To Hell and Back
Location: Carson and Humbolt River Basins, Churchill County, Nevada
The 40- mile desert, beginning here, is a barren stretch of waterless alkali wasteland. It is the most dreaded section of the California Emigrant Trail; it is traveled by night because of the great heat.
The route was first traveled by the Walker-Chiles in 1843 with the first wagon trail. Regardless of its horrors, it became the accepted route, as it split five miles southwest of here into the two main trails into California-the Carson River and the Truckee River Routes.
Starvation for men and animals stalked every mile. A survey made in 1850 showed these appalling statistics: 1,061 dead mules, almost 5,000 horses, 3,750 cattle, and 953 graves. The then-value of personal property lost was set at $1,000,000.
The heaviest traffic came from 1849 to 1869. It was still used after completion of the Central Pacific Railroad in 1869…several years after Joseph Francis Cartwright nearly met his fate, attempting to cross this arid, desolate land…a land that he later described to his father, as having been ‘to hell and back’.
Adam summed it all up in a matter of just a few words.
“He’s stubborn and bull-headed. He’s determined to make this trip, Pa; you might as well accept it.”
Ben shook his head, his disgust showing on his weathered face. The shine of his eyes reflected the fire that burned brightly in the massive fireplace where Ben stood, warming his hands. The red glare enhanced the hardened features of the senior Cartwright’s expression. “I don’t understand him at times, Adam. He’s so…so…”
“Impulsive, self-willed, incorrigible, insufferable…”
Ben’s brow wrinkled in a deep scowl and he turned, shaking his index finger under Adam’s nose. “That’s about enough young man. You make it sound as if Joe’s…OH, I don’t know. You sound as if you don’t even like your own brother!” stormed Ben, flinging his hand about in the air.
“You know that’s not true, Pa…Joe’s just…Joe…that’s all. He’s still a kid, leastwise to me he is, and he’ll always be, I suppose. But fact is, we’ve all tried to talk him out of this, but he refuses to listen to reason,” retorted Adam, as disgusted sounding as his father had been moments before.
Hoss entered through the kitchen, just in time to hear his older brother’s words. He too wore a look of doubt on his face and the expression in his eyes, showed how worried he was. “Ain’t ya got no idey why Little Joe thinks he has to make this trip, Pa?” the big man asked as he lowered his huge frame gently down onto the settee. “Seems to me, ya could refuse to let’em go,” he added, looking a bit skeptically at his father.
“Sure…I could forbid him from going. But then we’d all have to listen, for days…possibly even weeks, to his moaning and groaning about how we never let him do anything, how he’s not a boy…how unfair it is that the two of you get to do everything you want and how he’s not allowed to do anything. Then he’ll start sulking and pouting and start ignoring everything we say to him…Oh dear Lord…why couldn’t I have had daughters instead!” groaned Ben, as he dropped into his favorite chair. He rolled his eyes upward, his lips barely moving, his voice low…almost a whisper. “Why me, Lord? Why me?”
Adam grinned at Hoss, though he knew that what his youngest brother had planned was indeed a serious matter. The 40-mile desert was the most dreaded stretch of land that the pioneers had ever encountered, and to think of his kid brother retracing the steps of the men who had, or nearly had, lost their lives shook Adam to the core of his being.
He watched his father closely and saw the worry and dread etched into his face and knew that once Joe had left, there would be weeks and weeks of sleepless nights and hours of constant worry on all their parts. Adam briefly wondered if his father was up to the stress and whether or not Joe was as prepared for the long hot days and freezing nights that lay ahead of him. Without realizing what he was doing, Adam shook his head.
“What are you thinking about, son?” Adam heard his father ask.
The question broke through his ravine and brought him back to the present. Adam’s eyes were dark and his tone pressing when he responded to the question.
“That perhaps I should go with him,” Adam announced.
The thought had been floating around in his head for the last several days, but he had yet to voice the suggestion, until now.
“I really don’t think the boy should do this, but since there seems no way of stopping him, I just thought it might be a good idea if one of us goes with him, and I…I think I’m the one to go,” Adam persisted.
“Oh, you do, do you? And why is that?” Ben said, his thick brows raised slightly.
“Because…it is my idea…and because I’m the oldest. And if that isn’t reason enough then…because there will be more of a chance of the two of us making it across that wasteland than there will be if only one goes,” Adam explained.
“So…just because you think of an idea, then I’m suppose to agree to the suggestion; is that what you are really saying, Adam?” his father asked.
“No, Pa…that’s not it at all and you know it. I’m…worried about Joe making such a trip all alone. For God’s sake, anything could happen to him…”
“Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” roared Ben, his temper rising. He rose from his chair and turned toward the fireplace and began poking at the embers. The fire buzzed softly and then started glowing brighter as the fire took and began to intensify.
Adam moved to his father’s side, wanting to reach out and comfort his parent, to ease some of the anxiety he could see in the dark eyes that refused to look at him.
“Pa,” Adam said lowly, “I’d take care of him for you. I’d try…I’d die…for him, to protect him, or to save his life, you know that…”
Ben turned his head quickly, seeing the serious and sincere expression on his oldest son’s face. The mask had fallen away and Ben could see the deep abiding love that the boy had for his youngest brother, glimmering in the depths of the hazel coloring.
Ben opened his mouth to speak, surprised to find that he nearly choked on his words.
“I…know you…would, son!” Ben said, instantly proud that he had fathered such remarkable sons. “But Adam, if you went with Joseph, I’d worry twice as much because then I would live in fear of losing two sons, not just one. Son, if anything happened to you…or to Joe…I’m not sure that I could go on living.”
Ben glanced at Hoss who remained seated and who watched with troubled eyes two of the people he loved most in life, bickering about life and death. Their words sent shivers of fear coursing though his veins and without realizing he had done so, Hoss’ massive frame quivered.
“Adam, Hoss,” Ben addressed each one, “you two, and Little Joe, are my life’s blood. Without you, I am nothing…do you understand? If anything happened to all of you, I would not want to live…there would be nothing…do you understand, nothing left in this world for me. No, Adam, I want you to stay here, every bit as much as I don’t want Little Joe to make this journey, please son…” stammered Ben, practically reduced to tears, so intense was he pleading.
