Promises to Keep

by Susan

The sidewalks of Virginia City were crowded but Joe Cartwright’s eyes were fixed on only one person. A pretty blonde in a print dress strolling down the sidewalk held Joe’s gaze as he walked slowly down the street. She seemed to feel Joe’s look; the girl glanced over her shoulder a few times. Joe smiled at her but the girl didn’t notice him in the crowd. Suddenly, Joe felt his shoulder bump into someone.

“Hey, Cartwright!” said a voice. “Watch where you’re going, will ya?”

Joe looked to his left, ready to offer apologies. He stopped and grinned when he saw the smiling cowboy he had run into. The young man was wearing a blue shirt with a dark bandanna tied loosely in around his neck. He had a dark hat pushed back on his head. The hat covered a mop of unruly strawberry blonde hair, and tufts of the hair were peaking out everywhere. A spray of freckles dotted the man’s nose, making him look younger than his true age of 22. His dark blue eyes seemed to dance with amusement, and his lips formed an easy smile.

 “Dave Marshall!” exclaimed Joe. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“You didn’t see me now,” replied Dave with an ironic smile. “You were too busy watching someone else.” 

Joe glanced down the street. The girl had disappeared into the crowd. “Yeah,” admitted Joe. “I guess I was.” He turned back to Dave. “What brings you into Virginia City? I thought you and your Pa were busy breaking that string of horses.” 

“We were,” answered Dave. “Pa had to come in and testify against Pete Bishop. I came along because I thought I might have to testify, too.” 

“Pete Bishop?” said Joe with a frown. Then his face cleared. “Oh, yeah, I heard he was arrested for rustling. Your Pa caught him on your place with a running iron, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Dave. “I wasn’t with Pa when he caught Bishop, but I helped Pa bring him into the sheriff.” 

“So what happened?” asked Joe curiously. “How long did he get?” 

“He didn’t get anything,” replied Dave, his voice filled with disgust. “The judge let him off. Said there wasn’t enough evidence to convict him.” 

“Wasn’t enough evidence!” exclaimed Joe. “Didn’t you tell the judge Bishop had running iron?” 

“Yeah, but the judge said having a running iron wasn’t illegal,” said Dave with a shake of his head. “Pa told him about the cattle we’re missing, and how he found Bishop with a running iron. But the judge said that wasn’t enough. He said Pa had to actually see him changing brands or herding the stolen cattle.” 

“We’ve lost some cattle, too,” said Joe thoughtfully. “I’ll bet Bishop had something to do with it.” 

“He probably did, but according to the judge, we’d have to catch him in the act,” said Dave. “It isn’t just Bishop, either. Near as Pa can tell, a lot of the ranches around here are missing some cattle. He figures there’s a whole gang involved.” 

“Probably is, for an operation that big,” agreed Joe. Joe clapped Dave on the shoulder. “Listen,” he said. “I was heading over to the Silver Dollar to get a beer before I head for home. Why don’t you come and have one with me.” 

Dave turned back to Joe and smiled. “I sure would like to,” he said. “But I can’t. I got to meet Pa and head back to the ranch. We got a lot of work.  a is letting me break most of those horses we caught.”  Dave’s chest seemed to puff out a bit. “He promised to let me take over that part of the ranch business soon.”  Dave’s face grew serious. “I’d like to help out Pa a lot more. He could use it.” 

“Yeah, he probably could,” agreed Joe. 

“Joe, do you know if there’s a reward out for those rustlers?” asked Dave. 

“I don’t know,” replied Joe. “Why? Think about going after them?” 

Dave flushed. “No, not really,” he said. “It just be nice if I could figure out a way to make a few extra dollars.” 

“Catching rustlers is a pretty dangerous way of making some money,” commented Joe. 

“Yeah, I guess it is,” said Dave vaguely. “I got to run. You keep an eye out for those rustlers, you hear?” 

“I will,” said Joe. Joe hesitated. “Dave, don’t go after those rustlers by yourself,” Joe cautioned. “It’s too dangerous.” 

“I won’t,” replied Dave. “I promise.” 

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

Talk at the dinner table at the Ponderosa that night centered as usual around activities on the ranch. Joe only half-listened to his brother Hoss talking about how fat the herd was getting, and his brother Adam making plans for his trip to San Francisco. Joe was thinking more about rustlers than ranch work.  en Cartwright noticed that his youngest son seemed less interested than usual in the conversation at that table. He wasn’t concerned; Joe had more of a distracted look than a worried one. But Ben was curious about what seemed to be drawing Joe’s attention away from family business . Finally, he could contain his curiosity no longer. 

“Joseph,” said Ben during a lull in the conversation. “You seem a million miles away tonight. Isn’t our work on the Ponderosa of interest to you?” 

Joe looked up at his father with a startled expression. “What?” said Joe. “Um, I mean, yes, sir, it is. I was just thinking about something else.” 

“Probably some pretty little blonde he saw in Virginia City today,” said Hoss with a grin. 

Joe grinned back at his brother. “As a matter of fact, I did see a nice looking young lady in Virginia City,” he admitted. Then Joe’s face grew serious. “But I was thinking more about rustlers.” 

“Rustlers?” said Adam in surprise. “What brought that on?” 

“I ran into Dave Marshall in town,” said Joe. He smiled briefly thinking how that statement was literally true. “Dave told me his father testified against Pete Bishop in his rustling trial but the judge let Bishop go.” 

“Let him off?” said Hoss in surprise. “How come?” 

“Dave said the judge said there wasn’t enough evidence,” explained Joe. “The judge said that you had to actually catch someone in the act to get them convicted.” 

“Well, that’s not exactly true,” said Ben. “People can be convicted on circumstantial evidence. But for serious crimes, like rustling, most judges and juries like to have some hard evidence.” 

“Hard evidence?” said Joe with a frown. “But Dave’s Pa caught Bishop with a running iron. And he caught him near the tracks of some cattle.” 

“That probably was too circumstantial,” said Adam. “The judge probably wanted some one who actually saw Bishop using the running iron or driving the cattle.” 

“That’s what Dave said,” admitted Joe. Joe shook his head. “It seems like the  only way to be sure some is convicted of a crime is to catch them in red-handed. That’s pretty tough to do.” 

“Well, it’s not the only way to get a conviction,” said Ben. “But judges and juries do seem to find it easier to convict someone if there’s an eyewitness to the crime.” 

“Sometimes an eyewitness doesn’t even guarantee a conviction,” said Adam. “Remember last year when Cindy Bennett swore she saw the man who robbed the Wells Fargo office in Carson City? By the time the lawyers

got finished with her, she was so confused she could barely remember her own name. The fellow they accused went free.” 

“Yeah, and remember that guy who was accused of killing the old miner a few years ago?” added Hoss. “Four people said they saw him go into the mine and heard the gunshot. But he came up with two other people who said he was in Virginia City at the time. The jury couldn’t make up their minds who to believe and he got off.” 

“So even with an eyewitness, people get off,” said Joe with a shake of his head. “That’s a pretty lousy system.” 

“People do sometimes go free,” said Ben. “Even when they’re guilty as sin.  You can never be absolutely certain what a judge and jury are going to decide. But most of the time, the system works. The laws may not be perfect, but it’s the best system we’ve been able to come up with. Without trials and evidence, people could be accused and convicted of crimes by someone who simply didn’t like them. We’d end up with a lot of innocent people in jail.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” said Joe. “But I’ve seen plenty of wanted posters marked dead or alive. Those posters don’t seem to mind if someone doesn’t stand trial.” 

“In most cases, the men who are wanted dead or alive are known killers,” said Adam. “Men facing a hanging have nothing to loose. That makes them dangerous. They’re not likely to surrender. Dead or alive simply means the law wants them caught, no matter how someone has to do it.” 

“But any judge will tell you that the law prefers to have them alive,” said Ben quickly. “Justice is best served by legally trying a man.” 

“Except when they manage to wriggle out of it,” said Joe with a shake of his head. “I wonder if those rustlers will ever get convicted.” 

“Well, first we have to catch them rustlers,” said Hoss. “They’re pretty slick. They’ve been taking only a few head from a lot of ranches. People barely notice and no one’s been upset enough to get a posse together.” 

“But their tally is beginning to add up,” said Adam. “Based on what I’ve been hearing, they must have over a hundred head by now.” 

“Wonder where they have them stashed?” speculated Hoss. 

“I don’t know, but we’d better plan to go looking for them soon,” said Ben. He turned to Adam. “How long do you think you’re going to be gone, son?” 

“Well, it’s going to take me awhile to get those timber contracts signed,” said Adam thoughtfully. “Then I’ve got to arrange for the wagons, and the ships. I’d say at least six weeks, maybe longer.” 

“Six weeks in San Francisco!” exclaimed Joe. He turned to Ben with a twinkle in his eye. “How come you never let me go to San Francisco for six weeks?” Joe complained. 

“Because you’d never last six weeks in San Francisco by yourself, little brother,” interjected Hoss with a grin before Ben could reply. “I figure it’d only take a week for some hoppin’ mad daddy to be chasing you home with a shotgun.” 

“Why, Hoss,” said Joe in mock surprise. “I figure it'd take at least two weeks. The first week I’d be busy down on the Barbary Coast.” 

“Yeah, and probably end up shanghaied on some boat to China,” added Adam with a grin. He turned back to Ben. “I’ll stop by Roy Coffee’s office tomorrow when I go to Virginia City to catch the stage. I’ll talk to him about looking for those rustlers.” 

“I’m sure Roy’s doing the best he can,” said Ben. “But it’s not a bad idea to let him know we’re concerned. Tell him if he needs any help to let me know.” 

