For the Love of Little Joe

By Christy

 Much Thanks to Rona for getting me started in writing Bonanza Fan Fiction and for her infinite patience in helping me write this story.

 PROLOGUE

Ben Cartwright was deep in thought while he walked from a meeting at the International House in Virginia City.  His mind was methodically measuring the amount of trees that would need to be taken down to fill a new logging contract.  They would need to order new saplings to plant to replenish the ones thinned.  Long ago, Ben had made that practice a rule. For every tree felled on the Ponderosa a new one was planted.  His mind preoccupied, Ben suddenly collided with a young man coming out of a new General Store that had been opened recently.  Both men stumbled backwards a bit.  Ben was about to apologize when his chocolate colored eyes focused on the hot-headed curly haired man who turned on him with blazing green eyes and temper let loose.

“What the hell is the matter with you, Mister?” the boy demanded.  Ben shook his head in confusion, his heart starting to hammer in wild hope as he recognized the young man in front of him. 

“Wait!” the older silver haired man exclaimed.  Ben didn’t see the gun fire but he felt his chest explode in a fire of agony.  Crumbling to his knees, Ben Cartwright witnessed the young man collapse to the ground unconscious. From far away he heard footsteps. 

“No!” he gurgled. “No, Joe!” Ben’s hand went out to the boy, and then hit the ground with the rest of his body.  Still clinging to reality, the terribly wounded Cartwright tried to crawl towards the son he believed had died…three years ago.  Only able to move a few inches, Ben’s hand was outstretched, touching the brown curls until he lost consciousness, fighting for a life that might have been taken by his own son.

**********

Adam and Hoss Cartwright burst through the doors to Dr. Paul Martin’s office.  One of the sheriff’s deputies had ridden out to the ranch to get the two men but both had been out working, Hoss rounding up cattle and Adam mending fences.  It had taken a while to find each of them.  Now, it was early evening, several hours since Ben had been shot.  The brothers met each other on the road, riding in silent anguish into town as fast as their mounts would carry them.  Paul came out of his surgery at the sound of the doors slamming.

“Adam, Hoss. I’m glad you’re here,” the doctor greeted.

“Where’s our Pa, Doc?” Hoss demanded, his blue eyes showing his anguish.  Brother Adam’s mouth was set in a hard line. The young man was wound tighter than a coiled rope ready to snap. 

Dr. Martin’s voice was grim as he spoke. “Your Pa is sleeping, Hoss.  I’m sorry to say he was gravely injured.  Right now it’s touch and go.”

“No!” Hoss cried.  “What the hell happened?”

“Apparently he was shot outside the General Store.  The shooter is in jail.  A witness says he drew on Ben for no reason and just shot him. Ben never had a chance.”

“I’ll kill em,” Hoss hissed. “Ain’t Pa been through enough?” Tears stood in the big man’s eyes.

Dr. Martin put his hand on Hoss’ shoulder. “Hoss, talk like that will not help your father.  Knowing Ben, the best medicine for him is to have you boys by his side. Normally my wife and I would do the nursing, but I know you boys too well.  Ben may be asleep, but he’ll know you’re here, so I’ll fix up a bedroom and you can take turns sleeping while one of you sits with him. How’s that sound?”

“Fine.  Let us see him, Paul,” Adam ordered.  Paul ignored the cold tone. Adam Cartwright always kept his feelings under wraps, but since Joe’s death, Ben’s eldest son was darker than ever as if protecting his own was the only thing that mattered. Dr. Martin led the two men into the surgery where Ben lay sleeping.  His shirt had been taken off leaving him covered with a large white dressing over his right chest.  Ben’s face was pale, his lips almost white.  Hoss grabbed the end of the bed while Adam sat beside his father on the bed. Paul’s heart bled for the two remaining Cartwright sons.  When one of the Cartwright men was hurt, they all were in pain.  Unable to witness the family’s distress, Paul left the room. 

“Pa?” Adam’s voice lingered in the air, the soft vulnerability tugging at Hoss’ heart. Ben laid so still, his chest drawing in slow breaths, as if each might be his last.  Taking the work worn hand in his own, Adam squeezed it, swallowing his disappointment when Ben didn’t respond.  “Pa, its Hoss and me.  We’re here.”  Adam had seldom seen his father so terribly injured.  Hoss leaned over the bed, needing to let his pa know he was near.

“We’re gonna stay right here with ya, Pa.  You gotta fight.  Please, Pa.  Ya caint leave us,” Hoss added.

Adam’s eyes rested on his brother for a minute.  Hoss was so readable, his grief for his father written all over his face.  Standing up, the older brother went to the younger placing an arm around the broad shoulders.  “You stay with Pa, Hoss. I’m going over to the jail.”

“Adam, if yer aiming to git information outta that low down, no good lowlife, I’d like ta help ya,” Hoss offered. 

Adam knew what kind of help Hoss was offering.  It wasn’t in questioning the man.  He shook his head. “You don’t mean that, Hoss.  You put your life on the line and Pa will have my head.” 

Hoss had to chuckle at that. “Reckon he would at that.  I’ll stay with Pa.” 

“Thought you would, Little Brother. I’ll be back.” Adam walked back to his father’s side.  He squeezed Ben’s hand again. “Promise I’ll be back, Pa.” Leaving the doctor’s house was hard for the black-clothed man.  He wanted nothing more than to stay with his father, with the man he respected more than any other. Thoughts of his brother followed him down the street to the Virginia City jail.  If Joe were here, would that make a difference to his father in fighting for his life? Adam scuffed to himself.  Of course it would. Little Joe could convince Pa to do anything.  He’d keep at Pa till Ben did whatever he wanted him to.  That was Joe.  His baby brother had the same effect on all of them. 

“Joe, why?” Adam asked himself.  “Why?”  He’d never figure how Joe could have got himself killed the way he did.  Joe’s loss was a living nightmare to his father and brothers.  The fifteen-year old had been on his way to school when he disappeared.  Weeks later, while Ben, Adam and Hoss still searched frantically for the boy, soldiers had wiped out a Bannock camp. Two captives, women, told how Joe was killed, his body thrown over a waterfall, only a few days before the raid. Joe had literally been tortured to death.  Adam couldn’t forget, no matter how he tried. He loved Joe so much…he always would he figured. Shaking himself, the oldest Cartwright son left his thoughts behind and entered the Virginia City jail where Sheriff Roy Coffee was sitting at his desk. Roy stood to greet him. 

“Adam? Figured one of you boys would be over. How’s your father?”  Adam’s dark face was the sheriff’s answer. Roy sighed. Ben was a good friend of his. Known the man more years than he could count and Ben’s boys too. 

“Where is he, Roy?” Each word was all Adam, stoic and hard. 

Roy nodded to the cell. “Got him back there. There’s something you should know though before you see him.”

“How’s that?”

Roy looked uncomfortable, but somehow pleased at the same time.  Adam barely noticed.  Roy was middle aged with a receding brown hair line and a muscular build.  He was as familiar to Adam as his own father was.

“Well. Don’t reckon there’s an easy way ta say this, but…the man in the cell ain’t much more n a boy and his name is Joe.”

“So?”

“Adam…it’s Little Joe.”

Adam clenched his fists as he quenched a show of emotion. Confusion, anger, hurt…hope and disbelief all surged within while he fought to maintain his distance.  His voice gave him away instantly as he hoarsely cried out. “No! It can’t be. Joe’s dead.”

“As God is my witness, Adam. Either its Little Joe or his twin brother. Look for yourself.” Roy opened the door to the back of the building where the jail cells were. 