Adam’s lips pressed firmly together in a tight straight line; he didn’t like his father refusing him the right to go, but then he understood the words of love that Ben had spoken of in his roundabout way of expressing himself.
“Alright, Pa…I’ll stay. I’ll not be the cause of more worry for you. But understand this -- if Little Joe isn’t back in six weeks, eight at the most, I’m going after him, agreed?” Adam declared.
Hoss took this opportunity to jump to his feet. He stepped around the coffee table and stood with his brother.
“And when he goes, I’m going with him!” Hoss acclaimed to his father without faltering determination.
Ben stared deeply into the faces of each one of his two sons. He smiled at last, easing the tension somewhat.
“Well, don’t think for one minute that when you two leave, you leave without me, because I’m going too!” announced Ben.
“Going where?” Joe asked as he pushed opened the front door and entered just as his father had made his proclamation of intent.
Ben quickly looked in Adam’s direction and then Hoss’, desperately searching for something to say without confessing to the youngest member of the family what they had planned.
“To bed, it’s getting late and…I’m tired,” Ben said, pivoting on his heels and heading toward the stairs.
“What’s ailing, Pa?” Joe questioned as he plopped down on the settee and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl.
Adam and Hoss watched as Joe rubbed the bright red fruit up and down on his shirt before biting into it.
“Nothin’,” stammered Hoss. “Night,” he called as he followed in his father’s footsteps.
Joe looked surprised at Hoss’ sudden departure. He turned to Adam who stood with his back to him, poking at the fire in the fireplace.
“Alright, big brother, what’s going on?” Joe asked.
Adam stopped and glanced over his shoulder, seeing Joe from the corner of his eye. “Nothing,” he fibbed.
Joe pushed himself up from the couch and sauntered over to the fireplace. Adam heard Joe take another crunch into his apple.
“It’s this trip I’m taking, isn’t it?” Joe inquired bravely.
“Must you talk with food in your mouth?”
Joe swallowed. “Then answer my question, what’s going on?”
Adam placed the poker back in the rack and turned dark eyes on Joe. He placed his hands on his hips, looking much like his father, thought Joe.
“Alright Joe… it’s about this dang trip you have your head set on taking. Pa’s worried sick about it, not that it matters to you,” Adam said with a sneer.
“That’s where you’re wrong, big brother. It does matter to me. I don’t mean to worry Pa, but this is something that I have to do, not that you would understand,” Joe responded with a glare. His tone matched his brother’s condescending one.
“You are absolutely right on that point, little brother. I do not understand…and before you say anything else,” Adam held his hand up to silence Joe. “I think Pa is wrong in allowing you to do this…but that’s just my opinion, Joe. I don’t want to argue with you about it. It is plain to all of us that you have set your head on this and that it isn’t likely you’ll be changing your mind. So…on that note, I bid you, good night.”
Adam made a bow and before Joe could say another word, Adam was up the stairs and out of sight. For nearly an hour afterwards, Joe sat alone in the great room, pondering his decision from all perspectives.
It had all begun over six months ago when he’d first met Tate Cameron, quite by accident, one might say, though Joe would disagree. It happened on a Saturday night, as Joe recollected, in the Silver Dollar Saloon. Joe leaned his head back against the headrest of his father’s leather chair and closed his eyes, recalling the chance meeting.
**********
“Hey!” shouted the stranger as he pushed his way into the Silver Dollar Saloon.
He was tall and thick built, though not an ounce of fat could be seen on his frame. He was muscular and he carried himself with an air of assurance about him. His handgun was tied down low on his right hip, and if one were guessing, they might think him a gunfighter, but he reeked of cattle, giving a clue to his true profession as a cowboy.
All eyes turned to watch as the young man paused and scanned the curious faces in the crowd.
“Wonder what’s going on?” Joe asked his two brothers.
They sat together around the table in the back corner of the room where they had been sipping their beer.
“Which one of you fellas own that swayed back, black and white pinto tied out front?” the cowboy shouted.
Joe’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced at his brothers and then gently pushed back his chair, rising to his feet. He swallowed down the last drop of ale and then sat the mug on the table, turning to the young man. The crowd parted, giving way to the two facing each other. “I do,” he called in a cool manner as he moved forward to stand before the stranger.
“Why, what’d he do…kick ya?” Joe’s hazel eyes swept the crowd, his lips tilted up in a sly grin and then his eyes sought the other man’s face.
Joe never knew for sure what hit him until much later. He felt his body being lifted from the ground and sent cascading down across the tables and into the floor. Every muscle in his body seem to be on fire with burning pain as he tried to force himself up and turn to face the man.
He was barely on his feet before the second solid blow, to his mid-section, doubled him up in the floor, groaning with anguish. It was then that he recognized the boots that Hoss was wearing. The sharp pointed toes were barely under his nose when he felt the gentle hands pull him upright and stand him on his feet. Joe groaned softly, looked up into his brother’s clear blue eyes and then blacked out.
As his slender body crumbled, Hoss quickly caught his brother, glancing over toward Adam who now stood nose to nose with the raven-haired stranger. Hoss scooped the unconscious Joe into his ample arms and headed for the door; his brother needed the doctor and Hoss aimed on getting him there. The amiable giant glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see Adam deck Joe’s attacker and send him sprawling along on the sawdust covered floor of the saloon. The cantankerous man stayed down, rubbing his chin, but not daring to get to his feet. Something clicked inside his head and he knew that he was no match for this stranger with the ebony eyes that spoke louder than any words the man might utter.
“Whatever the problem with the boy, mister, that should settle things,” Adam said in a warning voice.
Cautiously, Adam backed his way to the front of the establishment, pausing at the bar to toss some coins down on the counter. “That should cover things, Cosmo.”
Adam nodded his head at the bar tender and pushed backwards through the double swinging doors. He spotted Hoss entering the doctor’s office across the street and hurried to join his brothers.
**********
“He’s just addled some, but he should be fine,” Paul told Adam and Hoss, who hovered over their younger sibling like worried hens with wondering chicks.
“Ya sure?” Hoss questioned the doctor.
Paul, who had his back to the pair, smiled to himself. “I’ve been a physician for more years than you’ve been alive, young man, and I can assure you, he’s going to be fine. Just let him rest here for a spell and when he’s come to his senses enough, take him home.”