“The sheriff had better catch those rustlers red-handed if he wants to send them to jail,” grumbled Joe. “Otherwise, he’s going to waste his time.” 

“Roy knows what he’s doing,” said Ben with a frown. “He’ll get the evidence he needs. He’ll make sure those rustlers go to jail.” 

Joe looked thoughtful. “Maybe I ought to take a look around,” he said. “See if I can find any trace of those rustlers.” 

“You have enough to do around here without chasing after rustlers,” Ben said quickly. “You let Roy worry about catching law breakers.” 

“Catching them is evidently the easy part,” said Joe with a shake of his head. 

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

“Joe, I have a couple of jobs I need you to do for me today,” said Ben to his youngest son over the breakfast table. 

Joe groaned to himself. Adam had left for San Francisco three days ago, his father’s advice and admonitions still ringing in his ears as he rode away. Since then, Joe’s workload at the ranch seemed to have doubled. Every time he turned around, his father seemed to have another task for him to do.  Joe wondered where all the work was coming from. Having one less hand around the Ponderosa shouldn’t have made that much difference. 

Joe turned his father, his face reflecting weary resignation. “Yes sir,” Joe said with a sigh. “What’s on the list for today? Want me to plow and plant hay on the whole south range?” 

Ben’s lips twitched with amusement at Joe’s exaggerated complaint. He knew he had been working Joe hard for the last few days. With Adam gone, there were extra chores for each of them to do. But mostly, Ben had wanted to keep Joe so busy that he wouldn’t have the time or energy to think about chasing after rustlers. Rustlers were usually dangerous, desperate men, and he had no desire for his son to confront such men.  But after three days of hard work, Ben figured Joe had earned a break. Besides, Joe hadn’t mentioned the rustlers since Adam had left. Ben hoped Joe had forgotten about them. 

“No, I think we can leave the south range as it is,” Ben said, trying to hide his smile. “I want you to ride over to the Marshall place and pay Grant Marshall for those horses we’re buying. Then I want you to ride into Virginia City and pick up the mail.” 

“But, Pa, Mr. Marshall said those horses wouldn’t be ready until next week,” said Hoss with a puzzled air from across the table. “Why do you want to pay for them now?” 

“Because Grant Marshall has a cash flow problem,” explained Ben. “When I was at the feed store yesterday, I overheard one of the clerks gossiping. The clerk shouldn’t have been talking about it, but he mentioned that Grant Marshall has a big bill there that he can’t pay.  Grant’s got everything tied up in stock, in those horses and his herd. Until he starts selling the stock, Grant’s got no money. It won’t hurt for us to pay for those horses now.” 

“Yeah, that’s got to hard for him with all those youngsters of his,” agree Hoss. “Seems every time I’m in the store, Mrs. Grant is buying shoes for one of them.” 

“Pa, it’s not that I don’t agree with you,” said Joe. “But Mr. Marshall is a pretty proud man. He’s liable to look at it as charity or something if we pay him in advance.” 

“You just tell him that I have a business reason for paying him in advance,” advised Ben. “Tell him we don’t want a lot of cash money around and we’ll be too busy to get to the bank next week.” 

“All right,” said Joe doubtfully. He faced lit up with a thought. “Uh, Pa,” said Joe, “it’s liable to take me quite awhile to get to the Marshall place and then into Virginia City. I could be gone most of the day.” 

“That’s true,” agreed Ben with a nod. He looked at his son with a stern expression. “You just be sure you’re home in time for supper.” Ben’s stern expression melted into a warm smile. 

“Yes sir,” said Joe with enthusiasm. 

Hoss shook his head. “Pa, I’ll bet you dollars to donuts that he finds a reason to be late,” predicted Hoss. 

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

Joe looked around the Marshall ranch with surprise as he rode up to the house. The ranch looked unusually quiet. Dave Marshall had five brothers and sisters, and usually the place was bustling with activity. Dave’s two older sisters were married, but one or the other of them always seemed to be visiting their parents. The younger two boys and girl were school-age, but they had a talent for finding excuses not to go to school. Joe couldn’t remember the last time he rode up to the Marshall house when one of the kids wasn’t around.  Joe stopped his horse in front of the hitching post in the front yard and tied the reins lightly around the post. He took another look around. He could see a herd of horses in a large corral some distance away, behind the barn. An unhitched wagon was parked in front of the barn. The ranch had a neat, tidy look, albeit a surprisingly empty one.  Joe knocked loudly on the front door, wondering if anyone was home. The door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair stood on the other side. The man’s weather-beaten face showed surprise. 

“Joe Cartwright!” said Grant Marshall. “What brings you over this way?” 

“Hi, Mr. Marshall,” returned Joe. “My Pa sent me over on some business.” 

“Business?” said Marshall with a frown. His eyes looked wary. “What kind of business?” 

“Whatever it is, you don’t need to be discussing it on the doorstep,” called a woman’s voice from behind Marshall. “Invite Joe in.” 

Grant grinned and shrugged his shoulders. He pulled the door open and stepped aside. “Peggy’s right,” said Grant. “Come on in, Joe.” 

Joe stepped into the large house. He entered into a small foyer, flanked by two large rooms. The sitting room was to Joe’s left, and he glimpsed the large fireplace and worn sofa in the room as he entered. To his right was the dinning room, with a large table covered by a white cloth. Peggy Marshall walked toward Joe from the dinning room. 

“Hello, Joe,” said Mrs. Marshall warmly. “We haven’t seen you in awhile.” 

Joe quickly removed his hat. “Hello, ma’am,” he said quickly. 

“Well, what’s this business you got for your Pa?” asked Marshall from behind Joe. 

“Grant, I swear, you have no more manners than our youngsters,” said Peggy with a sigh. She turned to Joe. “Come on into the dinning room. I just made some fresh coffee. You can join us.” Peggy turned and walked back into the room. 

Joe turned to Marshall and looked at him with a quizzical expression. Marshall grinned and clapped Joe on the back. “Come have some coffee,” said Marshall. 

Joe walked into the dinning room. He was surprised to see Dave sitting at the table. Papers and ledgers were spread across the table, and it was evident that the Marshalls had been using the table as a desk. A pot of coffee with several cups sat on the end of the table. 

“Hi, Joe,” Dave greeted his friend. His voice tried to convey enthusiasm, but Joe could see a worried look in Dave’s eyes. 

“Let me get you some coffee,” said Marshall, moving to the end of the table. 

“No, that’s all right,” said Joe. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope. “I just stopped by because Pa wants to pay you for the horses he’s buying.” Joe dropped the envelope on the table. 

Peggy Marshall looked at her husband with arched eyebrows. Dave also turned to his father, a look of relief on his face. Grant Marshall glanced at the envelope on the table, then looked at Joe with a stony expression. “Why is he paying for them now?” asked Marshall coldly. “I told him those horses wouldn’t be delivered for another week or so.” 

“Pa doesn’t want a lot of money around the ranch,” explained Joe. “And he’s not sure when he’s going to get to the bank again. He just figured it was better to pay you now.” 

Marshall looked down at the envelope, obviously trying to decide what to do. 

“Grant,” said Peggy in a soft voice. “Ben’s just paying us in advance. He’s not giving us anything. You’re going to deliver those horses next week anyway.” 

Marshall continued to stare at the envelope. Finally, he took a deep breath and reached for the envelope. “Tell your Pa I said thanks,” said Marshall gruffly. 

Dave’s face broke into a smile, and Peggy let out a sigh of relief. Joe grinned at the pair.  

“I’ve got four of those horses ready to go,” said Marshall. “You’d best take them back to the ranch with you so your Pa will have something for his money now.” 

Joe looked at Marshall in dismay. “Uh, well, I’m not exactly heading right back to the ranch,” said Joe. “I was heading to Virginia City to get the mail. We’ll get the horses next week.” 

Marshall dropped the envelope back on the table. “Well, then I can’t accept this, Joe,” said Marshall firmly. “I don’t take money without giving something in kind.” 

Joe saw the look of worry flash back across Dave and his mother’s face. Joe sighed. “All right,” he said. “I’ll take the horses.” 

“Of course, it might be easier if Dave here helped you with the horses,” said Marshall, picking up the envelope again. A smile creased the man’s face. “He could deliver the horses to the Ponderosa and then go into Virginia City with you. We probably got some mail stacked up there, too.” 

“I think that’s a good idea, Pa,” said Dave, trying to keep the grin off his face. “Four horses is a lot for Joe to handle by himself.” 

“Yeah,” said Joe with an answering grin. “I could probably use some help.” 

Marshall reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. He flipped the coin to Dave who caught it in the air. “You boys might want to get a beer or something while you’re in town,” he said, his smile widening. “Delivering horses is hard work.” 

“Thanks, Pa,” said Dave gratefully. He turned to Joe. “Well, don’t just stand there, Cartwright. We got some horses to deliver.” 

Half an hour later, Joe was standing next to the corral admiring two bay and two roan horses which Dave was holding by their halters. Joe nodded as he looked over the animals. “There good stock,” said Joe to Grant Marshall, who was standing next to him. “Pa is going to be pleased.” 

“I’m glad,” said Marshall. He turned and looked over the rest of the animals in the corral. “We’ll have the rest of them ready next week, like I promised.” Marshall took a deep breath. “You tell your Pa thanks,” he added without looking at Joe. “That money is sure going to come in handy.” 

Joe nodded and walked over to his pinto which had moved down by the corral. He vaulted into the saddle, then walked the horse over to the corral. Reaching down, he grabbed the lead to the halters from Dave, then waited while Dave also mounted. Dave brought his horse near Joe’s and took two of the leads. 