Walking after him, Adam’s mental argument against the possibilities went on as he approached the cell. The prisoner laid on a thin mattress and cot with his face to the wall.  He didn’t turn even when the men’s footsteps sounded on the floorboard. Adam figured the boy had to have heard them. He saw the brown curls, even the form of the boy’s body. Still he fought against believing…or hoping. Roy spoke up.

“Joe? Turn around Joe.  There’s someone here to see you.”

“Who?” the boy mumbled, still not moving.

“Adam Cartwright. It was his father you shot.”

Adam’s furrowed eyebrows told Roy of his confusion at that comment. Roy bent over and whispered the rest of the story to him. “He says his name is Joe Black.  He told me he don’t have a family.”

“Dear God,” Adam breathed out loud. With those words he figured he must have caught Little Joe’s attention for the boy turned over in bed and sat up. Adam took a few steps back in his shock at taking in Little Joe’s features.  Joe! Joe! Joe! For a second Adam wondered if he could actually keep himself from running to Joe and hugging him.  He had to stay in control. Of all times, he had to stay in control!

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Roy said.

“Let me into the cell, Roy.”

“Adam, that’s not procedure,” Roy deferred, his eyes narrowing with evident concern.

“He’s my brother, Roy,” Adam hissed his voice soft enough that Joe couldn’t hear.  “For God’s sake, I won’t hurt him.”

“Give me your gun,” Roy ordered after hesitating for several seconds, looking back and forth between the two men.

Adam gave the sheriff an exasperated look. “Roy! Do you think I would use it on him?”

“No, but he could use it on you.” Roy replied. Adam rolled his eyes, but realized the truth of the sheriff’s words.  If Joe would shoot his own father, he might shoot him. Adam handed over his gun and belt.  Roy put the weapon and belt back in the office and then opened the door to the cell. Little Joe didn’t move.  Adam stood in the cell as Roy locked the cell door behind him. 

Shamefaced, Little Joe hung his head. “I’m sorry,” he stammered.

Adam steeled himself.  How many times in his life had he heard Joe apologize and in just the same manner, with his head down and his voice contrite. Again it took everything he had not to take Joe in his arms and hug him, not just to comfort him but to know he was real.  He took a deep breath before speaking. “So…you’re admitting you shot our…my father?” Joe’s head shot up.  Adam steeled himself against the green eyes that stared into his own brown ones.  Joe! Joe, how can you not know me, Adam screamed to himself.  Little Buddy, it’s me, Adam!

“I didn’t!” Joe denied hotly with his usual impetuous temper.  “I didn’t shoot him. I admit I drew my gun on him, but I didn’t shoot him.  I was just in a bad mood.  Ya gotta believe me.”

“A man saw you,” Adam reminded him.

“I don’t care who saw me,” Joe retorted.  “I didn’t shoot him.  The gun the sheriff took off me aint even mine.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Mine was given to me by the man I worked for on a ranch over in California.  He had my initials inscribed on it, JB.  This one is a little fancier than mine even.  It ain’t mine.”

“Did you tell the sheriff about the guns?” Joe’s skepticism at the question was written all over him.  Adam sighed.  His little brother wore his feelings like his clothes.  Clearly he felt trapped.

“Sure, I told him. He don’t believe me. Why should he?”  Joe’s skepticism about his own self hurt Adam.  What happened to his little brother? Where was that funny kid who got into trouble at every turn with his schemes and impulsive nature? This boy was a shadow of the Joe Adam had known.  He leaned against the wall, posing a less threatening stance, offering his support as he spoke.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, and that way I might be able to help you.”

“Why would you want to help me?” Joe asked with more skepticism. “You think I shot your father.”

“Let’s just say I believe a man is innocent until proven guilty.” 

“Well then you’re sure different.”

“Listen, I have to get back to the doctor’s office to see Pa. Tell me what happened, please.”  Adam couldn’t keep his desperation out of his voice.  If Joe picked up on it, he didn’t know, but in any case, Adam was relieved when Little Joe told his story.  The kid looked scared as he confessed what he believed happened.

“I was coming out of the store when I bumped into this white haired old man.” Adam hid a smile, knowing how his father would be insulted being called old.  Joe went on. “I got mad cause I figured he wasn’t watching where he was going. I know I got a temper.  It gets me in trouble all the time.  So I drew my gun and told the old man to watch it.  He got a funny look on his face and was staring at me.  Then I heard a shot and the old man fell down.  Next thing I know someone’s hit me over the head and I was out.  When I woke up I was here in this cell and the sheriff said I was under arrest for attempted murder.  I swear I didn’t shoot the old man.  I’m not a cold blooded killer.”  Joe spoke with passion, with determination and Adam knew truth.  Inside, he breathed a sigh of relief.  Joe hadn’t shot Pa.  Hoss would be glad to know that.  Of course what if Ben told a different story when he woke up? 

“Mister, do you believe me?”

“What?” Adam asked his mind questioning himself and Little Joe.

“I asked didja believe me?”

“Any reason I shouldn’t?”

“No! It’s the honest truth.  I’m sorry your pa was hurt, and I really hope he gets better.” 

Adam stood up.  He patted Little Joe’s shoulder, resisting the urge to tell him who he really was.  He’d have to talk to Dr. Martin about that.  “I believe you, Joe.  Don’t you worry. I’ll talk to the sheriff.  For now you’re going to have to stay here.”

“I don’t care so much about being in jail. I just don’t want to go to prison for something I didn’t do,” Little Joe said.  “I don’t like real small spaces though either.” 

“No, neither do I,” Adam concurred. “Listen, Joe, I have to go back and see how Pa is. We’ll get this mess straightened out. I want to find out who did shoot Pa, so one way or another if you’re telling the truth, we’ll get you out of here.  How do you feel?” Joe had leaned forward putting his head between his hands.  Adam could see the bump on his head. About being hit, the kid definitely wasn’t lying, but Adam had an idea on how that would be explained by the so called witness.

“My head feels like I’ve got the hangover of the century.  Otherwise I’m okay.”

“I’ll have the doctor come over and see you.”

“Aint got much money.  Don’t need a doctor. I need to prove I’m innocent.” Adam felt pride in Little Joe’s words. Joe could care less about seeing a doc, but when it came to his reputation, well, all the Cartwright men felt that their name should stand for something.  It was ingrained in them by their father’s pride almost from birth. If Adam wasn’t convinced of his brother’s innocence before, he was now.  He patted the boy’s shoulder so he looked up.

“Listen,” Adam almost said Little Buddy, his pet nickname for Little Joe.  He stopped, taking a deep breath before he continued.  “Listen, Joe.  There’s more going on here than either one of us understands.  I want to be your friend and I want to help you.  Are you with me?”  With his green eyes assessing Adam’s face, Joe finally nodded much to the older man’s relief. 

“Good decision,” Adam told him. “I’ll be back.” 

“Promise?”

“I promise, Joe.”  Adam fled from the jail to the outer office before he gave away his worry and anxiety.  With the outer door shut, Little Joe couldn’t hear him talking to Roy. 

“Roy, I want him released,” Adam insisted. “He needs a doctor.”

“I can’t do that, Adam,” Roy drawled.  “He was seen shooting Ben.”

“He didn’t do it!”

“Now, Adam are ya saying that cause he’s yer brother or cause ya believe him.”

“I think you know the answer to that, Roy.  He’s innocent.”

“Well, there’s been a lot a talk in town. Some people aren’t as sure as you are. I think Joe is safer here than out there.  Why don’t I do some investigating? In the meantime Doc can look at him here.” 

Adam closed his eyes just for second gathering his patience.  Pa was still out the last he heard, but Adam knew, he knew that if he heard Joe’s voice, he’d fight harder.  “Fine,” he conceded against his own wishes.  “I’ll check back with the doc and my pa and Hoss.  But I won’t stand by to watch Joe go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Damn it, Roy, we just found him.” 