Paul turned back and faced Hoss and Adam, smiling. “I gave him something to ease the pain. He’ll be sluggish for a while, but I think you can get him home in time for supper…though I doubt that he’ll want anything to eat,” Paul explained, turning to check his patient. “His jaw is going to be mighty sore for the next few days.”
“He’s waking up now.”
***********
“Honest, Adam, I have no idea who that fella was, or why he wanted to wallop me,” Joe said as he climbed slowly onto his mount’s back.
“Well, he must have had some reason.” Adam swung gracefully into the saddle.
“Ya been sneakin’ behind his back, seein’ his gal?” Hoss said with a snicker.
“NO!…Oh,” Joe moaned, leaning low over Cochise’s neck. “I ain’t even seeing a girl right now.”
Adam leaned over and took the reins from his brother’s hands, shaking his head in sympathy of Joe’s plight.
“Just try to hang on, little buddy; I’ll get you home.”
“Thanks, Adam,” muttered Joe, clinging to the pommel on the saddle and swaying gently as Cochise clomped along behind his stable mate.
**********
“And you have no idea why this man attacked you?” Ben asked for the second time.
Joe sat in his father’s leather chair, following Ben with his eyes, as his father paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. Joe shook his head slowly from side to side. “No sir.”
Ben looked in Adam’s direction and then towards Hoss. “Either of you have any knowledge of this?”
“Nosir,” Hoss replied. “I thought maybe Joe might be messin’ ‘round with this fella’s gal…”
“Well, I’m not…I’ve already told you that I wasn’t seeing anybody, Hoss. Why can’t you believe me?” Joe said irritably.
“Aw…dadburnit, Joe, I believe ya,” Hoss replied with a grin.
“Adam, what about you?” Ben turned his questioning to eldest son.
“Beats me, Pa. We were minding our own business when this fellow came into the saloon and asked who own the black and white pinto…”
“The sway back, black and white pinto,” Joe piped in to add.
“Sway back,” agreed Adam with a grin, knowing how the statement rubbed the younger man the wrong way. “Joe told the guy he did, and the next thing we knew, Joe was picking, or I should say, trying to pick himself up from the floor. That’s about it.”
**********
The stranger, Tate Cameron, appeared at the door of the Cartwright house two days after he had an encounter with Little Joe in the saloon. Ben opened the door, unaware that before him stood his son’s attacker.
“Mr. Cartwright?”
“Yes, may I help you?” Ben asked, opening the door wider.
“Well, I hope so,” the stranger grinned. “I was told in town that you were doing some hiring…I need a job, sir.”
His voice was pleasant and Ben liked the way the young man addressed himself. Opening the door further, Ben waved his hand out in a circular motion. “You heard correctly, come in, please…and meet my sons.”
Tate moved into the house and waited while Ben closed the door. Ushering Tate into his office area, Ben paused when Joe, who had been sitting at his desk, looked up with shock on his face at the stranger. Adam followed Joe’s stance and straightened to his full height. Hoss glanced from one to the other, not knowing quite what to expect. Tate froze to the spot, until Ben turned toward him.
“Is there something wrong?” Ben questioned to no one in general.
“I’d better be going, sir,” Tate said quickly.
“But I thought you said you needed a job?” Ben seemed confused.
“I do…ere…did, but…”
“But nothing. Now come over here young man, and meet my boys. Adam, Hoss, Joe…this is…I’m sorry,” Ben said, glancing at the stranger. “I didn’t get your name?”
“Tate…sir,” he said, watching Joe from the corner of his eye as he tried to look as if nothing was wrong. “Tate Cameron, sir” he stammered.
“Well, Tate…these are my sons, Adam, Hoss and…”
“We’ve met,” Joe said in a huff.
Ben looked even more surprised than ever. “Have you now?”
“In the saloon, the other night. This is the man who attacked me,” Joe explained as he rounded the desk to stand in front of Tate. “And I’d like to know why,” he said, almost demanding an explanation from the man.
“It was a mistake,” Tate said, swallowing hard.
“What?” stammered Joe.
“Yeah…you see, I got conned in a business deal,” Tate began to explain. “I was buying some property from this fella…I guess my first mistake was buying it sight unseen…well, anyway…all I got for my hard earned money was swamp. My second mistake was sending the fella money through the mail to pay for it…”
“You what?” proclaimed Ben.
“I know, Mr. Cartwright…it was a dumb thing to do,” admitted Tate.
“That still doesn’t account for why you attacked me!” Joe said, his anger dissolving somewhat.
“That was my third mistake. See, I was supposed to meet up with the seller in Placerville, but he never showed up. I found out there that he was a con, so I started out looking for him. I chased him all the way to Virginia City. I wasn’t sure what he was riding, but I stopped a fella and asked about this guy. I was told the guy I was looking for was in the saloon and that he had just ridden into town on a black and white pinto.”
Tate looked remorsefully at Joe and swallowed. “I didn’t find out until I’d already clobbered you that the man I asked, was the same man I was looking for.”
Hoss and Adam snickered, but Ben’s stern scowl wiped the smirks off their faces.
“Go on,” Ben urged.
“Well, sir, Joe…when I went inside and asked who rode the black and white pinto…”
“Sway back, black and white pinto,” Joe corrected, glancing at Adam.
“You stood up,” Tate said to Joe. “How was I to know I’d been lied to?”
All eyes turned toward Joe. Ben studied his son’s face, knowing that Joe was having a hard time staying mad at this man who seemed so remorseful.
Adam watched with interest and Hoss waited with baited breath.
“He’s not sway back, you know,” Joe said in a serious tone.
Hoss burst out laughing, joined seconds later by his father and older brother.
“Heh?”
“My pinto, Cochise, he’s not sway back,” Joe said and then grinned.
“Oh…yeah, well, I’m sorry about that…I reckon I was just so dadburn mad about losing my money and all, that I…”
“Forget it,” laughed Joe. “I mean about hitting me. I suppose if it happened to me, I’d do the same thing. It was a mistake, that’s all.”
“You mean it…you ain’t mad at me…you ain’t gonna hold it against me?” Tate said in wide-eyed wonder.
“Naw…I ain’t mad and I ain’t gonna hold it against you,” promised Joe. “Pa…didn’t you say something about needing to hire a couple of men to haul some freight for you?” Joe asked, turning to Ben with a grin on his young face.