“I’ll see you at supper, Pa,” said Dave, chucking his horse forward. He led two of the horses away from the corral, and Joe followed with the other two. 

Dave and Joe were passing the house, heading toward the road, when Peggy Marshall ran from the house, waving a jacket in her hands. “Davey! Davey!” she shouted. “Don’t forget your jacket!”  She rushed up to her son who had pulled his horse to a stop. She handed the jacket up to Dave. “It’s liable to get chilly,” she said. “You’d best take this with you.” 

Dave rolled his eyes and took the jacket. “Thanks, Ma,” he said briefly. He quickly stuck the jacket under the back of his saddle. 

“Now you boys be careful,” she admonished. “And be sure to eat something.” 

“We will, Ma,” said Dave. “We’ve got to go.” Dave chucked his horse forward and started down the road. Joe nodded toward Mrs. Marshall and followed his friend. 

“Don’t say a word,” said Dave tersely as Joe rode up next to him on the road. 

“Hey, you’re not going to get any grief from guy who’s family still calls him ‘Little’ Joe sometimes,” said Joe with a grin. 

Dave grinned back. “Do you think our folks are ever going to figure we’re grown up?” asked Dave. 

“I doubt it,” answered Joe. “I figure I’m going to have explain to my grandchildren why my Pa still calls me Little Joe.” 

“Well, maybe we can do something to show them we’re not kids any more,” suggested Dave. 

“We can try,” answered Joe. “But I have feeling we’re always going to be about 12 to our folks.” 

Dave nodded in agreement. “You know what we were doing when you came by?” he said. “We were trying to figure out how to pay the bills and make ends meet until Pa sold those horses.” 

“I thought it might be something like that,” said Joe, remembering the papers and ledgers on the table. 

“This is the first time I can ever remember my Pa including me in something like that,” said Dave. “Usually, he and Ma work on things like that without me.” 

“Well, doesn’t that prove your Pa doesn’t think of you as a kid?” asked Joe. 

“Yeah, maybe,” agreed Dave thoughtfully. “I’d sure like to do something to help him more, though. It be nice if I do something to show him he doesn’t need to think me as just one of the kids.” 

“Yeah, right,” said Joe with a distracted air. He was looking up at the sun. “Dave, you know, it’s going to take us all day to get these horses back to the Ponderosa if we follow the road,” said Joe. “That won’t give us much time in Virginia City.” 

“I think that’s what my Pa had in mind,” said Dave with a grin. 

“I’ve been thinking. If we cut over Sutter’s Ridge, that would save us some time,” said Joe. “We could go into the Ponderosa by the back road, drop off the horses and still have plenty of time for Virginia City.” 

Dave thought for a minute. “Sutter’s Ridge is kind of rough trail,” he said. 

“What’s the matter? Don’t you think these nags of yours can make it?” teased Joe with a grin. 

Dave looked at this friend and smiled. “I think Sutter’s Ridge is a good idea,” said Dave. 

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

An hour later, Joe and Dave were slowly guiding the horses down the backside of the ridge. The trail curved through large rocks and dense brush, masking the riders from anyone’s view. The trail led to a flat stretch of ground that wound through the tall rocks. Canyons and ravines were carved into the thick rock on either side of the flat ground. Not many people traveled the rough country; there were easier trails to almost anywhere. That’s why Joe and Dave were surprised to see another rider in the distance as they reached the bottom of the ridge trail.   

“Hey, Joe,” said Dave, peering at the rider. “Isn’t that Pete Bishop?” 

Joe looked down the trail. “It sure looks like him,” agreed Joe. “Wonder what he’s doing up here?” 

“Nothing good, I’d guess,” said Dave. He looked around. “You know, there are two or three places around here where some rustlers could hide a herd.” 

Joe nodded in agreement. “It wouldn’t be easy to get cattle in here,” he said, “but you could do it.” Joe looked at his friend. “Why don’t we just follow Mr. Bishop for a bit and see where he’s going.” 

“That’s just what I was thinking,” said Dave. 

Joe and Dave turned their horses in the direction of the distant figure. They rode slowly, keeping a good distance between themselves and the rider far ahead of them. The man ahead seemed unconcerned about being followed. He never looked back. Joe and Dave increased their pace, wanting to make sure they didn’t lose sight of the man in the twists and turns of the trail. They had been following the lone rider for about twenty minutes when Dave pulled his horse to a halt. 

“You know where he’s heading?” asked Dave. “Fish Hook Canyon. That’s the only place he could be going if he keeps riding east like this. And that’s a pretty good place to hide a herd of cattle.” 

Joe thought about the canyon. It has been named Fish Hook because of the tall hills on one side and half way up the other. The tall hills formed a J around an expanse of grassy meadow and a small stream. Where the hills abruptly stopped, there was a steep ravine that led to a narrow cleft in the rocks. A few men could easily keep a big herd bottled up in Fish Hook Canyon. 

Joe put his hand on the holster tied to his hip. “Let’s cut through the gorge,” he said. “I’ve got a real interest in seeing what’s in Fish Hook Canyon.” 

The sun was high in the sky as Joe and Dave crept through the brush above Fish Hook Canyon. They had tied the horses near a stream on the far side of the hill, and climbed through the rocks and brush to the top of the canyon. It had been a hard climb, but now as they looked down into the canyon, both felt the climb had been worth the effort.  At the far end of the canyon, where the rocks formed a U, a herd of cattle stood grazing. Joe figured there must be close to a hundred cattle standing placidly among the rocks. Dave nudged Joe and pointed directly below them.  Near the area where the hills ended and the ground dropped off into the ravine, four men sat around a campfire. Two were drinking coffee, while a third poked at the fire with an iron rod. The fourth seemed to be calculating something on a piece of paper. None were paying any attention to the hills above the canyon. 

“You know any of them?” said Dave in a low voice to Joe. 

Joe studied the men below. “Besides Bishop, I can see Carl Sand,” answered Joe in an equally low voice. “He’s the one in the red shirt. The one in the blue shirt is named Perkins, I think. I don’t know the fourth one. 

Dave looked at Joe. “What do you want to do now?” he asked. 

“Well,” said Joe slowly. “We could ride out and get the sheriff.” 

“By the time we get back with the law, they could be gone,” protested Dave. “Besides, there’s only four of them.” 

“Yeah, but there’s only two of us,” answered Joe. 

“We can handle them,” said Dave confidently. “We’ll get the drop on them. They won’t even know we’re here until we right on top of them. We’ll take them back to Virginia City all tied up. ” Dave’s eyes took on a dreamy look.  He was obviously picturing a triumphant ride into Virginia City. “That’ll show my Pa,” he said softly. 

Joe didn’t reply. He chewed his lip thoughtfully and stared down the hill. “Maybe it’d be better to get the law,” said Joe slowly. 

 Dave could see the hesitation in Joe’s eyes. “We’ve got them red-handed, Joe,” he said. “We’ve got all the evidence that any judge would want. We can get them, Joe. You know we can. I promise you nothing will go wrong.” 

Joe studied the hillside below. It was heavily covered with brush and rocks. A man could climb down the hill without being seen. “All right,” agreed Joe.

He turned to Dave and grinned. “Let’s go, hero.” 

Joe and Dave worked their way down the hill slowly and carefully, keeping an eye on the camp as they descended. The four men seemed unaware of their presence. It seemed it took a long time to climb down the hill, but in reality, Joe and Dave were at the bottom in just a few minutes. Joe stopped and crouched behind a rock near the bottom of the hill. Dave slid in next to Joe.  Joe pulled his gun out and checked to make sure it was fully loaded. He glanced at his friend to make sure Dave had his gun out and ready. Dave waved his gun, signaling his eagerness to move forward. Joe took a deep breath and jumped out from behind the rock. 

“All right, get your hands in the air!” shouted Joe, pointing his gun at the men around the fire. 

The four men turned toward the direction of the shout, their faces clearly showing their shock and surprise. 

“You heard him,” shouted Dave, stepping out from behind the rock. “Get those hands in the air!” 

The four men around the fire slowly raised their hands. Joe and Dave walked closer to the campfire. Joe kept his eyes on the men, ready to shoot if any made a move toward a gun. But the four men simply sat by the fire with their hands in the air. 

“Looks like we got ourselves a couple of pups trying to act like men,” snarled Pete Bishop as Joe and Dave approached. 

“These pups got teeth,” said Dave. “So don’t try anything unless you want a bullet.” 

“Careful, Dave,” muttered Joe. Dave nodded once. 

Bishop glanced at the man to his right, Carl Sand. Sand looked back with a steady gaze.  Joe and Dave stood over the men with their guns. “Throw away your guns,” ordered Joe. “Do it nice and easy.”  The four men reached down slowly. Each pulled a pistol from a holster and each tossed the pistol away. Joe let out a sigh of relief. 

“All right, now lay face down on the ground,” ordered Joe. 