“I understand, Adam.” 

“Do you, Roy? I don’t think so.”

“Now just a dang minute. I’ve known you boys since you came to this country.  Known Joe since the day he was born.  Ben is one of my best friends. Don’t you think I understand how upset Ben was when that little gal told him Joe was dead? Weren’t no reason not to believe her. Ben took it hard and I know the family ain’t been the same since.”

“Then for God’s sake, Roy. Let him go. I’ll take responsibility for him!”

“I can’t.” 

Adam threw up his hands in disgust.  Stomping out of the sheriff’s office, he wondered how he was going to free Joe in time to save his pa and help Joe at the same time to find himself.

**********

Back at the doctor’s office, Hoss was sitting with Ben.  The big man sat on a chair, his large paw holding his father’s smaller hand in a firm grip.  Ben was burning with fever.  Dr. Martin’s nurse kept a porcelain basin of cool water on a nightstand next to the bed.  Hoss used clean clothes to keep Ben’s forehead cool.  Ben was restless, but did not regain consciousness. 

“Pa,” Hoss stammered. “Pa…I know yer hurtin with all this.  Wish Joe was here ta tell ya it’d be awright, but ya know it will be.  Ya just gotta fight, Pa, please.  Adam and me, we done lost Little Brother.  We caint stand ta lose ya too.  Pa? Pa kin ya hear me? If ya kin, I wouldn’t mind was ya ta yell at me or something.”  Ben’s lack of response ate at the young man.  The emptiness in Hoss’ heart threatened to consume him with a choking sensation that hurt worse than any physical pain.  Iff’n his little brother was here, he wouldn’t leave their pa’s side for nothing till Ben was well.  Joe adored his pa.  Hoss loved his father too and his brothers.  He missed Little Joe every day.  Sometimes he missed him so much his heart purely hurt. 

“Hoss?” Adam’s voice brought him out of his reverie.  “Hoss, how’s he doing?” 

“Adam! Ain’t nothing different.”  Hoss stood to let his brother sit with their father.  Instead Adam drew Hoss out of the room. “Adam! Whatcha doing?  We don’t wanta leave him alone.”

“I need to talk to you, Hoss.  It’s important.” 

“What’s so dang blasted important, Big Brother?  Dadburnit, Adam, Pa needs us.”

“I know that, Hoss. Just listen.  I saw the man in jail.  He’s not just any man, Hoss.”

“Well, who is it?” Hoss asked with exasperation.

“Little Joe.” Adam was blunt, too blunt. Hoss was exhausted.  Leaning against the wall, the middle brother stared at Adam as if he had said one of their long dead mothers was sitting in the jail instead of Little Joe. 

“Caint be,” Hoss gapped.

“Trust me, Hoss.  I know our baby brother when I see him…and talk to him.”  Adam could read Hoss as easily as a book.  The same conflicts he felt were now flashing across his brother’s face.  Hoss was as stunned as he was and then some. 

Finally Hoss spoke. “I caint hardly...  Little Joe’s alive? But he shot Pa? He wouldn’t. I don’t believe it. Ya won’t convince me in a million years.”

“I don’t think he did either, Hoss. He says he didn’t.  The truth is, the only one who can tell us, is Pa.”

“What exactly did the little feller say?”

“Little Joe admits he drew on Pa, but it was in a temper; he insists he wouldn’t have shot a man in cold blood.  He’s determined to prove his innocence.” 

“Iff’n Little Joe didn’t do it, then who did?”

“A man says he witnessed the shooting. We’ll have to talk to him.”

“Adam, what did Little Joe say when he saw you? What happened to him? How’d he git back here?  Why didn’t he come to the ranch?”

“Whoa, Little Brother,” Adam answered.  “I have all the questions you do.  He gave me some answers, but he can’t give me all.  Hoss, he has amnesia.” Adam swallowed hating what he had to say.  Hoss was stunned yet again. Adam’s voice was filled with a vulnerable loss as he went on. “Joe…Joe didn’t recognize me. He doesn’t know who Pa is either.” 

Hoss was in a state of disbelief. “No! No, Adam.  It ain’t true. I gotta go talk to him. He’ll remember. He will.”

“No, Hoss, he won’t.  I talked to Paul at the jail. He’s over there now examining Joe.  Joe got hit on the head so that’s a good excuse to check him out. Paul will know what to do, and whatever he says, we’ll have to do it for Joe’s sake.” 

Hoss was about to answer when a terrific crash came from the surgery where Ben had been sleeping.  Ben’s voice cried out with a particular paternal sound that ripped at his sons.  They raced into the room as he cried out again. “Joe! Joe!”

The brothers found their father lying on the floor, writhing in pain, rolling back and forth. He had pulled down a tray that contained the bowl of water and a pitcher of cold water on it.  Ben was soaked to the skin. 

“Pa!” the men cried simultaneously.  Hoss was quick to move despite his size.  With exceedingly gentle care, he lifted Ben back on to the bed.  Ben kept muttering for Joe. 

“He’s delirious, Hoss,” Adam murmured when Ben was lying down.  Ben’s forehead was hot to the touch, his face flushed.  

“I kin see that. We gotta get him cleaned up.”

“He wants Joe.”

“He must have seen him before he was…” Hoss couldn’t bring himself to say the word, shot.  “How are we gonna tell him?”

“We’re not just yet. Come on, let’s get him warm and dry.”  Hoss simply nodded. 

“Pa?” Adam called to his father. “Pa, we’re going to get you more comfortable. Can you hear me, Pa?”  Ben was weak.  His chocolate colored eyes which often spoke of his thoughts and emotions were glazed, unfocused.  Adam sighed as Ben just continued to mumble Joe’s name.  The older man allowed his sons to help him without fuss. Hoss found a nightshirt in the bedroom he and Adam were to use while staying with the doctor.  They put it on over Ben after washing and drying him.  Fortunately he didn’t seem to have bothered the chest wound with his fall.

“Pa, I swear,” Adam sighed after Ben was settled and had fallen asleep.  “And you think your sons are bad patients.”

“He can’t hear ya, Big Brother.”

“I know, Hoss.”  A knock on the door announced Dr. Paul Martin’s arrival home.  Hoss was cleaning up the shattered porcelain on the floor as Adam moved out of the doctor’s way. 

”What happened?” Dr. Martin asked moving towards his patient.  Without waiting for a reply, he went on, “Let me check Ben over.” 

“He tried to git outta bed, Doc. He’s been calling for Little Joe,” explained Hoss.

“Joe? Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Natural he’d call for Joe.” Adam and Hoss exchanged glances but remained silent.  Finally Dr. Martin finished his exam. “Well, he’s all right, no thanks to him. The fever is pretty high.  His pulse is fast too.”

“Doc, if he could see, Little Joe, would that help?” Adam asked.  Dr. Martin looked from his patient to Ben’s sons.  He shook his head.

“What’s that mean?” Hoss demanded. “Is that a no?”

“That means it doesn’t matter how much good seeing Little Joe would do Ben.  It means that Joe doesn’t know who he is much less his family.  He wouldn’t be able to help Ben even if he wanted to.”

“Can’t we tell him who he is?”

“Joe suffered a concussion when he was hit over the head.  I’m not sure if telling him right now is the best thing for him.”

“He has to know,” Adam ground out.  “Doctor, I’m not going to sit around and let that kid suffer anymore.” 

“What makes you think he’s suffering?”

“He thinks he’s alone against an attempted murder charge.  I don’t believe he did it in the first place, but in the second I can’t let him think he’s alone any longer. He’s been alone long enough.”  Hoss nodded his agreement. 