“Yes…yes, I did.” Ben nodded his head. “Mr. Cameron, can you drive a wagon?”
“Can I? You bet I can, Mr. Cartwright, sir,” gleamed their new friend.
“Then the job’s yours.”
“Thank you…all of you.” Tate turned back to Little Joe. “And thank you,” he said. “Golly, just wait until Julie hears about this…”
“Julie?” Ben said, puzzled.
“Yes sir, my wife. See, when I came here to see about the property I had bought, and after I got settled, I was sending for my wife and daughter. They’re back in Oreana, waiting word that it’s time to come. But now, since I’ve lost all our money…and our land, I’ll have to save enough just to go home,” Tate explained with a sad expression.
***********
From that day on, Tate Cameron and Joe became fast friends. They worked side by side and come Friday and Saturday nights, the pair could be found in the Bucket of Blood together, engaged in a round of drinks, or a game of poker. The ladies flocked to the handsome young men, but Tate refused their generous offers of visiting with them in one of the upstairs rooms. He’d find himself sitting alone, or with Adam and Hoss on a few occasions when his sidekick would take one of the girls up on their invitation.
Tate would wait patiently for Joe to finish his ‘business’ and then the two friends would ride home together.
It was Saturday afternoon when the friendship came to an abrupt end. The sun was shining high in the sky, glaring down on the townsfolk and making most of them irritable because of the blistering heat.
Tate had driven the wagon into town for the Cartwrights, and Joe had ridden along to keep his friend company. Adam and Ben had arrived ahead and were waiting at the mercantile store, having already ordered their supplies. Once the wagon had been loaded, Ben had asked Tate and Joe to drive the wagon down to the freight office where he had a small load to pick up there as well.
Ben went inside while Joe and Tate waited in the shade. Adam had stopped at the post office to pick up the mail and agreed to meet the others at the Silver Dollar as soon as the business at the freight company was finished.
“You two run along and get a cold beer. Harry’s gonna help me load up and I’ll drive the wagon down and meet you there,” Ben told Joe and Tate.
Joe grinned at Tate and nodded his head toward the saloon. He needed no prompting, and neither did his friend.
“Thanks, Pa…I’ll order you a beer,” Joe called over his shoulder.
The two young men, engrossed in conversation, had only walked about halfway down to the saloon when a loud rumbling sound stopped them in their tracks. Two heads spun around, just as the freight wagon, the team of frightened horses and shouts of warning, bore down on them.
Everything and everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion and both Joe and Tate tried to scramble to safety. Joe started in one direction, Tate the opposite, when Tate turned back to look and saw Joe trip and nearly fall. His first instinct was to save his friend, and Tate made a daring dive at Joe, shoving Joe clear of the runaway wagon.
Joe went down with a thud rolling head over heals. He heard a woman scream, the sound sharp and piercing to his ears. His shoulder throbbed with pain and for several moments he lay, dazed on the dusty street.
Pinching his eyes tightly to ward off the burning sensation in his shoulder, Joe tried to get to his feet. Moments later, he felt hands gently pulling him upright. He cried out as the pain intensified and looked up into the face of his oldest brother. Adam’s eyes locked with Joe’s, but he said nothing, allowing Joe to lean heavily on to him.
“Tate saved my life, Adam,” Joe mumbled.
“I know, buddy.”
“Tate? Where is he, Adam?” Joe said, suddenly aware that everyone around him had become strangely quiet.
Joe’s eyes scanned the crowd. He saw his father and Hoss, who had just come from the saloon, and several other individuals squatting on the ground around a still form. His haunted eyes, strained to see whom the man was that his father was holding in his arms.
“TATE!” shouted Joe when he recognized his friend’s clothing.
Joe pushed himself free of Adam’s grip and staggered as quickly as he could to his friend’s side. As he bent down over the broken body, he met his father’s eyes. Ben shook his head gently from side to side. Joe had no reason to ask, he already knew, his friend was dying. Tears blinded his vision, remorse swelled his throat and he choked down the bile that had risen to his mouth.
“Joe…” Tate muttered in a broken voice.
“I’m here, buddy…don’t talk. The doc’s on his way,” Joe said, trying to assure his friend.
Tate moved his hand, gripping Joe’ arm as firmly as he could with his dwindling strength.
“Julie…promise me…you’ll go…to her…tell her, I…love…her.” Tate’s voice was getting weaker. His eyes began to roll back in his head.
Joe, fighting back his own tears, glanced at his father, who watched with regret the young life that was slipping away.
“Promise…me, Joe,” murmured Tate as his fingers lost their grip on Joe’s arm and his body arched as his head slowly rolled to the side.
“I…promise, Tate…I’ll go to her,” Joe managed to say, seconds before Tate took his last breath and passed from one world into the next.
Joe lowered his head, willing himself not to cry in front of the crowd of spectators that had gathered about them. When Ben rose slowly, he placed his hand lightly on Joe’s shoulder, glanced at Hoss and nodded toward Tate’ body.
Hoss leaned down, next to Joe who still clung to his friend’s hand. He spoke in a voice laden with emotion.
“Let me help ya, short shanks.”
“No, I can take care of him,” Joe rebuked his brother. “He died saving my life.”
Joe started to lift the limp body into his arm, but the burning sensation in his shoulder sent a fiery blast of pain shooting down his arm and he nearly dropped his friend. Hoss was quick to offer his help and this time, Joe relented, allowing Hoss to gather Tate into his arms and carry him away.
**********
Joe sighed deeply as he rose from the leather chair where he’d been sitting for over an hour. He wondered if his father might already be sleeping. His deep seeded desire to talk to Ben about his up coming trip had begun to nag his conscience. Joe knew that his father was worried, it was typical of Ben, but nonetheless, Joe felt duty bound by his promise to his dying friend to make the trip. It was not to be for pleasure; he could think of a hundred and one other places to go for fun other than the most dreaded stretch of desert know to modern man.
Joe climbed the stairs and walked softly, so as not to awaken his family. He paused at his father’s door and knocked gently. A long silence followed and Joe, taking that as a sign that his father was already sleeping, turned toward his own room, down the hall.
“Joe?” Ben called from the partially opened door. “Did you want something, son?” Ben said in a low voice.