Bishop glanced again at Sand. This time Sand made an almost imperceptible nod. Bishop leaned forward as if he were going to follow Joe’s orders. Suddenly, he grabbed the running iron that was laying next to the fire. He swung the iron quickly from the ground, crashing it into Joe’s wrist. Joe let out a yelp of pain as he felt the iron smash into his wrist. He heard a crack as if a bone were breaking and felt his hand go numb. His pistol dropped from his fingers.  Almost simultaneously, Carl Sand reached down and grabbed a handful of dirt. He threw the dirt directly in Dave’s face. Dave put his left hand to his face instinctively, trying to brush the dirt from his eyes. Sand brought his foot up and kicked Dave’s gun out of his right hand.  The four rustlers sprang at the two young cowboys. Joe tried to grab his gun from the ground, but a body slammed into his as he bent down. Joe flailed at the body with his right fist, and felt his fist land solidly against a jaw. Joe heard a grunt of pain and surprise, but another fist pounded into Joe’s side before he could take another swing. Joe struggled and kicked, trying to get away from the two men on top of him, but it was a useless exercise. He was pinned to the ground by one set of arms, while another delivered repeated blows to his face. A small groan escaped from Joe’s lips as his body went limp.  Bishop and Perkins climbed off Joe and looked around. Sand and the fourth rustler were standing over Dave. The rustler’s would-be captors were now sprawled unconscious on the ground.  Bishop picked up Joe’s gun and pointed it at Joe. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” yelled Sand. 

“I’m going to finish me off a young pup,” snarled Bishop. He cocked the gun. 

“You fire that gun and you’re liable to stampede those cattle,” replied Sand. “I don’t know about you, but I’m in no mood to go rounding them up.” 

Bishop uncocked the gun and looked around uncertainly. “Well, what do you want to do with them?” he asked. “We can’t just leave them here. They’ll have the law after us in no time.” 

Sand looked around, trying to decide what to do. A slow smile crossed his face as he saw the ravine. “Let’s toss them down the ravine,” he said. “If the fall doesn’t kill them, they’ll die from cold or thirst. Ain’t no way they’ll be able to crawl up that ravine.” 

Bishop looked to the ravine and nodded his agreement. “After we get rid them, we’d better light out,” he said, turning back to the other men. “If they found us, a posse might.” 

Sand jerked his head toward the fourth rustler and the two men moved toward Dave. Bishop and Perkins turned to Joe.  A stab of pain from his injured wrist pulled Joe back to at least semi-consciousness. He felt a pair of hands gripping each of his arms, and felt himself being dragged over the ground. His boots scrapped the dirt, and his legs were jolted by the rough ground. Joe lifted his head and saw the ravine looming in front of him. 

“No!” cried Joe as he realized he was about to be thrown into the chasm. He struggled to free his arms, but the hands only tightened their grip. Joe dug his feet into the ground and jerked his right arm. The grip on his arm seemed to loosen, and Joe pulled it free. Joe swung his arm around quickly, landing his fist into the midsection of the body to his left. The punch was a weak one, but it had enough power to force a small grunt from the body. Joe felt the hands on his left arm go slack and he pulled that arm free.  Joe fell to the ground. He winced with pain as his injured wrist hit the hard ground. Joe tried to scramble to his feet but he could only put his weight on one arm. He managed to push himself off the ground, but he felt awkward and unsteady. Suddenly, Joe felt a strong push against his side and back.  He tumbled to his left, landing on his side. Almost instantly, a foot pushed him over the edge of the ravine.  Joe felt himself rolling down the steep slope. His body seemed to bounce off the hard ground, and his right leg twisted under him. Joe reached out his right arm, trying to grab something that would stop the fall. All he managed to do was turn his body so he was now sliding down the hill on his stomach. Dirt and gravel scraped the skin from his face and chest, and his leg twisted even further underneath him. Joe felt his upper body angling to the right, and his ribs slammed into a rock. Joe bounced off the rock and continued what felt like an endless slide down the slope. Joe could feel the rough ground jarring his body. Finally, Joe’s left leg hit the bottom of the ravine, stopping the slide with a jolt. 

 Joe laid on his stomach against the steep hill, winded and dazed. His body felt pummeled, and pain seemed to flood through him. Joe heard another object crashing down the ravine to his right, but Joe didn’t have the strength to open his eyes to look. Every nerve in his body seemed to be sending messages of pain to his brain. Joe felt as if he couldn’t breath, and when he tried to gulp for air, his side and chest radiated with a fiery protest. Joe tried to move, but movement set off another wave of agonizing pain. Joe felt himself sliding again, but this time it was into a dark pool of unconsciousness. And this time, Joe did nothing to stop the slide. 

*********

“Hey, Pa, I got all that hay into the loft,” said Hoss as he sauntered into the ranch house of the Ponderosa. 

Ben looked up from his desk where he was working. He watched as Hoss casually tossed his hat on the bureau near the door and walked over to the desk. “Did you leave four bales near the stalls?” he asked his middle son. 

Hoss nodded. “Yep,” he said. “Just like you said. Four bales near the stalls and the rest in the loft. Everything is neat and stacked.” Hoss rubbed his hands. “I worked up a bit of an appetite,” he added, looking back toward the kitchen. “I thought I’d have myself a little snack to tide me over until dinner.” 

“You work up an appetite walking to the barn,” said Ben gruffly. Then he smiled. “But I think Hop Sing can manage to find something to hold you.” 

A knock on the door cut short Hoss’ reply. Hoss looked toward the door, his eyebrows arched in surprise. “Wonder who that could be?” he asked. 

“Why don’t you answer it and find out,” replied Ben with an exaggerated air. 

“What? Oh, yeah, sure, Pa,” said Hoss quickly. He walked to the front door of the house and pulled it open. Hoss’ look of surprise widened when he saw Grant Marshall standing on the porch. 

“Mr. Marshall,” said Hoss. “What are you doing here?” 

“Hello, Hoss,” replied Marshall. “I came to see your Pa. Is he around?” 

“Yeah, he’s right here,” answered Hoss. He pulled the door wider. “Come on in.” 

Marshall walked into the house with wide strides and looked around. Ben was coming from around the desk. Marshall saw him and walked toward the desk. 

“Hello, Ben,” said Marshall. 

“Hello, Grant,” said Ben with a welcoming smile. “What brings you to the Ponderosa.” 

Marshall shifted his weight and looked at a point past Ben. “Ben, I want to thank you for paying for those horses now,” he said in an uncomfortable voice. 

Ben waved his hand. “Don’t think anything of it,” replied Ben, dismissing Marshall’s thanks. “It helped me and you to take care of it now.” 

“I don’t know about you,” said Marshall. “But that money is going to be a big help to me now. I want you to know that.” 

“Well, I’m glad,” said Ben with a small shrug. “But I’m even happier to be getting those horses. We need your stock. Those horses will fill out the herd we’re trying to build, and improve our bloodlines.” 

Marshall seemed relieved. He gave Ben a small smile. “I’m glad we’re both going to benefit from this deal,” he said. 

Ben nodded. “Grant, you didn’t have to ride over here to tell me that,” said Ben. 

“I didn’t,” admitted Marshall. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here’s the bill of sale for those horses. I forgot to give it to Joe when he was at my place.” 

Ben held out his hand. “You don’t have to give me that now,” he said. “Wait until you deliver the horses.” 

“This isn’t for all of them,” explained Marshall quickly. “This is just for the four horses Joe brought back. I meant to give it to him before he left, but it slipped my mind.” 

Ben frowned and looked at Hoss. “Did Joe come back with any horses?” he asked Hoss. 

Hoss slowly shook his head. “I haven’t seen Joe since breakfast,” said Hoss. “We haven’t fixed the fence on the south corral, so the only place Joe could have brought them horses is either the corral outside or the barn. I’ve been in the barn all day unloading the hay. Joe hasn’t been there.” 

Ben turned back to Marshall. “When did Joe leave your place?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern. 

Now it was Marshall’s turn to frown. “A couple of hours ago,” he answered. “He and Dave were going to bring those horses back here, and then they both were going to Virginia City.” Marshall looked toward Hoss. “Are you sure they didn’t get here?” 

“They never showed up here,” answered Hoss. He looked at Ben. “Do you think Joe and Dave headed right for Virginia City?” 

“With four horses in tow? I doubt it,” said Ben, his concern growing. He turned to Marshall. “Are you sure they were heading to the Ponderosa?” 

“I’m sure,” said Marshall, his voice echoing Ben’s concern. “I saw them leading those horses down the road toward here. Virginia City is in the opposite direction from my place.” 

“Do you see any sign of them along the road?” asked Ben. “Any sign of any trouble?” 

Marshall shook his head. “No, nothing,” he replied. He looked at Ben with a troubled face. “Where could they have gone?” 

“I don’t know,” said Ben. His frown deepened. 

“Pa,” said Hoss thoughtfully. “You don’t think Joe and Dave could have cut over Sutter’s Ridge, do you? Going over the ridge would have save them some time.” 

“Dave knows better than that,” protested Marshall. “Those horses were green broke, and that trail is pretty rough. He wouldn’t have gone that way.” 

Ben cocked his head. “You said they were planning to go to Virginia City after they delivered the horses?” asked Ben. “Maybe they decided to try it if they were in a hurry.” 

“Well, maybe,” admitted Marshall. He took a deep breath. “Those horses were broke good. Dave and Joe could have gotten them over the ridge. I’m sure if they went that way, they would have managed all right. Those boys, they know what they’re doing.” 

Ben nodded, but his face reflected his uncertainty. 

Suddenly Marshall turned and started walking toward to the door. 

Ben watched him for a minute. “You going to Sutter’s Ridge?” he called after Marshall. 

Marshall stopped and turned back to Ben. He nodded curtly. 

“I’m going with you,” said Ben, hurrying toward the door. 

“Me, too,” added Hoss. 