Dr. Martin was long used to the Cartwright boys’ loyalty and love for the family.  They were unique and very close despite the fact that in truth they were only half brothers.  “All right, but you have to remember it is going to be a shock for him.  You cannot fill in his memories, Adam. He has to remember for himself.”

“Fine. When can we tell him?”

“Let him rest for awhile.  We can tell him tomorrow. One more day won’t kill him.” 

“It might kill Pa,” Hoss muttered. 

“If his fever gets worse or he reaches a critical point, I’ll tell Joe myself,” Dr. Martin acquiesced. 

“I’ll tell Joe,” Adam insisted.  “Or Hoss. Better it comes from family.” 

Hoss had finished cleaning up the broken porcelain.  He asked Dr. Martin where he could get another bowl of cool water.  While the doctor showed him, Adam sat down with his father. Gazing into the fevered face, he wished Ben was well, that he wasn’t hurt, anything but this.  “Pa,” he said in a quiet tone.  “Pa, it’s me, Adam.  Joe is here, Pa.  He’s alive.  He can’t come right now, but we’ll get him here.  You hear me, Pa?  Joe is alive.  Please, Pa, hold on to that.  Hold on for Joe’s sake and for Hoss and me.  We need you, Pa.  We need you.”  Ben remained asleep.  Adam bowed his head in sorrow and fear.  He bowed his head in prayer. 

**********

Early the next morning, Joe woke to find himself still living a nightmare, as if his life wasn’t messed up enough.  Sitting up on the edge of the bed, his head screamed at him, causing him to moan and remember his concussion.  The moan was embarrassing, and the young man was glad no one had heard him. 

“Some mess ya got yer self into this time, Joe.  What’s wrong with you? How come ya can’t get a handle on your temper? Now look how much trouble you’re in.”  His words tumbled out despite himself.  For one thing it felt good to hear something, even his own voice in the hollow part of his heart. 

“Why?” Joe asked. “Why is this happening to me? I didn’t shoot him. I didn’t!” Falling back on the bed, the young man allowed himself a few tears.  He didn’t hear the door open, nor did he initially see the big man who came in with a breakfast tray.  As the double doors slammed shut behind the man, Joe turned on his side, his eyes widening at the sight of the very large man in front of him.  Only the breakfast tray he held told the boy that the man probably wasn’t dangerous. “What do ya want?” he asked with a little more sullenness than he intended. “I don’t need nuthin.”

For a second the big man stared at Joe.  His mouth was open in a small oh.  Clamping his mouth shut, he put the tray down on a table by the door.  He held the keys to the cell in his hand. “Iff’n I open this door, ya won’t try to escape will ya?” 

Joe was offended by the question and showed it. “Heck no! I’m no coward.  I ain’t going nowhere till everyone knows I didn’t shoot anybody.  Ain’t fool enough ta tussle with a big galoot like you no how.” To Joe’s surprise a big smile came over the stranger’s face.  For a brief second Joe felt a tug at his heart, as if he should cherish that silly smile. 

The man opened the cell door then stepped back to get the tray.  He put it down on the bed, then sat on the other side of the tray, looking at Joe with a sudden offended stance. “Big galoot, huh?” he goaded.

 Joe gulped. Had he offended the stranger?  “Er, um, didn’t mean anything by it.  Just kind of came to me.” 

Hoss laughed, his body laughing with him as he spoke. “Aw, ya don’t need ta worry.  I brought ya some vittles from the International House. Didn’t figure ya would like the sheriff’s cooking. He ain’t that great a cook.”

“How do you know?”

“Been here a time or two.  Pa usually comes and bails me or my brothers out, but we gotta pay the bail out of our wages. Pa don’t hanker much with barroom brawls.  Problem is, I got me a temper and sometimes I git right ornery.”

“Your Pa?  He…he wouldn’t be that Mr. Cartwright, would he?” 

Hoss almost grinned at Joe’s uneasiness. Joe was looking at him, but the green eyes were definitely uncomfortable.  “How’d ya know?”

“I dunno.  Just the way you said, Pa.  Sounded like that fella, Adam was here yesterday,” Joe answered. 

“Well, when yer right, yer right.  Names Hoss Cartwright, and Adam is one of my brothers.” 

“Horse?” Joe asked. “What kinda name is that?” Even as he asked the big man the question, Joe could feel the name wasn’t horse. It was Hoss, and it fit the big friendly man.  There was no anger in him, nothing but a sense of warmth and care.  Why wasn’t he mad at him? Had Adam convinced him that Joe was innocent?  He was still thinking when Hoss informed him he’d gotten the name wrong.

“Not Horse, Little…Joe.  It’s Hoss. Means a big friendly man.”

“Hoss? Sounds right.”

“It does? Ya mean ya know the name?”

 Joe picked up on Hoss’ excitement.  He felt more at ease than ever with the man.  Why was that? “S'pose I’ve heard it somewhere before.  Why ain’t ya mad at me iff’n ya think I shot yer pa?”

“Adam done tole me what ya tole him.  Reckon I believe him. Adam’s not the easiest feller to convince.” 

Joe breathed a sigh of relief.  He took the cover off the plate on the tray.  He was surprised to see eggs, bacon, and biscuits. There was coffee on the tray too. Surprisingly, he was hungry. Hoss watched him eat, waiting patiently.  In fact, if Joe didn’t know better, he’d think that Hoss enjoyed watching him eat. When he had eaten all he wanted, he put the plate done.  Half of the meal was still there. 

“Ain’t ya gonna finish?” Hoss asked.

“Nah. I don’t need much. Thanks though. That was a better breakfast than I’ve had in a long time. What’d ya go to the trouble for?”

“Had me a reason.  Wanted ta let ya know there were no hard feelings.  We, Brother Adam and me, well, we’ll do our best ta find out what’s going on and who really shot Pa.”

“How is he?” Joe asked with genuine concern.  The boy didn’t miss the mixture of fear and worry that lined Hoss’ face for a moment until he replaced the appearance with some optimism.  Again the change in expressions tugged at Joe’s heart.  What was it about the big galoot?

“Pa’s holding his own.  He ain’t woke much yet. Sometimes he calls for my other brother, but that’s all.” 

“Your brother, Adam? Does he call for you?”

“Nah. He’s not calling fer Adam or me. He knows we’re there.  Joe, when ya saw my pa yesterday, did ya know him?”

 Joe gave Hoss a look of confusion. “Never met him before,” Joe replied. “Funny thing though.  He looked like he knew me.  I had my gun drawn on him and he said, wait.  I did wait, Hoss, I did. Honest.”

“Joe, I tole ya, I believed ya,” Hoss assured the anxious young man.  Joe was getting agitated.  The way he spoke, the way he moved, the way he defended himself was all Joe.  Hoss knew Adam was right and this was his little brother. Did Adam feel the urge to hug Joe, to take him right to Pa and show Pa that Joe was real, that he was alive?  He’d lied a bit to Joe.  Ben was running a high fever this morning.  The doc didn’t think he’d last another day.  It was killing Hoss.  He needed to get Joe to his Pa.

“Glad for that,” Joe breathed.  “Spose ya have ta git back to yer Pa. I appreciate ya bringing breakfast. It was real good.”

“Ya haven’t had a lot ta eat lately have ya?” Hoss asked. 

Joe looked down at his hands, avoiding Hoss’ blue eyes. “What’s it to ya?”

“Just wondered.  Ya look plume puny.” Joe’s green eyes blazed as he fought for his pride.

“I ain’t puny! Just cause I ain’t as big as you, ya big lummox.”

“Hey, Hey, it’s okay, Lil Joe.  I was just…well just worried about ya.”

“Why?” Joe demanded, still angry.