Joe stopped and turned at the sound of his father’s voice. He smiled and returned to the room. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized.
“You didn’t, son…I was reading,” Ben explained as he led the way into his bedroom.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Joe ventured, figuring that he was the reason for Ben’s restlessness.
Ben smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sit,” he offered, pointing to a spot next to him.
“Thanks.”
“You were right, you know…I couldn’t sleep,” Ben said, watching how Joe kept his head lowered, a sure sign that the boy had something on his mind and was not sure as to how to go about getting whatever it was off his chest.
“I suppose I’m the reason you can’t sleep,” Joe said, braving a glance in his father’s direction.
There were times that Joseph could be very direct in his questions.
“Not necessarily you alone, son, but this trip, your reasons, your insistence…what could happen to you…”
“Pa…nothing’s going to happen to me…”
“Joseph, how can you be so sure it won’t?’
“How can you be so sure it will?” Joe stood and walked across the room, turning back to face his father. “Pa, I don’t mean to worry you, honest; and I don’t mean to be the reason for you losing sleep either,” Joe said, returning to the bed where he kneeled down at his father’s side.
With hands resting on Ben’s knees, Joe’s expression took on a look of intense yearning as he tried to explain to his father why he had to make this journey in to hell and back. “Do you remember back before I was born…before you met my mother; and her first husband was your friend?”
“Of course, but what does that have to do with this, Joe?”
“He was your friend, he died saving your life…well, Pa…Tate was my friend, too, and he died, saving my life as well. If he had not shoved me out of the way, that day in town, when the freight wagon was bearing down on me, I’d be dead now. He died…for me that day, Pa…and he asked me to tell his wife that he was sorry for not making their dreams come true and that he loved her. Pa…don’t you see, there’s no difference in what happened to you and what happened to me. You carried a message to the woman who would later become my mother, a dying man’s wish. I’ve been asked to do the same thing…”
Joe paused; he had heard his father sigh deeply. He leaned back, giving Ben space to rise from the bed and walk around him. Slowly Joe stood to his feet, watching his father’s back as Ben moved around the room. When Ben stopped and turned around, Joe could see the pain in his father’s dark eyes that Ben tried so hard to hide from him.
“I could forbid you to go, you know,” Ben said in a low voice filled with emotion.
Joe swallowed the knot that had risen to his throat and nodded his head in agreement. “Yessir…and I’d respect you enough not to go,” Joe took a deep breath and pushed ahead. “But I think we both know that you…won’t issue such an order…”
Ben moved to within inches of his son, and stared the boy straight in the eye. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “What makes you so sure of yourself, young man?”
Again, Joe was forced to swallow. “Because it would be between us for the rest of our lives, and we both know that,” Joe said with no anger or malice in his voice.
He lowered his head, afraid to look into the chocolate eyes that he felt scrutinizing his face. When he felt his father’s fingers tighten into the flesh of his shoulders, he raised his head and looked into the face of the man before him.
The fear was still present, but this time, Ben smiled softly. “You will promise me that you’ll take all precautions to keep out of harm’s way, won’t you?”
Joe felt the wind expel from his lungs. He’d been unaware until that moment that he’d been holding his breath. A smile spread across his face and he grabbed Ben’s arms. “I promise, Pa…I promise,” he said with a laugh that hinted of relief. “Thanks, Pa…I knew you’d understand.”
“Joe…I do understand…I always have. From the moment we watched Tate slip away, and he mumbled his request to you, I knew you’d go. Son, I fear for your
well-being…no, don’t say anything, please…let me finish. I know what you are going to be faced with, the dangers, the heat, the Indians…and it isn’t going to be easy for me to watch you ride out of here, knowing what lies ahead for you. I can only trust that God will watch over you, and that you will come back to me safe and sound. I realize that I’m acting as if I thought you’ve no sense in how to take care of yourself, but I don’t mean to imply such.”
Ben pulled Joe closer to him, holding him tightly. “It’s a father’s right to worry about his children…regardless of how old they are, indulge me that much, won’t you, son?”
Ben felt the slender body he held pressed to him, relax, and he lessened his hold.
“Alright, Pa…I agree to indulge you…but please, try not to worry too much, I’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
Ben turned to his dresser, opening a drawer and reaching inside. Joe watched, having no clue as to what his father was searching for. When Ben turned again to face Joe, he reached for his son’s hand, holding it in his own. “Give this to Tate’s widow; tell her that her husband earned it,” Ben explained.
Joe’s fingers closed around the bills. He had no need to count the money; it was more than what had really been earned, but Joe knew his father well enough to know that at a time like this, the young widow would need money to support her family. It was little to offer, compared to what Tate had given to him, Ben told his son. Joe stuffed the money into his pocket and smiled at his father.
“This is all the more reason for me to make this trip, Pa. I know you’ll worry, but try not to, I’ll make out just fine, Pa…just fine.”
What the youngest Cartwright failed to realize, until it was too late to turn back, was that in fact he did not know. He had no clue as to what really lay ahead for him. Even his father, in his own worst imaginings, could not envision the misery that would force itself upon his least expecting son.
**********
The days had been warm, but not too hot. A steady breeze had kept the heat at bay, much to Joe’s relief. The nights were cool, but not cold. Snuggling down into his bed roll, Joe had slept comfortably and had awaken each morning feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever the day was to toss at him. So far, his traveling had gone well, in spite of the fact that he could not shake from his memory, the look on his father’s face when they had said their goodbyes. Joe knew that deep down inside, his father had been dead set against him making this mission, but had relented, stating his understanding as to why Joe felt he must go. The worry that his father had tried so hard to shield had been apparent in his expression. His eyes looked dulled and when Ben hugged him, Joe had sensed his father’s apprehension along with Ben’s clinging tightly to him, longer than what was considered normal.
Joe took a long drink from his canteen and then pushed the cork back into the opening. After placing the strap around the saddle horn, Joe urged his horse onward. The pack mule was slower to respond, but eventually picked up the pace and trotted along side Joe’s mount. He would reach Silver Springs before nightfall, stable his horse and the mule and find a room at the hotel. Joe sighed; he needed a nice hot bath, some home cooking and a good night’s sleep in a real bed. Tomorrow he would make his way toward Fernley where he would stopover for a couple of days to restock his supplies, give the animals a much needed rest before venturing into the last stretch of his journey.