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

Joe felt himself drifting slowly out of the fog that seemed to engulf him. He could feel the hard ground under his body, and he could smell the dirt. Joe heard a crow screeching somewhere in this distance. And he could feel the fiery pain that seemed to be burning through his body.  Joe lay still. He sensed that any movement was just going to make things worse. He concentrated on taking small, short breaths and hoped that would ease the pain. Joe wondered for a moment about where he was, about what had happened to him. Then the memory of the rustlers and that terrible slide down the ravine came flooding back.  Joe wasn’t sure how long he lay on the cold ground without moving. Time had lost all meaning for him. But finally, the pain seemed to ease into a dull, throbbing ache. Joe decided to take inventory, and to try to find some part of his body that would work. He opened his eyes a fraction, not enough to focus, but enough to enable him to see the blurred image of his own arm and hand.  Joe’s right hand was laying near his face.  He concentrated on moving his fingers on his right hand, and was rewarded by being able to curl them without another stab of pain. He lifted his right arm and moved it slowly before letting it fall back on the ground. Joe noted with satisfaction that at least his right arm obeyed his commands.  Joe’s left arm was curled under his body. He started to pull his arm free, and felt a jolt of pain from his wrist. Joe groaned and quickly stopped the movement.  All right, Joe thought. Legs next. Joe’s right leg was twisted under his left. Joe could feel a throbbing in his right knee, and the unnatural position seemed to be putting pressure on his leg. Joe concentrated on curling his toes in his boots, and felt the toes moving. He lifted his left leg slightly, and started to slide his other leg out. Joe felt a stab of pain in his knee, and the muscles in his leg seemed to burn. But this time Joe didn’t stop. He gritted his teeth and pulled his leg free. He straightened his leg as much as his throbbing knee would allow. That movement eased the pressure and the pain. 

Joe laid still again, his breath coming in short pants. He felt something trickle down into his eye, and his eye blinked away the irritation. Joe’s face and chest burned, and he figured he must have scraped away a layer of skin in the fall. Each breath brought a small stab of pain from his ribs. Joe wonder briefly about the fact that so many parts of his body seemed to be competing to cause him pain.  Joe considered his situation carefully, and he didn’t like what he concluded.  No one knew where he was. His father and brother wouldn’t even know he was missing until after dinner, and it would be morning before they could start looking for him. Even then, it might be days before they headed toward Fish Hook Canyon. There would be no reason for them to search in the direction of the canyon.  If he was going to get out of this, Joe decided, he was going to have to do it by himself. Joe let out a short, bitter laugh. Right, he thought. All he had to do was climb out of the ravine, then walk almost twelve miles to the nearest ranch. All on one good leg, and with one good arm.  An unmeasured time past before Joe decided to try moving again. His numerous aches seemed to be receding into dull throbs. Joe pressed his right hand into the ground and slowly lifted his head. He winced as he felt his face being ripped from the ground. His cheek had seemed glued to the dirt by some sticky substance. Joe blinked his eyes open and looked up.  Joe could see the edge of the ravine about thirty feet above him. As far as Joe was concerned, the edge of the ravine might have been thirty miles above him. The hill was steep, almost vertical, and the ground looked hard and solid. Joe knew climbing up the ravine was an impossible task.  Joe turned his head. His eyes widened as he saw another body to his right. The body seemed curled around a large rock. Joe could see an arm resting against the hillside. A shock of strawberry blonde hair rested on the edge of the rock. 

“Dave!” cried Joe in a voice that was little more than a whisper. 

Joe felt his right arm begin to tremble, and he fell back to the ground. Joe let out a grunt of pain and winced. He laid still for a minute, then forced his eyes open again. 

“Dave,” said Joe again, his voice slightly louder. “Dave, can you hear me?” 

The body on the rock lay still. 

Joe took a deep breath, wincing again at the pain the effort caused. “Dave! Answer me!” ordered Joe. He watched the body carefully, but there was no movement. “Dave, we’ve got to get out of here,” said Joe in a softer voice. “You hear me? We’ve…we’ve got to get those rustlers.”  Joe waited and watched, his breaths coming in short gasps. There was no movement, no sound from the rock. “Please, Dave,” Joe pleaded. “Answer me.” 

The still body on the rock seemed to mock Joe. Joe felt an irrational rage at being ignored. “Dave,” said Joe in an angry voice. “You hear me? You promised me nothing would go wrong.”  Joe gasped for breath and winced.

“You promised me, Dave,” Joe said in a quieter voice. 

Joe felt a stab of pain from his ribs. His breathing was more labored and his body seemed to conspiring once more to cause him a lot of pain. The agonizing pain caused his stomach to churn and his head to ache. Joe wondered if he how long he could endure such misery.  The answer, it seemed, was not long in coming. Joe sensed the fog descending slowly around him again. “You promised,” Joe muttered as he began to drift into now familiar the fog. “You promised.” 

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

The three riders slowly descended the steep trail on the far side of  Sutter’s Ridge. Their slow progress was only partially caused by the tricky trail. Each man was also looking for some sign of other riders who might have recently used the trail. 

“Somebody sure came this way,” said Grant Marshall when the riders reached the bottom of the trail. “There’s tracks and broken branches all over the place.” 

Ben looked around the empty expanse of the flat ground. “If it was Joe and Dave,” he said in a puzzled voice, “where did they go?” 

Hoss slipped off his horse and knelt on the ground. He studied the tracks, his heading turning as his eyes followed the prints. “Pa,” said Hoss, “these tracks lead away from the Ponderosa. They’re heading toward the canyons.” 

“The canyons?” asked Marshall. “Are you sure?” 

Hoss nodded as he stood. “Yep,” he said as he climbed back on his horse. “You can see the prints of five or six horses. Two sets are pretty deep, like the horses are being ridden. The rest of are lighter, and closer together. Like the horses were being led.” 

“It has to be Joe and Dave,” Ben declared. He looked in the direction of the tall rocks in the distance. “But why would they go in that direction?” he asked. 

“I don’t know, Pa,” answered Hoss as he turned his horse. “But I’m sure going to find out.” 

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

Joe felt the sweat running down his face and into his eyes. He shivered, and wondered how he could be hot and cold at the same time. He knew he wasn’t thinking straight. His mind seemed crowded with all kinds of blurred and unrelated thoughts. He wondered how he could be hurting so much and still be alive. He had given up on the thought of movement. He knew it was probably cowardly of him, but he just could bear to cause himself any more pain. It was easier to simply lie still, hugging the dirt, and praying for any kind of relief.  A cloud passed over the sun, and Joe wondered if a rainstorm was going to add to his misery. The thought of rain brought the suggestion of water to his mind. Joe wished he hadn’t thought of that. His mouth felt dry and gritty, and his thirst was growing. Joe tried to push the thought of water from his mind. 

Joe looked toward the body still curled against the rock. He was no longer angry at it. It’s presence actually brought him comfort. Somehow, Joe felt less alone, less abandoned when he could see his friend. Dave hadn’t answered any of Joe’s repeated calls. Somehow, Joe knew he wouldn’t. But that didn’t stop Joe from trying. 

“Dave,” Joe croaked through dry lips. “Dave, your Pa is sure going to be mad at you. He’s going to be real upset. You shouldn’t have done this to him.”  

Joe knew he wasn’t making sense, but he couldn’t seem to stop talking. He felt himself babbling on about Dave and his Pa, about the rustlers, and about the horses they had been bringing to the Ponderosa. He talked until his dry throat stopped him. 

A moment of clarity seemed to break through Joe’s tortured thoughts. He looked across to the rock. “Dave,” Joe whispered. “I’m going to make them pay for this. I promise you. They’re not going to get off this time. I’m going to make sure they pay for what they did to us.” 

Joe closed his eyes and felt the dull, throbbing pain cascading through him.  Joe gritted his teeth. He was determined to survive. Somehow, some way, he was going to stay alive until he was found. He was going to make sure those rustlers were caught and punished. Staying alive was the only way he could be sure it would happen.  Joe’s thoughts drifted to the four men who had so callously pushed him and his friend into the ravine and then left them. Joe concentrated on their faces, burning the images into his mind. He felt a hate growing in him, and he nourished that hate. The hate would help keep him alive.  Joe felt himself drifting into a fog yet again. The pattern was becoming familiar. The pain would pull him out of the fog and he would endure the agony until his brain could no longer stand it. Then he would drift back into the fog. Joe wondered how many times he would drift back and forth like this, how long he would have to endure the bouts of agony until someone found him. Each time he woke, Joe felt weaker. Joe reached inside him and felt for the hate. It was there, deep down, like a knot in his stomach. Joe let himself drift off into the fog. He knew he would drift out of it again. The hate was like an anchor, pulling him back. Joe kept a firm grasp on the hate as he slowly lost consciousness again. 

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

Hoss led Ben and Grant Marshall slowly down the trail toward the canyons. Hoss kept his eyes glued to the faint tracks while the other two men called for their sons. Their shouts seemed to grow more desperate as the only answer was their own voices echoing through the canyon walls.  Hoss abruptly pulled his horse to a stop and held up his hand. Ben and Grant Marshall stopped their horses also. 

“What’s wrong, Hoss?” asked Ben in an anxious voice. 

Hoss didn’t answer. He slipped off his horse and knelt on the ground, studying the tracks in front of him. Hoss looked up and toward the canyon.  Then he looked down to the trail again. 

“Hoss, what do you see?” asked Marshall, his voice filled with an urgent plea. 

Hoss stood up and turned to the two men on the horses behind him. His face had a puzzled expression. 

“This don’t make any sense,” said Hoss. “The horse tracks…they’re gone. They’re covered up with a bunch of new tracks. It looks like a herd of cattle came through here. But that doesn’t seem likely. Who’d have a herd of cattle way up here?” 

Ben and Marshall turned to each other, both their eyes wide with fear. 

“Rustlers,” said Ben in a soft voice. 