“Cause I care about ya, cause…Aw shucks, Lil Joe.  Doc said ya ain’t got no memory, but dadburnit, I caint believe ya don’t remember me or Adam or Pa.  We’re yer family.”  Hoss had tears in his eyes, his stomach churning, his heart breaking.  His little brother was sitting in front of him and Joe didn’t even know them. 

Joe’s face registered shock along with confusion.  For several seconds, time ticked. Hoss waited for Joe to collect him self and answer him.   

“Family?” Joe whispered. “I got family?” 

“Ya sure do, Shortshanks!” 

To Hoss’ horror, Joe grabbed his head with both hands.  His unearthly cry of agony echoed through the cell until he collapsed unconscious onto the bed.  Hoss choked on his own distress.

“Joe! Joe!” Hoss screamed. Without hesitation, the big brother who loved his baby brother with all his heart scooped the boy up in his arms and rushed out of the jail.  Hoss had one thought only, to get Joe to Dr. Martin.  His thoughts weren’t on anything else.  He was only a short distance from the doctor’s office when his own head exploded with an agonal grip on him, pulling him down to the ground.  Joe fell with him.  Hoss tried to crawl to his brother. A shadow over him raised his arm.  Hoss started to move but wasn’t fast enough.  The arm came down sending Hoss into a sea of darkness. 

***********

“All right, break it up!” Sheriff Roy Coffee hollered busting through the crowd that had gathered in a circle around Hoss and Joe’s prone bodies.  Neither man was moving. Roy bent down over Joe. There was no injury on the boy, and he couldn’t figure out why he was unconscious. The sheriff, a man in his late forties or early fifties with a balding head and a medium build, couldn’t help hearing the grumbling that was emitted by the people surrounding him. He shuddered, his hand briefly touching his holster.  Somehow the feel of the gun was comforting. 

“No good kid. He tried to kill Ben Cartwright.”

“Murder. He deserves to hang for what he done.”

“Now he’s trying to escape from jail. Got Ben Cartwright’s own boy to break him out of jail.”

The voices kept on.  Roy tried to ignore them.  Bending over Hoss, he saw the man was out flat on his stomach, his head bleeding profusely from an open wound.  “Who did this? What’s going on here?” Roy demanded, standing up. “We’re gonna need a wagon to get these men to Dr. Martin’s.”

“The kid don’t need a wagon, Sheriff. What he needs is a noose.  I saw him. He tried to kill Ben Cartwright.”

“Warton, just because you think you saw something doesn’t make it so.  And no one is going to lynch anyone.  This is my town.  If something happens to the boy, you’ll all find yourselves in jail.”

“Ya ain’t got the room, sheriff.  My wife talked to the doc last night.  Had to get some medicine.  Doc said Cartwright’s real bad.  I took that to mean he probably won’t make it. That’s murder.”

“Burke, shut up,” Roy ordered yet another excited citizen. 

“He’s gonna hang, Sheriff,” one of the men yelled out.

“Not on my watch. Now one of you men get me a wagon!”  Roy bent down over Joe who was waking up.  Roy’s mistake was in turning his back to the crowd who had been spoiling to hang Joe ever since his friend, Ben was shot.  Unlike Hoss, the sheriff never knew what hit him, but in an irrevocable second he hit the ground in a blanket of fog that rapidly pulled him down into dark nothingness.  Joe groaned, opening his green eyes to find himself surrounded by a mob of angry people.  Scrambling away from the crowd, the boy found himself dragged to his feet.  Still a little dazed, Joe’s mind was quickly coming back to him. He knew danger when he saw it. Two men were holding him.  He struggled to free himself in vain. In the next second, Joe found himself facing his accuser.

“Kid yer a murderer and yer going to pay.”

“Ben Cartwright ain’t dead yet. What if we string up the kid and Cartwright doesn’t die?” someone yelled out.

“He shot Cartwright. The man didn’t have a chance to defend himself. How long do ya think afore he does the same thing ta someone else?  He’s a murderer. I say he deserves what he gets.”

If there were any dissenters in the crowd, no one else came forward.  Joe had only a chance to look down at the big man still out cold on the ground. Hoss, he thought. Hoss and Adam had offered to help him.  Hoss said he was family.  What did that mean? Again he struggled.  Again he was held firmly, this time dragged down the street and put on a horse.  He tried to jump off the other side, but was caught before he hit the ground by Warton himself.  Warton, a big man, almost as big as Hoss’ 6’4 inches hit Joe in the stomach twice, doubling the boy over.  He lifted him back onto the horse.  Another man climbed up behind Joe who was still bent over gasping for air. Someone handed the man some rope and he tied Joe’s hands behind him, then held the boy about the waist so he couldn’t move.  The men started the walk out of town, bent on doing one thing by the end of the day, hanging an innocent man…or boy depending on how you looked at it.

**********

“Joe!” Adam cried witnessing in amazement the mob taking his brother away.  No one heard him because he was in Dr. Martin’s waiting room, looking out the window.  Joe was sitting on a horse with another man holding him. Around him at least twenty men escorted the horse and riders.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. Dear God, Adam thought, they’re going to hang him! They’re going to hang my baby brother. Where was Hoss?

Dr. Martin came running. “Adam, what is it?”

Adam was still wearing his gun and belt.  He started towards the front door. “It’s a lynch mob.  They’re gonna hang Joe, I’m sure of it. Damn it, where is Hoss?  He was supposed to be with Joe.”

“I don’t know, Adam, but you can’t stop them by yourself.  Ben has friends who can’t be a part of this.  Your father is sleeping.  I’ll go and find anyone I can to support us and you find Hoss and the sheriff.” 

“Great,” Adam sighed. “Hasn’t that boy suffered enough?” Adam hurried out of the house, racing towards the sheriff’s office. Paul followed him but went in a different direction to get some help.  Adam’s heart sank at the sight of two bodies lying on the ground less than a block from the sheriff’s office.  “Hoss,” the young man breathed.  He reached his brother so fast, the dust settled around him as he knelt by Hoss’ still body. 

“Hoss!” Adam yelled this time. Hoss moaned in reply.  His hand came up to touch his head.  Adam helped his brother sit up. “Hoss, are you all right?”

“Naw, I’m not awright,” Hoss groaned with evident irritability. “What hit me?”

“I don’t know, Hoss, but we have to move it. They got Little Joe. Was that crowd planning to do what I think they were?”

“Doggone it,” Hoss declared. “Aw, Joe.  No wonder they done hit me. They’re gonna lynch him up, Big Brother. I heard em. I couldn’t get up but I could hear em.”  The sheriff was still out. 

“Hoss, can you walk?”

“Course I can.”

“We haven’t got much time. They’re walking with Joe, but I’m not sure where they’re going.”

“Me either, Big Brother.”

Adam was relieved when Dr. Martin came hurrying towards them while Harry from the livery came down the street, riding one horse and leading a few more. Dr. Martin bent over the sheriff, rousing him.  Hoss stood, getting his bearings. 

“Harry!” Adam cried. “Those for us?”

“You betcha, Adam.  I saw that band of no-goods.  Most of em don’t even know your pa. You take these horses Adam and bring them back when you’re done.”

“Thanks, Harry. Roy?”

“I’m fine. Stupid of me to get hit. Let’s go, boys.”  Roy stumbled a bit as Dr. Martin helped him up. Hoss mounted, but it took him twice to get his foot in the stirrup.

Dr. Martin whispered to Adam. “They both might be concussed, Adam. Watch them. I’ve got some men coming. They’ll follow you. I need to get back to Ben.”

“Hope it’s not too late,” Adam answered with a grim feeling sucking him down. They had to get to Joe.  Hoss and Roy might have been concussed, but they gave Adam a good race as they galloped their horses out of town following the tracks of the men who had taken Joe.  It only took about ten minutes before they realized where the men were going. 