His father’s warning remained ever present in his thoughts. “Plenty of water, son. Cut back on the salt, go slowly, follow the ruts, travel at night if you must and be ever mindful of where you are…”
Joe took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His father was such a worrier, he decided, always treating him as if he were still a child and not the man of twenty-one that he was. Deep down, Joe didn’t really mind, his father was no man’s fool; Ben knew exactly what he was talking about. It would be a wise move on his part, to heed his father’s words and Joe had already set it in his mind to do as Ben had suggested.
**********
“Make sure they get plenty of fresh water and oats,” Joe reminded the stable boy. “And put my gear in a safe place, I hold you responsible for any missing items,” he warned as he tossed some coins to the young man.
The boy glanced down at his hand, quickly counted the coins and then grinned broadly up at Joe. “Yessir! Ya ain’t got to worry about a thing, I’ll make sure nobody bothers ya belongings, mister.”
“See that you keep your promise,” smiled Joe, turning and leaving his animals to the boy’s care.
Joe made his way down the street toward the building that had been pointed out to him as the best place in town for a home cooked meal. It was a boarding house, he’d been told, and most likely could get a room there as well as a meal.
When he reached the clapboarded dwelling and knocked, the door was quickly answered by a lovely older lady who smiled welcomingly at her guest. Joe grabbed for his hat, instantly aware of the woman’s dancing emerald eyes and auburn hair, highlighted with streaks of silver.
“How do you do, ma’am?” Joe stammered. “My name’s Joe Cartwright…and the boy down at the livery stable said you served hot meals…and might possibly have a room for the night?”
Joe felt much like a schoolboy, gawking at the woman, for she was beautiful, even for her age. Not that she was old, Joe chided himself, but lovely to look at, just the same.
“Why, yes. Are you hungry, Joe?” she smiled in a motherly fashion, opening the door wider to permit Joe to come inside. Joe felt his heart flutter. The woman placed her hand on his arm and urged him inside.
“Well, yes ma’am,” he said, dusting some of the road film from his trousers. He grinned shyly at her, “I could use a hot bath too, that is…if you have a room?”
“Of course. Come in,” she invited. “My name is Molly…Molly McClure,” Molly introduced herself. “My friends call me Molly. I expect you will too.” she smiled.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am…Molly,” Joe corrected himself. “My friends and family call me, Little Joe.”
“Little Joe?”
“Well, I’m sort of the runt of the litter,” he said with a laugh. “My family decided a long time ago that the name fit, and as I got older, my friends picked it up…guess it stuck.”
“Well, Little Joe, I like it. Now, if you will go up those stairs and turn right, third door on the left, you will find fresh water and clean towels. You can clean up enough for supper. It will be served in about half and hour. Afterwards, I’ll see that a nice hot bath is made ready for you,” Molly said.
“Great…I’ll go wash up,” Joe said, turning toward the steps. “Ma’am…ere…Molly, what’s for supper? Something sure does smell good,” Joe said with a twinkle in his eye.
He liked the woman, she was vivacious and friendly, and for a fraction of a second, he wished his father could meet her. He’d have no objections to having a stepmother, especially if Molly McClure could cook as well as she looked, Joe decided in an instance.
“Mulligan stew, with blueberry dumplings,” she laughed.
“Wow…sounds terrific, I can’t wait to try them,” laughed Joe as he hurried to clean up. His stomach was already reacting to the delicious sounding meal, and Joe was in no mood to listen to its rumbling.
*********
“More?” Molly asked, holding the pot out to Joe.
“Just a little…not much, I’m about to pop now,” Joe said, grinning as he wiped his mouth. “I’m almost ashamed of myself…”
“Land sakes, Little Joe, whatever for?” Molly answered.
She ladled more of the tasty stew into Joe’s bowl and smiled behind his back. She had never seen such a small man eat so much in her entire life, and watching how the boy enjoyed his meal, gave her pride in her cooking ability.
“For making a pig out of myself,” Joe responded. He swallowed what was in his mouth, remembering to wipe his lips. “I think I ate more than my older brother, Hoss, ever ate at one meal. It was awfully good, Molly,” smiled the young man.
Molly had set the pot down and was now standing behind Little Joe. She placed both hands on his shoulders and squeezed gently. “Well my goodness, Joe, you’re a growin’ boy; you’re expected to eat a lot,” she giggled. “And who is Horse?”
“Not Horse ma’am, Hoss, H-O-S-S. He’s my brother, but he eats like a horse,” Joe returned the laugh.
“Don’t you worry…you eat all you want. If you’re going where you said you were, then you need to fill up and stay filled up. That old desert is no place for a handsome young man like you. Why, I can’t imagine any father allowing his son to go traipsing off into no man’s land like that. I do declare!” fussed the kind old lady in a gentle manner.
She moved to the chair across from her new border and sat and watched as Joe finished his meal.
“Pa didn’t want me to go, Molly. But I have too…I made a promise to a friend and…”
“Well for heaven’s sake, why would he ask you to do such a fool hearty thing as travel across that 40 miles of pure hell? What kind a friend is he anyways?” Molly declared, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Dead,” Joe said, setting his fork aside. He was suddenly full.
“Excuse me?” stammered Molly.
“Tate died saving my life, ma’am. His dying request was that I go to his wife in Oreana and tell her in person. They have a daughter, and she’s expecting another child and Tate was afraid the shock would cause her to lose the baby, so he asked…”
“It’s alright, Joe. I’m sorry…I understand now,” Molly apologized, reaching across the table to clasp Joe’s hand in her own. “It was thoughtless of me to even ask. It was none of my business and as for your father…he must be a remarkable man, to permit his son to fulfill such a request.”
Joe patted the hand that covered his and nodded his head. “My father is a remarkable man, and my friend was special to me. Pa understands that. He was against it at first, but he…well…Pa had an experience several years ago that was somewhat like mine. It resulted in my birth.”
Molly’s eyes widened, but she did not ask. Whatever Joe had left unsaid, she would never know. The subject was closed as she watched Joe push back his chair and stand. “I think I’ll have myself a bath and then turn in. Thanks for the supper, Molly, it was wonderful,” he said, nodding and then disappearing from the room as he climbed the stairs to the upper level.