Marshall swallowed hard. “If those boys ran into the rustlers….,” said Marshall in a trembling voice. He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. 

Ben turned to Hoss. “Can you see any sign of the horse tracks?” Ben asked. “Anything at all?” 

Hoss walked up the trail a bit, studying the ground. He turned back to the two men who were watching him with both hope and fear in their eyes. 

“It was a pretty good size herd,” said Hoss in a tight voice. “They wiped out all the tracks.” 

Marshall stood up in his stirrups and looked around. “Dave!” he yelled at the top of his voice. “Dave! Where are you? Answer me!”  Marshall’s voice bounced off the tall rocks. He waited anxiously for a reply. The only answer was the caw of a crow.  Ben looked off into the distance, his mind working furiously. He tried to think logically, to decide what was the best thing to do. He knew that panic could cause them to lose time, and he had a terrible feeling that time was running out for his son. 

“Hoss,” said Ben suddenly. “Can you tell where those cattle came from?” 

Hoss studied the tracks, and walked further down the trail. He left the trail, and walked slowly through the brush on the side. He looked up and seemed to be staring at some place far away. Hoss turned and walked back to the horses. 

“Those tracks come from one of the canyons down there to the left,” said Hoss. “I’ve been thinking, and if I was going to stash some cattle, I might just put them in Fish Hook Canyon. There’s good grass and water, and the rocks would make it easy for someone to keep them penned up.” 

“Let’s get to Fish Hook Canyon,” said Marshall, pulling on his horse. 

Hoss held up his hand to stop the man. “Hold on, Mr. Marshall,” he said quickly. “I’m just guessing. I ain’t for sure. It could be one of them other canyons.” 

“We have to start looking someplace,” said Marshall. “Fish Hook Canyon is as good a place as any.” 

Hoss looked to his father. Ben nodded his agreement. 

“All right,” said Hoss, climbing back on his horse. “Let’s go see what’s in Fish Hook Canyon.” 

The three men rode toward the canyon at a gallop, all of them eager to find some sign of Joe and Dave. As they neared the canyon, however, Ben held up his hand to halt the other riders. 

“We’d better go slow from here,” said Ben. “If those rustlers are in the canyon, we want to surprise them, not the other way around.” 

Marshall and Hoss nodded their agreement. 

Ben led his horse at a walk toward the canyon. He had only gone a few yards when he heard the whinny of a horse. He pulled his horse to a stop and listened. The faint sound of a whinny and the snort of two others horses seemed to be coming from Ben’s left. He pointed with his arm and guided his horse toward the sound.  Ben saw six horses tied securely in the brush. He didn’t recognize five of them, but the pinto was unmistakable. Ben stopped his horse and jumped from the saddle. He pulled his gun and walked slowly forward to the horses. 

“Joe!” called Ben in a loud whisper as he reached the horses. “Joe, are you here?”  The horses moved uneasily at the sound behind them. 

“Any sign of them?” asked Hoss as he came up to the horses. His gun was also drawn. Ben shook his head. 

“That’s Dave’s horse,” said Marshall as he walked up. “And Joe’s pinto, plus the four horses they were taking to the Ponderosa.” Marshall looked around anxiously. “Where are they, Ben?” 

“I don’t know,” answer Ben, thinking furiously once again. He cocked his head. “The rustlers wouldn’t have left these horses behind if they knew they were here,” said Ben in a slow voice. “So that means that Joe and Dave tied the horses here, out of sight, and went some place on foot.” 

“But where?” Marshall asked again, his anxiety growing. “Where did they do?” 

Ben looked up, and studied the hill next to them. “If you climbed that hill, you could see into the canyon,” said Ben. His face cleared as understanding seemed to dawn on him. “That’s what they did!” said Ben excitedly. “They climbed the hill, so they could look into the canyon from the top. They wanted to see what was in there without being seen.” 

“But, Pa, they ain’t there now,” said Hoss with a frown. “You can see that.” 

“They must have gone into the canyon,” said Ben. “They must have climbed down the other side of the hill and into the canyon.” He quickly shoved his gun back into his holster. “Come on,” he said, as turned and began walking quickly toward his horse. Hoss and Grant Marshall followed him at a run. 

Ben hoisted himself on his horse and turned the animal toward the mouth of the canyon. He resisted to urge to ride at a gallop into the canyon. Ben didn’t know exactly what was in that canyon, and he had no desire to ride into an ambush. More importantly, he didn’t want to do anything that might end up getting his son killed. So Ben rode slowly to the mouth of the canyon. But his hand opened and closed in anxious movement as he rode.  Ben stopped at the entrance to the canyon, and dismounted. He crept to the edge of the rocks and peered around them.  The inside of the canyon looked empty, deserted. Ben could see the remains of a fire near the edge of the ravine, and blades of grass that had seemingly had been trampled flat. Ben turned back to the two men he knew would be behind him. “Looks empty,” said Ben. He turned and mounted his horse once more. 

Ben, Hoss and Marshall rode slowly into the canyon. Each man had a pistol in his hand and each was alert for any sign of trouble. Ben guided the horses toward the ashes of the fire. He pulled his horse to a halt and his heart seemed to leap into his throat. Near the fire lay a familiar tan hat. The hat was crushed and battered.  Ben slid off his horse and ran to the hat. He picked it up off the ground and looked around. “Joe!” cried Ben in a frantic voice. “Joe, where are you?” 

Marshall and Hoss both dismounted and began to look around. Hoss walked to the edge of the ravine and looked down. 

“My God!” said Hoss in a whisper. Then he turned. “Pa, Mr. Marshall,” bellowed Hoss. “Over here. Quick!” The two men ran to Hoss. Hoss pointed wordlessly into the ravine. Both men took a sharp breath as they looked down.  One body was curled around a rock a few feet from the bottom of the ravine. The other was at the bottom of the ravine and was laying unmoving against the side of the hill. Ben and Grant Marshall looked at each other with wide, fearful eyes. 

“Get a rope!” cried Ben. 

Hoss ran back to his horse, and started to take the rope off the saddle. He froze suddenly, and frowned in thought. Hoss took the rope off the saddle, and walked to the other horses. He grabbed the ropes off both saddles also.  Then he rushed back and grabbed the reins of his horse. He led his horse to the edge of the ravine. 

Both Ben and Marshall were kneeling on the edge of the ravine, calling to their sons. Neither of the bodies below moved or called back. Hoss swallowed hard, then made himself get down to business. 

Hoss tied one end of a rope around the horn of his saddle. He unlooped the rope and found the end. Working quickly, he tied the end to the beginning of the second rope, pulling on the knot tightly to make sure it would hold. He quickly unlooped the second rope, and repeated the process with the third rope. Hoss scooped up the scatter rope from the ground and moved to the edge of the ravine. 

“Pa,” he said, putting his hand on his father’s shoulder. “It’s got to be close to thirty feet to the bottom of that ravine. I tied all the ropes together. I hope they’re long enough.” 

Ben looked over his shoulder to Hoss. “They will be,” said Ben. He grabbed the end of the now long rope and began to tie the rope around his waist. “I’ll go down first,” he said, without looking at Marshall. “As soon as I’m down, I’ll untie the rope and you can come down.” Ben looked at Hoss. “Think you can ease me down there?” he asked. 

“I’ll get you there,” said Hoss grimly. He turned to his horse, and quickly pulled a pair of gloves from under the saddle. Hoss slipped the gloves on his hand, then picked up the rope. He nodded his readiness. 

Ben slipped over the edge of the ravine, and slowly started to climb down the steep slope. He held on to the rope, which Hoss kept taut. As Ben worked his way down the slope, Hoss let out more rope.  It seemed to Ben it took a long time to work his way down the hill. He wanted to sprint down the side, but he knew that would be foolish. He would be of no help to the boys on the floor of the ravine if he fell. So Ben forced himself to ease down the slope carefully.  As he neared the bottom, Ben got a better look at Dave Marshall. He briefly closed his eyes. Then he looked up at Hoss and pointed to the body on the rock, indicating he was heading there first. Hoss’ eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded his understanding.  Ben was sure that he was only going to need a few moments with Dave. The way Dave was twisted around the rock and the unnatural angle of Dave’s neck told Ben that he wasn’t going to be able to help Grant Marshall’s son. But he had to be sure. 

Ben eased himself down next to Dave Marshall and knelt next to the body. He put his fingers on Dave’s neck and lowered his ear to the boy’s chest. Ben listened and felt for any sign of life. Then he straightened and turned toward the top of the ravine. He looked up at the men staring anxiously down at him. Slowly, Ben shook his head. He saw Grant Marshall cover his face with his hands.  Ben turned quickly and eased himself down toward Joe. Ben felt his heart hammering in his chest and a thick lump seemed to have formed in his throat as he climbed down. He could see Joe was laying flat against the dirt, and he didn’t seemed twisted unnaturally as Dave had been. But Joe was not moving, and he was unresponsive to Ben’s calls.  Ben knelt next to his son and quickly put his hand to Joe’s neck. He closed his eyes and sighed with relief when he felt the steady throb. Ben turned to the top of the ravine. He could see Hoss staring down with an anxious expression. 

“He’s alive!” Ben shouted in a voice choked emotion. Ben saw Hoss’ shoulders sag with relief. He also saw Grant Marshall staring transfixed at his son’s body. 

Ben quickly untied the rope around his waist. “As soon as you get Mr. Marshall down, get a canteen and toss it down to me,” shouted Ben. He turned back to Joe without waiting for an answer. 