“Hoss, Adam, hold up.  They’re going to Four Roads Crossing,” declared the sheriff.

“They’re gonna use that great big old tree there at the crossroad,” Hoss cried.

“Let’s circle around them,” Roy ordered.  Hoss and Adam nodded.  Adam went straight in while Roy and Hoss circled around.  Adam tried to concentrate on getting to the mob.  He tried not to worry about Hoss.  As Adam rode over the hill at the edge of town, his heart pounded hard.  He could see Joe sitting on the horse, the noose already around his neck.  Adam couldn’t see his little brother’s face, but he could almost feel the fear that Joe must be experiencing.  Joe! Joe! Hold on, Little Buddy.  He rode. He rode as fast as he could.  But before he could reach him, before Hoss and Roy or the other men could reach Joe, a man hit the rump of the horse Joe was on.  Frightened, the horse gave flight allowing Joe’s body to fall, the noose catching him. Through blurred eyes, Adam saw his brother grab the rope, attempting to save himself even as he choked. Adam pushed his horse through the crowd his eyes only on the boy, grabbling to survive, but he was too late for Joe’s hands finally gave up the struggle letting the rope take his life away while his legs kicked convulsively.  Adam’s screams filled the air as the crowd went silent, their objective completed.

“No! No! Stop it. Stop! Joe!” Hoss came from behind Joe ready to release the deadly rope. Throwing himself off the horse, Adam wanted to shut out the sight of Joe’s body swinging in the wind.  A minute? Two minutes? How long was it he wondered before Hoss cut him down and Adam caught the boy in his arms.  Ripping the rope off of Joe’s neck, he prayed his neck hadn’t been broken.  A gun being fired sounded far away. 

It was actually only feet away from where Adam gently laid the unconscious boy while Roy yelled at the mob. “That’s all of it,” his voice rang out.

Hoss knelt next to Joe. Around them, Roy was asking questions of the men who had so grievously injured Little Joe. Adam and Hoss didn’t hear him now.  Hoss took off the ropes that held Joe’s hands behind him as Adam examined the boy.  

“Adam? Is he…” Hoss’ question was thick was unshed tears.

 Joe’s head rested in Adam’s lap, the ugly rope burns leaving nasty marks about the boy’s thin neck.  Joe’s eyes were squeezed shut, his body limp, too limp, Adam thought.  Joe! Joe! Don’t do this. Don’t die now! You just got here. You just got home.

“Adam!” Hoss finally reached the oldest brother.

With shaking hands, hands that were usually so sure and sturdy, Adam Cartwright put his finger to the battered neck.  Two fingers were better than one he had been taught by someone.  Pressing deep, he felt nothing, nothing at all.  Joe was gone!

“Adam! Dagnabit, Adam. Tell me.”

“I don’t know, Hoss. I can’t…I can’t…” Adam sobbed finally giving way to the tremendous loss he was feeling for Joe for the second time in his life.  His fingers came away, then pressed again not as hard this time. This time…

“He’s alive! There’s a pulse. Oh Joe! You’re a good little buddy. Let’s get him back to Dr. Martin, Hoss.”

“He’s alive,” Hoss mumbled with relief and shock.  Without further words, Hoss scooped his little brother up in his arms, watching the curly hair blow in the wind, aching with rage at the harsh marks on the throat, kicking aside the rope on the ground that almost took Joe away from him again.  The crowd was walking back to town, the men noticed. Other men on horseback dallied close by. Neither man thought of who they were. Adam mounted his horse.  Hoss lifted Joe up to Adam who took Joe in his loving arms facing him forward so his head was resting on his shoulder. 

“Go, Adam. Don’t wait for me,” Hoss ordered. “Just go.”  Adam nodded.  Unspoken words flashed from Adam’s brown eyes to Hoss’ blue for a brief instant till Hoss turned back to his horse, and Adam trotted off towards town.  Hoss leaned against the animal’s back, relief making him weak.  A hand on his back didn’t even get his attention.

“Hoss? How was Joe?” Roy Coffee’s voice asked.

 For a minute Hoss was too overwhelmed to respond.  Wisely, Roy waited.   After a minute, Hoss was able to mount his horse.  He let his gaze rest on the sheriff, a fury of anger replacing the tears.  “He’s alive, sheriff, but that’s about all.  He coulda been killed by that low down no-good mob. They as good as hung my little brother. Ain’t nothing too bad could happen to em.”

“Now, Hoss, ya don’t mean that.  Warton’s the one hit the horse.  I had two of the men that came with us take him to the jail.”

“Two a them?” Hoss’ sarcasm, rare for him to even show, was evident. “Well, sheriff, I reckon ya got the situation unda control. I’m going to my brother. And he ain’t going back ta yer jail. He’s innocent, and Pa’ll tell ya so.”  Hoss didn’t wait for a reply.  He left Sheriff Roy Coffee in the dust and the wind, racing back to town to see if Little Joe would live or die.  Only this time, if Little Joe died, it would be permanent.  There would be no hope, no second chances, and no amount of love would bring the boy back to them.

**********

Adam clung to his brother on the ride back to Dr. Martin’s.  The ride seemed to take forever when in reality it only took ten minutes.  Ten long arduous minutes where Adam held Joe’s back with one hand, and kept his hands on his horse’s reins with the other.  Feeling Joe’s head on his shoulder reminded the young man of the many times his baby brother had fallen asleep in bed with him, most especially after the boy’s mother died in a tragic riding accident.  Little Joe had only been five years old.  Adam always smiled when he thought of Marie, Joe’s mother.  Her beauty, compassion and maternal love had been received reluctantly at first, then with gratitude from when he was a boy of twelve until he was almost nineteen.  Then in an irrevocable instant Marie had broken her neck, dying immediately after her fall leaving Adam to help quell Joe’s nightmares when he called for the mama who could not come.  Now Joe had been hung by the neck from a tree in another irrevocable second.  Would he die? Was he suffering? Was he aware of anything that was happening or was he mercifully unconscious. Adam prayed he was for his brother’s raspy gasps for air frightened him.  Dr. Martin’s house came into view.  The oldest son breathed a sigh of relief when the doctor came out of the house to meet him.

“Adam! Joe! Dear God, they didn’t?”  Dr. Martin’s reaction was no less horrified than Adam’s had been.  The quiet Cartwright had no words to express his anger, nor the grief that threatened to drown him if Joe died.  Dr. Martin held Little Joe in the saddle while Adam got down.  Together the men took him into the house.

Adam stopped in front of the doctor’s surgery assuming they would take Joe to lie next to his father. “No, Adam. Your father is still very ill. We can’t upset him like this.”

“Has he been awake? Has he asked for Joe?”

“He’s not lucid much. When he asked for Joe, I told him Joe was in jail and you and Hoss were with him.  Let’s take him into the bedroom. I can care for him there.” 

In no time that was exactly what the men did. Joe’s breathing was getting worse, terrifying Adam further. When Joe was in bed, Dr. Martin raced from the room.  He came back in a few minutes with several pillows. “Help me position these so his head is elevated. Keep his neck as straight as possible.  He has some swelling, which is contributing to his breathing difficulty.  How could they do this to a boy?” Dr. Martin’s indignation did nothing to help Adam.

“Is there anything else we can do to help him?” Adam hazarded while helping get Joe comfortable.

“No, Adam.  If that doesn’t work, well, there isn’t anything else to do! Now go.” Sitting near his brother, Adam placed his head in his hands.  Hoss arrived demanding to know how Joe was. Dr. Martin informed the middle Cartwright what he had told Adam. 

Hoss clenched his fists his anxiety written all over him as he pleaded for help. “Doggone it, Doc. Ya caint let Little Brother die.  Ya cain’t.”