***********
By late afternoon of the next day, the sun had risen to its highest and the hot rays beat down on Joe’s head. He had been plodding along slowly, conserving both his energy and that of his horse and the pack mule. The mule had started to limp and twice, Joe had to stop and check the mule’s hoof. He dug a tiny stone out from behind the shoe, but the mule had continued to favor one leg.
From where he had stopped to rest, Joe could make out the outlines of the town, far in the distance. Fernley was not a big place; not too many people found the desert and the intense heat to their liking enough to settle there. Joe was hoping that he’d find at least a favorable room and a saloon. A tall frothy mug of beer would go good right now, he thought, imagining himself at the bar, enjoying the cool ale.
“Alright you stubborn mule, let’s get moving. If you’re good,” Joe said, amused with himself for talking to his pack animal, “I’ll find a doctor to see about your hoof, come on,” Joe urged, tugging gently at the lead rope.
**********
“Looks like this ole creature ain’t gonna be goin’ nowhere’s mister,” the old man said. “Looks like the hoof is cracked.”
Joe let out a long sigh. “Great…” he muttered. “Say mister, do you have any mules? I’ll leave you this one, just until…”
“I ain’t got no use for a lame mule, sonny. What’cha take me for, a fool?” the whiskered old man said with a snort.
“No sir, I didn’t mean to imply such a thing. Look, I’ve got some money,” Joe explained as he pulled a small role of bills from his pocket, “I’ll rent a mule from you, or a packhorse…just for a couple of weeks. That’ll give EllieMae here…”
“EllieMae?” snickered the old timer.
“My brother named her…after a girl that dumped him,” Joe explained.
The man laughed heartily, and scratched at his whiskers.
“As I was saying, EllieMae would have time to recuperate, and I’d bring your mule back when I come back for Ellie,” Joe went on to explain.
“Where ya headed, young fella?”
“Oreana,” Joe answered.
“WHAT?” the old codger shouted at Joe. “Through that arid, dry desert? Ya lost ya senses, boy?”
“No sir…it’s something I have to do…”
The older man shook his head back and forth and began pacing the floor in front of Joe. He paused, looking directly into Joe’s young face. “It’s a foolish man that sets out alone across that desert, makes no never mind the reason. Better men than you, sonny, tried it and died. What makes ya think ya can do it…when they didn’t?”
“I…” Joe gulped, when he had made this promise to his friend, he had no idea that everyone would make such a fuss over a promise. Even strangers, thought Joe, tried to talk him out of it. To Joe, it had become a quest…a do, or die situation. He was a man of honor, his word stood for something, and he’d never betray a friend, even in death.
“It’s something I have to do,” was all he told the old codger. “Will you lend me a mule or not?”
The old man tossed his hands up in the air and shook his head. “Dang fool kid,” he muttered under his breath as he led EllieMae into a stall.
“Well?” Joe dared to ask, “Will you?”
“I see ya got ya head set on dying. Sure hate to see a good mule…and ya right purty pinto… become buzzard bait, but if’n ya aimin’ to go, I can’t stop ya.”
The whiskered stable attendant sat down on a box, scratched his face and glanced up at Joe, as if deep in thought. “Tell ya what, sonny. I got a mule, and I got a right sturdy good horse. I’ll loan’em to ya…and if’n ya come back alive…then ya can have your’ns back. If ya don’t, the pinto and EllieMae are mine to keep.”
Joe was slightly taken back by the other man’s assumption that he would not be able to cross the desert and return. Tate had crossed it and lived, thought Joe…and then he recalled Tate telling him that had he not been with a small wagon train, traveling together, he would have most likely not survived.
He stared back at the man for several long moments, thinking. It came to mind that if the worst were to happen, and he didn’t make it back, what difference would it make who owned Cochise? It didn’t, though he would prefer for his favorite mount to be returned to his family. There wasn’t much else he could do, other than to take the man’s offer, or risk killing Cochise.
“It’s a deal. But you better take extra good care of my horse,” Joe warned.
“Don’t worry…I just hope ya come back. I ain’t meanin’ ya no harm, boy. Ya come by when ya ready to leave, and I’ll have everything ready for ya.” The man smiled at Joe and turned, busying himself with caring for EllieMae’s festered hoof.
***********
Joe knew he was being watched. He had seen the two fellows follow him into the saloon, so he had purposely taken a chair at a table in the back of the room where he could put his back to the wall. Joe sipped slowly on his ale, and wasn’t a bit surprised when the two sauntered over to his table and plopped themselves down without being invited. Cautiously, Joe’s left hand moved to where his fingers rested on the .45 secured to his hip. Nimble fingers released the tiny leather strap that kept the sidearm securely within its leather holster.
“How about a game of poker, friend?” one man asked as he pulled a dirty deck of cards from his pocket and began shuffling them.
“No thanks, I was just about ready to call it a night,” Joe answered, taking another swig from his mug.
“That ain’t being friendly,” the other man said with a smirk. He leaned across the table, nearer to Joe. “Just a quick game…how about it?”
Joe felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise but he maintained his composure. Something about the pair sparked a warning signal in his gut and he knew to tread lightly. He turned up his mug and downed the last of his beer, trying to appear apologetic. “Sorry friends…I had just enough money for one beer, and I’ve nothing to hock, so I’ll have to decline. Thanks anyway.”
Joe casually tipped his hand to his hat and walked nonchalantly out into the dimly lit street. Once he was a good distance away and out of sight, keeping to the shadows, he paused and watched as the two men strolled out onto the boardwalk.
Both men were older than Joe, and much larger built than he was. One man appeared to walk with a slight limp, the other, and most menacing in appearance, made Joe shiver. Perhaps it was his neat, well-tailored clothes that set him apart from his partner, or the long thin brown cigarette that Joe watched him roll and put in his mouth when he had sat down at the table with him. The man had struck his match by flicking it with the end of his fingernail. Either way, the two bore watching.
Joe hunkered back in the shadows and watched as the strangers glanced in both directions and then headed off in the opposite way from where he stood. Letting the air, flow from his mouth in a rush, Joe hurried across the street and slipped unnoticed into the lobby of the small hotel. With any luck, he thought, he had seen the last of the pair.