Ben gently felt along Joe’s neck and ran his hand down his son’s spine. All the bones seemed to be aligned and intact. Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned Joe over on to his back. Ben took a sharp breath as he looked as his son.  The side of Joe’s face and his chest were scraped almost raw. Ben could see blood and tissue as well as the torn skin. Flecks of dirt and gravel were clinging to both wounds.  As ugly and painful as the wounds looked, Ben knew they weren’t serious enough to keep Joe at the bottom of the ravine. Ben began to check his son for other injuries. He could see some small cuts and bruises on Joe’s face.  Several bigger bruises, already turned to a deep blue, were peeking out of Joe’s shirt. Ben suspected Joe had a large collection of bruises.  Ben began to run his hands lightly over Joe’s body. As he probed his son, Ben heard the scrape of boots behind him and a soft sob. Ben didn’t look around.  He knew there was nothing he could do to help Grant Marshall or his son right now, and Ben had bigger worries.  Ben felt the depression on Joe’s right side, and knew his son had several broken ribs. He could see some small scrapes on Joe’s right palm. Joe’s left wrist laid at an odd angle and Ben felt the swollen tissue and ragged sharpness of the broken bones under the skin.  Ben ran his hands over Joe’s leg, and felt the swelling around his son’s left knee and the swollen tissue of his lower leg. Ben couldn’t feel any broken bones in either leg, but there was no question the muscles were bruised and damaged.  Ben was feeling Joe’s chest and abdomen when he heard the canteen land with a thud and start its slide down the ravine. He quickly turned to catch the canteen. He hadn’t felt anything unusual around Joe’s midsection and Joe hadn’t reacted to his probing. Ben hoped that meant his son had no internal injuries but he couldn’t be sure.  Ben uncorked the canteen and gently lifted Joe’s head from the ground. He pour a small trickle of water into Joe’s mouth. At first, the water simply ran out of the side of Joe’s mouth, but then Joe’s throat began to work, and Ben could see Joe swallowing the water. Ben waited a moment then trickled some more water into his son’s mouth.  

Joe felt the cool liquid sliding down his throat and he swallowed it greedily. He didn’t care where it was coming from. It tasted too good to worry about.  The small tickle increased a bit and Joe swallowed again. He opened his mouth wider, hoping to gather more of the water. Joe coughed as a bit more water trickled in, and the water abruptly stopped. Joe didn’t realize the water had stopped, because he was groaning and wincing at the pain his cough had caused. A sharp pain came from his ribs, and the rest of his body seemed to ache.  Joe felt his head being gentle laid back on the ground. He heard a voice saying his name. Joe forced his eyes open. He looked at the slightly blurred face above him in confusion. Joe thought he was dreaming. The face looked like his father’s. 

“Easy, Joe,” said the face. “Lie still. Everything is going to be all right.” 

Joe stared at the image that appeared to be his father. He still couldn’t believe his eyes. Joe lifted his right hand, fully expecting to feel nothing but air. Joe’s body sagged with relief and his eyes welled with tears as he felt solid flesh and bone. 

“Pa,” croaked Joe in a voice that was barely a whisper. “Pa.” 

“Easy, son,” repeated Ben in a soothing voice. He slowly stroked Joe’s head. “You’re going to be all right now. Just lie still.” 

Joe grabbed at Ben’s shirt. “Dave,” he said in an urgent voice. “You’ve got to help Dave. He’s hurt bad.” 

Ben looked over his shoulder. He could see Grant Marshall cradling his son in his arms. Ben turned back to Joe. “Don’t worry about Dave,” said Ben softly. He glanced upward to the sky. “Dave’s with his Father now.” 

Joe nodded, not understanding but finding comfort in Ben’s words. Joe closed his eyes and shuddered as the familiar wave of pain seemed to cascade through him again. 

Ben turned toward the top of the ravine. He could see Hoss still peering anxiously over the edge. “Hoss, he’s alive, but he’s hurt bad,” yelled Ben.

“Go get some men, some ropes and a wagon. We’re going to need some help getting him out of here.” Ben saw Hoss hesitate, and then saw a quick nod of his middle son’s head. Hoss disappeared from the top of the ravine.  Ben turned back to Joe. He stroked his son’s head again. Then he untied the bandanna from his neck and wet the cloth. He began gently to clean the scrape on Joe’s face. 

Joe felt the wet cloth, and winced at burning pain the cloth cause as it traced the side of his face.  

“I’m sorry, Joe,” said Ben softly. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’ve got to clean out those wounds.” Ben could see the flush of fever on Joe’s face and feel the heat. He knew the fever was caused by more than those scrapes on Joe’s face and chest, but for now, this was about the only thing he could do to help his son.  

“Joe, what happened?” asked Ben as he worked. He wanted to know but he also thought talking might distract Joe from the pain. 

Joe looked up at Ben. “We found the rustlers,” he said slowly. “We thought..”

Joe stopped and winced in pain again. He took a breath and grunted at the pain in his ribs. “We thought we had the drop on them,” finished Joe. 

Ben heard some movement behind him and he glanced over his shoulder. Grant Marshall had worked his way over to the Cartwrights and was standing behind Ben, listening. 

“We thought….we had them,” continued Joe in a weak voice. “They jumped us. Beat us up.”  Joe closed his eyes, trying to remember exactly what happened. His thoughts seemed jumbled for a minute. Then the picture of what happened came back to him in sharp focus. 

“They pushed us into the ravine,” said Joe in a bitter voice. “And they left us here.” 

Ben glanced over his shoulder to Marshall. Both men’s faces were clouded with anger. 

“I tried…I tried to get out,” said Joe. “I tried to get help.” Joe’s eyes began to fill with tears again. “I couldn’t do it,” said Joe in a choked voice. “It hurt too much…too much to move.” 

“Sssh, it’s all right, son, it’s all right,” said Ben quickly. He stroked Joe’s head once more. 

“Joe, who did this?” asked Marshall in a tight voice. “Who did this to you and Dave?” 

Joe closed his eyes and thought about the face he had burned into his memory. He could feel the hate for the men inside him. He hated them for what they did to him and Dave, and he hated them for making him feel so helpless. 

“Joe, do you know who it was?” asked Marshall. His voice grew urgent. “Tell me who did this?” 

Joe opened his eyes and looked past Ben to Grant Marshall. “There were four of them,” Joe said slowly. “Pete Bishop. Carl Sand. I’m…I’m not sure about the other two.” 

Joe winced as the pain seemed to be growing again. He could feel the fog once again descending around him. 

“Got to catch them,” mumbled Joe as he drifted off. “I promised Dave. I promised I’d get them for him.” 

Ben looked down at his son. “Don’t worry, Joe,” said Ben grimly. “I’ll make sure they pay for what they’ve done.” 

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

Ben stood staring at the fireplace, not seeing the flames dancing in front of him. His thoughts were upstairs, in a bedroom, where the doctor was working to put his son back together again.  Ben had wanted to stay with Joe, to hold him and comfort him while the doctor worked on him. But Doctor Martin had chased him from the bedroom. The doctor insisted that Ben was more a hindrance than a help as he set bones and cleaned cuts. Ben didn’t realize the anguish that showed on his face as Doctor Martin worked on Joe’s bruised and battered body. The doctor decided it would be a kindness to his old friend if Ben didn’t have to see Joe’s many injuries so closely.  Ben’s thoughts turned to the ravine as he stared into the fire. It had taken Hoss over two hours to get back with help. Those were two of the longest hours of Ben’s life. Two hours of Joe drifting in and out of consciousness. Two hours of Ben feeling a choking fear when Joe laid still and unmoving, and feeling a helpless rage when Joe was awake and moaning in pain. Two hours of being able to do virtually nothing to help his son.  Ben tried not to think about the tortuous task of getting Joe out of the ravine.  He tried to block his mind from the moans and grunts of pain from Joe as Hoss and the six hands he had rounded up lifted Joe gently on to the old wooden door Hoss had brought as a stretcher. The journey up the ravine had been slow and difficult, punctuated by soft groans from Joe. The make-shift stretcher jolted him as it traveled over the rough ground. Even the journey back to the Ponderosa in the wagon was painful for Joe. Despite the thick mattresses in the wagon bed, the ride was hard on Joe. It seemed even the littlest movement had caused a wave of agonizing pain though Ben’s youngest son.  

“Pa,” said a voice from behind Ben. Ben turned to see Hoss standing a few feet away. Ben hadn’t heard his son come in. 

“Pa,” repeated Hoss, his voice tinged with concern. “Is the doc still working on Joe?” 

Ben nodded and turned back to the fire, his thoughts straying to the upstairs bedroom again. 

Hoss studied his father for a moment. He knew the worry Ben was feeling. He felt it himself. He had heard those terrible moans of pain from his little brother, just as Ben had. 

“Joe’s going to be all right, Pa,” said Hoss, trying to comfort himself as much as his father. “You heard the doc. He’s going to make it.” 

Ben nodded mutely, not turning to look at Hoss. 

Hoss pursed his lips, wishing there was something he could do to help. He silently cursed those rustlers who had caused his family so much pain. 

“Pa, Roy Coffee has a posse out after those rustlers,” said Hoss. “Charlie Andrews came by while I was outside. He said Roy sent him to tell us they had followed the tracks into the mountains.” 

Ben didn’t answer. Hoss wondered if he had heard him. He was about to repeat what Charlie had told him when Ben turned around. 

“Roy won’t find much in those mountains,” said Ben in a discouraged voice. “The rock is so hard up there that nothing makes a track. Those rustlers could have led those cattle down any one of those passes.” 

“Maybe,” agreed Hoss. “But Roy won’t give up looking. And even if he don’t find anything, he’ll make sure the word gets out. Those rustlers won’t get away.” 