“Hoss, it’s up to Joe. Now one of you needs to go and sit with your father. I gave him some sleeping powders before. If he finds out what happened to Joe, well, I can’t imagine how he’ll react, even in his current condition.” The three men were sick themselves observing the boy in bed.  Like a bird gasping for air, Joe’s breaths were sickeningly audible, a wheeze that resounded in the room while the men talked. 

“I can,” Adam mumbled. “I’ll go sit with Pa. Do you mind if I tell him what’s happening?”

“Yes I do, Adam. You know Ben. If he knows Little Joe is here, he won’t stay in bed. I’ll have to keep him sedated forever or at least until I’m satisfied he’s on the road to recovery.”

“But maybe seeing Lil Joe…” Hoss started.

“No, Hoss. You know Ben. You know exactly what he will do.  I cannot risk it.  Will you exchange your father’s life for your brother’s?”

“Course not! That’s not what I meant.”

“Hoss, settle down,” Adam ordered. “I’ll go to Pa.  Stay with our little brother. Encourage him. Talk to him. Whatever you do, don’t let him die.” 

Hoss forced a smile on his face. “I won’t, Big Brother…if I kin help it!” 

Adam left the room.  Hoss sat down with his brother. Dr. Martin took Joe’s pulse. Hoss let his hand brush through the curly hair.  His eyes met Dr. Martin’s.  “Whaddya think, Doc?”

“I think we’ll know more by morning,” Dr. Martin answered.  “It’s going to be a long day and night.”

“I meant what I said, Doc,” Hoss declared in his determined manner. “I ain’t letting Little Joe die.” 

Dr. Martin nodded. “I’ll hold you to that, Hoss,” the doctor answered.

Hoss bent over his brother, ignoring the crowing sounds as Joe breathed in life sustaining air. “Punkin, kin ya hear me? Kin ya hear me?  I love ya Little Joe and Pa and Adam, they do too.  Don’t matter what those men done or what they believe. We know ya ain’t done nothing ta hurt Pa.  Ya wouldn’t do that.  So ya fight, Punkin and when ya wake up and Pa’s better, we’ll find out who shot Pa. Ya hear me? It’s gonna be all right, Punkin. I promise ya.” 

Dr. Martin nodded.  “Keep talking to him, Hoss.  I’m sure somewhere in there he can hear you.  Just keep talking to him.”  Hoss did as he was told, his voice softer than normal, but still enough to reach Joe, or so he hoped…hoped and prayed.

***********

Normally his screams could raise his father and brothers right out of bed.  As the boy’s dream turned to a nightmare where he was confronted with pure terror. They were hanging him! He didn’t do it! He was innocent and he was going to hang! The rope around his neck was rough, cinched tightly against him.  Suddenly the horse he’d been mounted on was gone, his body weight pulling him down and down and down.  Choking, choking. He couldn’t breathe! Joe tried to get away, tried to holler.  Only a raspy yell could be heard at an octave far lower and far softer than normal. 

Sitting up in bed, his breaths coming hard and fast, Joe’s green eyes flew wildly about the room.  “No!” he screamed. “No! I didn’t do it.” Those words were not anywhere near as loud as Joe could normally yell but he was still heard. 

Suddenly the man he knew as Adam was sitting next to him, grabbing his arms, shaking him a little to wake him up. “Joe, Joseph, it’s all right. You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you, I promise. Come on, Little Buddy, wake up.” 

Joseph stared at the man clothed in black under the dim light of the lamp on the table next to his bed. Adam…the man who had helped him in jail.  The last thing Joe remembered was the horse going out from under him, the rope around his neck. He couldn’t breathe.  “Adam?”

“Yes, Little Joe, it’s me.  I’m here. You aren’t alone any more.” 

Joe gazed into Adam’s eyes as he collected himself.  He thought of all that had happened since Ben Cartwright…since Ben…What had Hoss said? They were family? Adam, Hoss and Ben Cartwright were family.  He didn’t understand, not anything, not even how he got into this bed. His puzzled expression matched his furrowed eyes and almost hysterical stance. “I thought…the horse…” he rasped.

“Joe…don’t worry about it right now. You just have to rest.”

Joe’s hand went to his throat.  Swallowing with a little difficulty, he stared at Adam with unanswered questions.  Taking a deep breath, Adam told Joe what had happened.  Tears came to the boy’s eyes. “Not a dream,” he managed to say.  “Oh God. Hurt…so bad.” 

“I know, Joe.  I know it was awful. But you have to remember it’s over now.”  Joe laid back on the bed.  Adam pulled the covers over the boy. “Do you think you can sleep now?”  Joe nodded. 

Adam smiled.  He started to get up off the bed.  In a flash, the younger man’s hand grabbed his, a strong grasp from Little Joe. 

For some reason, Joe saw an emotional expression cross Adam’s face. He felt it. He felt something, something connecting him to this man who was so much older than him, not old enough to be his father, but still… “Who…are…you?” he gasped out again, his voice hoarse and his throat sore.

“Joe, not now. You need rest,” Adam demurred.

Joe wasn’t having it.  He had to know.  What was this man to him?  He’d been alone all his life or so he thought.  Did this man know about the scars on his body. Did he know about the years he couldn’t remember no matter how he tried?  What did he know?

“Please!” Joe begged.  “Hoss said…family.” Joe felt as though he were on the edge of something, something important. Adam’s other hand brushed through his hair, a gesture Joe recognized, a gesture Adam did when he was frustrated.

“Joe, the doctor wants you to get your strength back.”

“TELL ME!”  Leaning forward, Joe screamed with all the vocal intensity he had left. Adam pushed the smaller man back on the bed, holding him down gently. 

“Joe, calm down. I’m not going to say anything unless you calm down.” 

Something about Adam’s tone told Joe the man was telling him the truth.  He took some deep breaths which wasn’t easy.  Slowly, slowly he relaxed, lying down on the bed, his heart not beating quite so hard, his anxiety buried for a few minutes.

“That’s better. Now stay there!”

Orders. Something told Joe Adam was good at giving orders. He felt a bit of rebellion.  He was about to sit forward again when Adam finally confessed the truth.

“Joe, you’re my brother.  You, me and Hoss, we’re all brothers.  Our father is Ben Cartwright.  We live on a ranch called the Ponderosa. Do you remember anything?” 

Joe thought. He thought hard.  He didn’t know Adam was watching him to see if he would faint the way he had before as Hoss told him.  Finally he shook his head. Adam’s hand crossed his mouth for a second until he could speak again.

“I’m not sure how to say this, Joe, but we need your help.”

“Why?”

“Pa is still very sick.  He could die.” 

“Pa…” The word felt…funny to Joe…funny but good.  The green eyes settled on Adam.

“Joe, can you tell me what the first thing is you remember about your life, about who you are?”

 Joe tried to talk, but the words wouldn’t come.  Suddenly there was no way to talk.  He couldn’t talk! The thought terrified him. Grabbing his throat, the boy felt a terrifying jolt. What if he never talked again?

Before he could give into his fears Adam grabbed the boy’s hand again and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Little Buddy.  It’s okay. Dr. Martin said your throat was swollen and you might have difficulty talking. It’s my fault for pushing you. I’m sorry.” 

Joe closed his eyes. He was so tired and yet something nagged at him. Adam had said his pa… their pa could die.  That wasn’t right. He had an idea. He tugged on Adam’s shirt as Adam started to get up.

“What? What is it, Little Buddy?” 

Joe looked around the room.  There was no paper.  He held out his hand and then made a motion of writing.  To his relief Adam caught his suggestion immediately.  A broad smile came over Adam’s face.

“Joe, you still have great ideas, but don’t quote me on that. I’ll get a pencil and paper. You wait right there and I’ll be back.  Okay?”