Joe made it to his room, and slipped inside, locking the door behind him. Sitting on the bed, he pulled off one boot and then the other. His plan was to get an early start; first he would have breakfast and as soon as the telegraph office opened, he would send a wire to his father in Virginia City, informing him of his whereabouts and letting his family know that he would soon be approaching the desert.
Joe lay back, propping his head on the pillows that he stuffed behind him. His thoughts wondered home as his mind called into being, the images of his father and two brothers. Joe wondered what they were doing now, sitting by the fire, no doubt. Ben would be smoking his pipe, and Adam, he knew, would be reading.
Hoss was probably ransacking the kitchen for a snack, and the thought of Hop Sing chasing the gentle giant from his kitchen, caused Joe so smile. He missed them, plain and simple and he couldn’t help but wonder if they missed him as well. They were all so much a part of each other, it was hard to picture one of them living apart from the others. Joe knew that Adam often spoke of leaving home, though he couldn’t picture it actually happening, he realized that Adam sought more out of life than what was offered on the Ponderosa. None of them faulted him for it, it was just a part of who Adam was, and Joe knew, though he didn’t want to admit it, that one day, Adam’s restless side would take over and his oldest brother would leave for good.
It wasn’t like that with Hoss, thought Joe. Hoss was as much a part of the land as the land itself. His middle brother was a gentle sort of man, slow to anger, quick to forgive. Hoss could be a source to reckon with though, when pushed to far. Like the rest of them, the big man would only take so much and when he’d had enough, one best back off and give the giant his space, or pay the consequences. Joe had learned the hard way, more than once.
His father had always been his hero and Joe strove to be like the man whom he most admired. They had their moments, reasoned Joe, what father and son didn’t butt heads now and then? He and Ben certainly had, and recently too. But Ben, wiser by far than most men, had conceded and given in to his youngest son’s whim. Being the kind of father that he was, Ben was prone to letting his sons make their own decisions, learn the hard way if they must. Indulge them somewhat, but never once had Ben given them bad advice or purposely tell them something that wasn’t so. Joe knew his father feared for his well being, but had decided to give in to Joe’s demand to make this trip, even if it did not set well with him.
Joe recalled the tender scene when they had parted. Ben’s strong arms about his shoulders in a tight hug, the way his father’s voice had quivered when he had wished him God’s speed, and the dark ebony eyes that had filled with tears and the man within his father that refused to let them flow. Joe closed his eyes, his father’s face flashed before his mind’s eye, smiling and waving as he watched his son ride away, fearing the worse, but believing that God would somehow bring his boy home, safe and sound.
Ben’s parting words repeated themselves over and over in his head. “Promise me son, you’ll come back to me...” It was a father’s plea as he whispered farewell to his beloved, youngest son.
“I promise, Pa…I promise,” muttered Joe as he drifted off to sleep.
***********
The first day and half into the hot, arid, desert had already begun taking its toll on the young man. Sweat dripped from his brow and stung his eyes. Joe was constantly wiping the salty droplets out of his eyes, for they obscured his vision. He had slowed down, traveling a much slower pace, saving the animals’ strength and the water that it took to satisfy their thirst.
Joe glanced over his shoulder for the hundredth time. Was his imagination playing tricks on him, or was the heat so overpowering that his weary mind had conjured up visions of two lone riders on the horizon behind him. Was he being followed, or were there other travelers moving in the same direction as he? Joe rubbed his wet neckerchief over his eyes and studied the movements behind him. The thought that he could wait right where he was, for the pair to catch up to him, crossed his mind. But, there was no shade to be seen in which to wait, no place any cooler than where he was at this moment. And looking back once more, only told him that the vision he believed he had seen, had suddenly vanished.
“A mirage,” he mumbled to himself. “Had to be. Couldn’t be another man, or two, as fool-hearty as I, thinking they could cross this hell-hole same as me…could there?”
He laughed softly to himself. The sound of his voice seemed shallow and empty, both at the same time. There was nothing, nor anyone to keep him company other than his horse and the stubborn old mule, LuLu Belle. Joe glanced in the creature’s direction and snickered, remembering that the old man had laughed at EllieMae’s name.
“Heat must be getting to me, Charlie,” Joe muttered to his horse, “I’ve gone to talking to myself,” he snickered. “Worse, I’ve started seeing things!”
**********
By nightfall, Joe was worn to a frazzle as he slipped from Charlie’s back and began to make camp. He was glad for the small bundle of kindling he had brought along. It was just enough, if he used it wisely, to furnish himself with a small fire for several nights. He’d brew his morning coffee in the evenings and then, to save the wood, he’d drink it cold come morning. It wasn’t the best of plans, but Joe figured to make the wood last, he’d have to give up something and as for the coffee, cold was better than none at all, he reasoned.
By the third night, Joe was so weary, so extremely hot and dry that he practically fell into his bedroll. He had seen the vision off in the distance, and suspected that he was being followed. As to by whom and why, he could come up with no answer, and he was too tuckered out to care. On this night, he would forego the small fire, keeping a cold camp might mislead whoever it was that was trailing him. When Joe snuggled down into his blanket, for the nights were cool, he had his gun close to his side.
“I’ll sleep with one eye opened,” he told himself, minutes before lapsing into an exhausted sleep.
********
“Quiet,” whispered the first man.
Joe had heard them coming. He lay motionless, faking sleep and waiting for just the right moment. Timing was everything, he remembered his oldest brother telling him on more than one occasion.
The two men crept silently toward him. Joe peeked from beneath his lowered lashes, sure that his face could not be seen in the dark. One man held a gun pointed downward but not directly at him. The second man carried what looked like a club in one hand and a small lantern in the other. Neither seemed to worry that the soft glow from their lantern might wake him, and they certainly weren’t worried that he could possibly be armed.
“Hit ‘em hard,” the first man said.
When the second man swung back the club, pausing to take aim, Joe jumped from his bedroll, gun in hand and pointed directly at the pair. The two intruders, taken off guard by Joe’s sudden movement, froze.
“Drop it,” Joe ordered. “NOW!” he shouted when the pair failed to respond to his order.
He recognized one of the men as one who had tried to entice him into a game of poker. The second man, Joe recognized, and was dumbfounded at seeing the old whiskered stable master whom he had bargained with over the mules and Cochise. Anger surged through Joe’s veins and the shocked expression must have shown, for the man holding the gun at him grinned. The other man snickered a