Ben nodded, but his face clearly showed that he didn’t believe what Hoss had said. Ben turned back to the fire. “Did the hands get back yet?” he asked in a disinterested voice. Three of the Ponderosa hands had stayed behind to help Grant Marshall retrieve his son’s body and bring it home. The other three hands had been charged with bringing in the horses Dave and Joe had left near the mouth of the canyon. 

“Yeah,” answer Hoss. “Jeb rode in awhile ago. He said Mrs. Marshall and the young’uns took the news about Dave real hard. I told him to ride over there tomorrow to see if they needed any help.” 

Ben stared into the fire. “Such a waste,” he said in a low voice. “One young man and another seriously injured. I would have given them five hundred head of cattle if they had just let those boys be.” Ben shook his head. “Such a waste.” 

“I agree,” said a voice from the stairs. 

Ben turned and quickly walked to the stairs. He looked up anxiously as Doctor Martin descended the stairs. The doctor had his coat thrown over his arm and his black bag clutched in his hand. 

“How is he?” asked Ben in a voice full of worry. 

“He’s a sleep,” replied the doctor in a soothing voice. “I pumped him full of as much pain killer as I could. I doubt if he’ll even stir until tomorrow sometime.” 

“But he’s going to be all right?” insisted Ben. 

The doctor nodded. “It’s going to take quite awhile,” said Doctor Martin. “But, eventually, he’ll heal.” 

“What about his fever?” persisted Ben. “Joe was really hot when we carried him in.” 

“It’ll will disappear in a few days,” the doctor assured Ben. “There’s some infection, but mostly, the fever is from the pain and exposure. Keep him warm and make sure he gets plenty of liquids. The fever should break tomorrow and be gone in a day or two after that.” 

“Doc, what about the pain?” asked Hoss. “Joe was hurting bad, real bad.” 

The doctor didn’t answer for a minute. He set his bag on the table and slipped on his coat. The he turned to Hoss. “I can’t remember the last time a body that battered,” said Doctor Martin slowly. “Five broken ribs, a broken wrist, sprained knee, bruised ligaments in the leg, and more cuts and bruises than I can count. He must have been in a lot of pain. Setting the bones will help, and so will the medicine. But it will be a long time before he can move without pain.” 

Hoss looked down at the floor. His stomach had tied itself into knots as the doctor catalogued Joe’s injuries. 

The doctor saw the anguish on Hoss’ face. He walked over and put his arm on the big man’s shoulder. “He’ll get better, Hoss,” Doctor Martin assured him. “That’s what we have to focus on. Helping Joe get better.” Hoss nodded mutely but didn’t look at the doctor. 

Doctor Martin turned to Ben. “Has Roy Coffee caught the rustlers?” he asked. 

“He’s after them,” said Ben. shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t think he’ll have much luck, though. Looks like they headed up into the mountains.  The doctor nodded. He looked at the two men in the room. Ben was staring at the top of the stairs, and Hoss’ gaze was fixed on the floor. The doctor shook his head. “I’ll be back in the morning,” said Doctor Martin. He turned and walked to the front door. He hesitated, and looked back into the room.  Neither man seemed to be aware that he had left them. The doctor shook his head again, pulled open the door, and walked out. 

“I’m going to sit with Joe,” said Ben, heading toward the stairs. 

Hoss looked up. “Pa,” he said in a voice filled with anger and determination. “I’m going to see if I can find that posse.” 

Ben stopped and turned to his son. “Hoss…” he started. 

Hoss held up his hand. “I know what you’re going to say,” interrupted Hoss. “Let the law handle this. And I aim to. But I got to help somehow. And catching those rustlers is the best thing I can do right now.” 

Ben pursed his lips and nodded. Hoss turned and walked to the door, grabbing his gunbelt off the bureau, and snatching his hat from the peg by the door. Ben watched as Hoss settled his tall white hat on his head and buckled the gunbelt around his massive girth. “Be careful,” said Ben.  Hoss looked at Ben and nodded. Then he turned and went out the door.   

Ben looked to the top of the stairs. He took a deep breath and slowly climbed the stairs. 

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

Joe felt as if he were drifting out of a fog once again. But this was a different fog. Joe felt a pleasant lassitude as he slowly tried to clear his fuzzy head. He felt some dull aches, but the sharp, agonizing pain he had experienced earlier was no longer creeping through him. Joe could feel the soft pillows under his head, and the comfortable mattress under his body. Joe wasn’t sure where he was, but he felt safe and warm. For now, that was good enough.  Joe shifted slightly on the bed. His body felt restricted. He could feel his left elbow resting on a pillow, and something hard around his lower arm. He felt the tight bandages around his chest and ribs. His right leg was propped up on a pillow under the blankets, and Joe felt something tightly wrapped around his knee.  Joe turned his head so the sore side of his face was away from the pillow. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus. A slight smile played on his lips as he saw the figure sleeping in the chair by his bed. 

“Pa?” asked Joe in a quiet voice. 

Ben sat upright and quickly shook his head. He looked down to the bed and smiled at his son. “Good morning,” he said, trying to sound normal. In truth, every time Ben looked at his bruised and bandaged son, he felt something other than normal. He felt angry. 

“Resting your eyes?” said Joe with a smile. 

Ben grinned. “Yes, I guess I was,” he admitted. Ben looked around the room. Bright sunlight was pouring through the windows. Ben figured the day was well started. He turned back to the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently. 

Joe shifted his weight and winced. “Thirsty,” he answered, doing his best to ignore the pain. “And hungry.” 

Ben smiled and turned toward a table by the bed. “Well, we can fix the thirsty part,” said Ben pour some water from a bottle into a glass. “And I’ll get Hop Sing working on fixing the hungry part.” 

Ben lifted Joe’s head from the pillows and held the glass to his son’s lips. Joe drank deeply from the glass, swallowing most of the water offered to him. When he pulled his head back, indicating he had had enough, Ben eased his head back to the pillow. Ben put his hand on Joe’s forehead. He nodded to himself as he decided Joe’s fever was down. 

“Pa, Dave Marshall is dead, isn’t he?” said Joe in a quiet voice. 

Ben turned to put the glass back on the table before answering. He took a deep breath and turned back to the bed. Joe was staring up at his father. Ben had a hard time not wincing as he looked at his son’s bruised and battered face. 

“Yes, he’s dead,” said Ben, his voice as quiet as his son’s. “We think he broke his neck in the fall.” 

Joe looked away. “Did they catch them?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” answered Ben. “Hoss went out to join the posse yesterday. He hasn’t been back.” 

“Pa, I want them to pay for what they did to Dave,” said Joe in a bitter voice. “I promised Dave they would.” 

“I know, son,” said Ben in a soothing voice. “I want them to pay, too. But the important thing now is for you to get well.” 

“When do you think Hoss will be back?” asked Joe. 

“Did I hear my name?” said a voice from the door. 

Joe and Ben both turned to the voice. Hoss stood in the doorway to Joe’s room. His clothes were covered with dust, and his face showed the lines of fatigue. Hoss had a big grin on his face, but both Joe and Ben could tell it was forced. 

“Did you get them?” asked Joe in an anxious voice. 

Hoss looked at Ben, then turned back to Joe. “No, we didn’t,” admitted Hoss, looking down. “We searched those passes through the mountains but there wasn’t a sign of them.” 

“They’re going to get away with this,” said Joe in an angry voice. “They killed Dave and they’re going to get away.” 

“No, they ain’t, little brother,” said Hoss in a grim voice. “They may have gotten away for now, but we’ll catch them. Roy Coffee is wiring every sheriff for a hundred miles around. He’s also printing up wanted posters. He’s listing those rustlers as wanted dead or alive.” Hoss turned to Ben. “I told Roy to put a reward on those posters. I told him we would pay it.” Ben nodded. 

Joe didn’t seem to hear his brother. “They got away,” he said again, looking at the ceiling. 

“No they didn’t,” insisted Hoss. “I promise you, Joe. We’re going to catch them. They won’t get away. I promise I’ll get them for you.” 

Joe looked at his brother. “Yeah, sure,” he said in lifeless voice. 

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

Ben stood in the corral, brushing a horse tied to the fence. His hands moved quickly and expertly as he curried the horse but they moved almost without direction. Ben’s thoughts were elsewhere.  It had been three weeks since Joe had been rescued from the ravine. To Ben, it had seemed much longer. In fact, it seemed to Ben like he could barely remember a time when he didn’t spend the entire day worrying about Joe’s agonizing recovery.  The first week, Joe had barely moved. He had been too weak and too sore from his injuries to do more than lift his head. As worrisome as that week had been, the last two had been worse….for both Ben and his son. Doctor Martin had insisted Joe get out of bed and both begin walking as well as doing a series of painful exercises. Ben knew the Doctor was doing only what was necessary to insure his son’s full recovery, but he hated hearing the grunts of pain as Joe tried to make his stiff and sore muscles work. He hated seeing the beads of sweat and the exhaustion on Joe’s face as he finished the exercises. Ben admired his son’s determination but he worried about Joe all the same. 

It wasn’t only the physical pain which his son was experiencing that caused Ben worry. Everyday for the past three weeks, Joe had asked for news of the efforts to catch the rustlers. And everyday, Joe’s face took on a strange, hard look when he was told no progress had been made.  Three weeks, thought Ben as he continued to brush the horse. What a strange time it had been. He and Hoss had gone to Dave Marshall’s funeral, offering words of condolence to a mother who couldn’t seemed to be consoled and a father who seemed unaware of the people around him. Ben had exchanged a ser