Joe nodded.  Lying back down on the bed, he couldn’t help himself.  In a few minutes he had fallen asleep again. 

When Adam came back he found Joe totally out.  Adam sighed not wanting to wake his little brother.  He pulled the covers over Joe again, making sure he was safe and sound. “Sleep well, Little Buddy.  I’ll be back after I check on Pa.  I love you.” He bent down to kiss the boy’s forehead.  His brother, his little brother…Dear God, what was going to happen to him now?

***********

Ben woke to feel as though his chest were burning.  Moving his head, he wasn’t surprised to see Hoss sitting in a chair by his bed, holding his hand, and dozing.  His son, Hoss.  Hoss was so much like his mother, but more often just himself, a big bear of a man with the heart of a child and the strength of a giant. 

“Hoss,” Ben whispered, testing his strength.  “Hoss.”  But Hoss didn’t hear him.  Ben found he couldn’t make Hoss hear him. Moving took more out of him than he wanted to admit.  In his soul, he felt himself slipping, felt Hoss and the room around him becoming more distant as if he wasn’t really a part of life anymore.  How had he gotten here? Could he leave his two remaining sons alone?  They had lost so much with Joe’s death.  Joseph, Joseph, Joseph.  How many nights had he cried himself to sleep mourning for his youngest son, for Marie’s son. 

“Marie,” Ben whispered.  Would Marie come for him or Inger or Elizabeth?  He had loved and mourned each of his wives.  Elizabeth, Adam’s mother, his first true love who shared his dreams.  She died in childbirth, but made him promise to seek his future with their baby son.  Inger…her common sense and love for Adam as well as himself had given Ben new life until an Indian’s arrow took her from them, leaving behind his second son, Hoss.  And Marie who gave him Joe and left them as suddenly as Joe had. Joe had been so like her until he too was taken.  Ben remembered that last evening with all three of his sons at home, now three years past.  Now, he wondered if Joe was with his mother and they would take him to heaven’s gates. “Joe,” he called out. “Joseph.” 

Hoss’ voice reached him.  “Pa, we’re here. Joe’s here.  He’ll come as soon as he can.” 

Ben’s eyes met his son’s briefly until he couldn’t keep them open any more.  What had Hoss said? Had he been talking about Joseph?  Ben wanted to find his son. He rested…letting nature take its course.  

“Pa? Pa! Doc, come quick.” Hoss yelled, his voice panicked. Ben was feeling peaceful until someone slapped his face.

“Oh no you don’t, Ben. You aren’t giving up on these boys,” Paul Martin’s voice said.  “Hoss, get Adam. Get him now.” 

“Right away, Doc.” 

Ben could hear Hoss’ footsteps. The sounds were becoming more distant. Ben felt almost as though he were completely happy, completely without grief or sorrow or pain for the first time since Joe died, but wait. What was Paul saying? What was his old friend telling him? The words sank in slowly.

“Ben, the boys are here, all of them, including Joe.  Joe’s been hurt.  He’s in the bedroom down the hall. Do you understand me. Ben!” 

Again Ben felt Paul slapping him. Why wouldn’t he leave him alone.  Ben just wanted to feel that blessed release. He wanted to…what did Paul say about his boys?  Joe? Joe was alive? It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be true.  Joe was gone.  But then if Joe was gone…Ben fought to remember.  The world didn’t seem quite so far away as he thought as his mind conjured up the picture of the boy who drew a gun on him.  He could see the dark curly hair, the boyish handsome face contorted in anger, so like Joseph’s impulsive nature.  Joe? He felt again the agonizing burning in his chest. Had Joseph shot him? Joe!

“Pa!” That was Adam. Why was his voice so low?  “Pa, you have to open your eyes.  I’ve got Little Joe.  You have to see him. He’s sleeping, and I don’t want to wake him. He needs you, Pa. Hoss and I need you.” Ben felt a rustling on the bed, movement.  Added pressure next to him brought him further back to life though he wasn’t sure what was happening.  Adam couldn’t be telling the truth could he? Was he grasping at straws to give Ben hope?  He felt pressure next to his heart, the pressure of someone lying with him.  His chest hurt.  Why were they doing this?

“Doc, will it be okay if I leave Joe like this. It won’t hurt Pa will it?” Adam queried, his voice filled with the concern Ben associated with his oldest boy whenever he was worried about his younger brothers. 

“Joe?” Ben whispered, his heart finally beating with purpose.  He had to see, had to know, had to believe. 

Joe’s voice didn’t answer him.  Ignoring the pain in his chest, Ben somehow managed to move his hand to touch the soft curly hair he knew without seeing. 

“He’s lost, Pa. He doesn’t remember who he is,” Hoss offered. “Ya caint leave him now. Ya know ya caint.”

“Hoss!” Dr. Martin hissed.

“I don’t care,” Hoss snapped back. “Pa has ta know the truth.  Dagnabit, Adam and me need Pa ta help Joe.” 

“Hoss is right, Paul,” Adam concurred.

Ben couldn’t see his old friend shake his head in obvious disapproval.  Ben’s hand stayed on Joe’s head.  He couldn’t move any more. He was so tired. 

“Pa? Joe was accused of shooting you,” Adam told him. “He says he’s innocent.  Pa, you’re the only one who can exonerate him. You have to get well. If you don’t, we may not ever be able to save Joe.” 

Adam knew how to reach his father. Ben heard the words.  Adam’s hand squeezed his.  He felt his son lying next to him, Joe’s head on his heart. 

“Please, Pa,” Hoss begged.

His sons were begging him to live.  He wanted to answer.  He wanted to tell them he would try.  He would try.  Ben felt his body releasing itself. He had no more control.  The darkness came and he was lost…to the well deserved sleep he needed. His head rolled to the right, away from Joe.

“Doc!” Hoss cried in alarm. 

Paul Martin rushed to Ben’s side.  For several seconds the doctor examined his patient. Finally he turned to Adam and Hoss. “He’s only sleeping.  His pulse is stronger, and regular.  His respirations are good. I think…there’s hope now he’ll be all right.” 

“Hot diggity,” Hoss yelled.

 Joe groaned, opening his green eyes to find himself lying next to a man he didn’t know.  In the flash of a second, he mumbled words that caused his brothers to rejoice even further. Joe’s voice was still hoarse but it was clearly understandable. “Hoss! Cantcha let me sleep for once?”

***********

The next few days were a blur for Little Joe. For some reason he developed a fever, perhaps from the shock of the hanging or perhaps because it appeared he hadn’t eaten much in the last days before he came to Virginia City. Those were the theories that Dr. Martin gave Adam and Hoss. The two brothers made sure Joe wasn’t left alone for a moment, not only because of his fever, but because of the ongoing grumbling going on around town.

On the bright side, they were thrilled to see their father improving.  Ben slept a great deal the first day after he passed the crisis. When he finally woke the next night, he found himself in a bed that was softer than the one in Dr. Martin’s surgery.  Opening his chocolate-colored eyes, Ben found his second son sitting in a chair, between his bed and another.  When Hoss sat back in the chair, Ben’s heart leaped at the sight of his lost child.

“Joseph,” he breathed. “Hoss!” 

Hoss’ large frame moved quickly to Ben. “Pa! Bout time you woke up. Thought ya was gonna sleep forever.  Don’t worry about Little Joe none. He’s just got a fever. Doc says he’ll be fine when the fever breaks.”

“Little Joe?” Ben moved the name around in his head, feeling his soul rejoice in a fact and not a dream.  “Hoss, how did he get here? Where did he come from? Where has he been?” 

Hoss scratched his head a little before he answered, smiling a little sheepishly. “Ain’t got any answers, Pa. Joe, well, he’s got amne