. I'd appreciate it if you would take them home for me."

"We'll get 'em, Joe," Hoss said. "We'll take your things home and keep them safe for you."

"Thanks,"  Joe said. "You'll need to take care of Cochise for me, too. Make sure he gets plenty of exercise."  A stricken look crossed Joe's face, as if a thought just struck him. "I guess, in 15 years, Cochise will be…be a really old horse,"  Joe said softly. He gave a long look to his father and each brother in turn. "I guess a lot of things could be different in 15 years," he added in a whisper. Abruptly, Joe turned to look out the window again.

Silence filled the cell as Joe's unsaid fears hung in the air. Each of the older Cartwrights knew this was not a time for platitudes or easy reassurances. But none of them could seem to find words that would ease Joe's apprehensions. With his back to them, none of them could see that Joe had his eyes tightly closed, or know the look of anguish on his face.

Finally, Ben stepped forward and put his arm around Joe's shoulders. "Joe, you can't give up hope," he said. "No matter what happens, you can't forget that you'll always have a family that loves you and cares about you. We know you're innocent, that none of this is your fault. Don't blame yourself for what's happened. You're a victim of someone else's crime, just as much as Elizabeth Crowley was."

Turning his head, Joe looked up at his father. His eyes were moist and red. Slowly, Joe nodded his head. Then he turned to look out the window again. "I wish I had never seen Elizabeth Crowley," he said bitterly. "I wish she and her paintings had never come to Virginia City."

At then mentioned of the paintings, a startled look flickered across Adam's face. His eyes narrowed a bit and his brow furrowed. "Joe," he asked slowly, "what happened to Elizabeth's paintings?"

Turning, Joe looked at his brother, surprised at the question. "I don't know," he said. "I never asked. Maybe Roy knows. It's not important, is it?"

Adam looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. "No, it's not important," he said. But a small frown lingered on his face.

The jingling of keys announced Roy Coffee's entrance into the cell block. "Ben," the sheriff said, "I think maybe it's time for you and the boys to leave. The word is out that the prison wagon is coming in the morning. There's a crowd of people starting to gather outside, waiting to see what you're going to do. I'm afraid if you stay here much longer, they're going to think something is happening."

"Let them think what they want," Ben said angrily to Coffee. "I don't care."

"No, but I do," replied the sheriff, not offended by Ben's tone. "Some of those boys get to drinking and talking, and there could be trouble. I'm not too keen on the idea of shooting at a mob trying to storm my jail. And if bullets do start flying, there's no telling what could happen. I'm asking you to leave as much to protect Joe as I am anything else."

Looking down, Ben understood Coffee's concerns and knew the sheriff's fear were legitimate. He had seen mobs before and knew how quickly things could get out of hand. A drunken mob had been known to take the law into their own hands and mete out their own form of "justice", only feeling remorse when they sobered up.

"If things are going to get ugly, maybe we ought to stay here with Joe," Hoss suggested.

"Things will only get ugly if you do stay," replied Coffee. "If that crowd sees you get on your horses and ride out of town, they'll be satisfied. The best thing for everyone is for you to leave." He looked at the men in the cell. "I'll give you a little time, but don't stay too long." Coffee turned and walked out of the cellblock.

Putting his hand on Joe's shoulder, Ben squeezed it reassuringly. "Joe, we'll come by in the morning before you leave," said Ben. He tried to smile but it was a poor effort. "We'll bring you the best breakfast Hop Sing can make. We'll be here when…when they come for you."

Joe looked at his father, and then to Adam and Hoss. He was silent for a minute, as if trying to make us his mind about something. Then he said, "No, don't come in the morning. I want to say goodbye now."

"Joe…" started Ben in a surprised voice.

"Pa, I don't want to say goodbye in front of some prison guard or with half of Virginia City watching, " Joe said firmly. "Let's say…what we have to now, and get it over with." Joe didn't add that he wanted the night to steel himself, to turn himself into a hard, unfeeling human being who would be able to survive the ordeal ahead of him.

"If you're sure that's what you want…" Ben said doubtfully.

"It's what I want," said Joe He swallowed hard. "I appreciate everything you've tried to do for me," he added in a choked voice. "But now, it's time we all faced the truth. I'm going to be taken away in the morning. So let's say goodbye now."

There was a sudden awkwardness between the men in the cell. No gesture seemed adequate or words seemed sufficient to express the emotions each of them were feeling. None of them seemed to know what to say or do to convey their feelings. Finally, Adam walked over to Joe and put a hand on each of his brother's shoulders.

"You take care of yourself, Joe," he said in a soft voice. "Just do what they tell you and don't cause any trouble." He grinned. "Don't try any of your silly tricks. They won't work on those prison guards any better than they worked on Pa or me."

"You mean, you don't think they'll appreciate me dumping a pail of water on them or trying to sneak out to go to town?" answered Joe, giving Adam a small smile.

"I mean exactly that," said Adam, continuing to smile. He moved his right hand to Joe's neck and rubbed it. "Be careful, Joe," he said, his voice softening. "We want you home safe and sound. I'll miss you and your stupid tricks."  Adam cuffed Joe lightly on the neck. The two men stood for a minute, just looking at each other. Then Adam abruptly turned away and walked to the front of the cell.

Hoss glanced at Adam, then strode purposefully across the cell to stand in front of Joe.

"Goodbye, little brother," he said a voice full of emotion. "Things ain't going to be the same around the Ponderosa while you're gone. I'm gonna miss you."