Holdin’ the Cut

By Harper

“I don’t take orders from no jumped up college boy! I been workin’ cattle all my life and I know better’n you what needs to be done!” Homer Riley climbed down from his horse as he shouted, swiping his hat angrily against his leg. “I moved them cattle to the south meadow ’cause that’s the best place for ’em!”

“Didn’t my brother tell you I wanted them to remain where they were another week?” Adam strode forward from the porch to meet Riley, his low voice and precise diction betraying his anger.

“Your brother? You mean that yapping puppy you sent out? If you want to talk to me, you come yourself; don’t send no kid to tell me what to do!”

“That kid was my representing my authority, carrying a directive from me. He came back dirty and bruised, and I want to know why!”

“I never touched the kid! No one can say that I did!”

“No, you ‘touched’ his horse. Slapping his nose with a quirt so hard he unseated his rider.”

“Came whinin’ home to his daddy, did he?” Riley’s sneer turned his pleasant face into an ugly mask. “He got in the way as I was working my horse—purely accidental-like. If the kid can’t sit a horse, ya can’t expect me to nursemaid ’im.”

“Joe didn’t say a word! It was one of the other hands, someone who objects to a grown man knocking a ten-year-old boy off his horse! You’re lucky my brother wasn’t seriously injured, and you’re damned lucky that Charlie interceded for you—he seemed to think it could have been an accident.” Adam took a deep breath, lowering his tone of voice. “Tomorrow you will move that herd back where it came from, and keep it there for another week.”

“You want me to bring them back? And move them again in a week? That’s the stupidest, orneriest—you’re just doin’ this out of spite! There ain’t no need to move them cattle back!“

“When did you become ranch foreman, Riley? Because until you hold that position, you take orders, you don’t give them! And you take orders from my father, from the foreman, or from me. If you don’t like the hierarchy, no one is forcing you to stay.”

“I sure as hell don’t like the hire—higher—the way you’re talkin’ to me! I’m a top hand! There are plenty of spreads that would treat me like a top hand and not like some ignorant slop-boy!”

“Those cattle go back tomorrow.”

“I know more about trail drives and movin’ cattle than you ever will! And I say they stay where they are!”

Adam’s eyes narrowed, and as he opened his mouth, an inner voice suggested he stop and think, but he remembered his brother’s torn, muddy shirt and bruised shoulder, and he plunged ahead. “You move those cattle back, or you’re fired.”

“Then I guess I’m fired, ’cause there’s no way in hell I’m movin’ those cattle back!”

“Fine! You can pick up your pay at the house after you clear your belongings out of the bunkhouse.”

Riley jammed his hat on his head, swearing loudly as he stomped away. Adam felt his face flush at the words shouted back to him. The eyes of the crew working near the corral were riveted on him. They had been too far away to hear the argument, but they were hearing every one of Riley’s shouted words now. Adam stared stubbornly straight ahead.

His father was not going to be happy with the way he handled this.

**********

Shortly after Riley picked up his pay, the front door slammed open, and Joe’s staccato steps rounded his father’s desk. Adam, bent over to return the moneybox to the safe, straightened.

“Charlie told me you fired Homer Riley!” Joe’s voice was high-pitched in agitation.

“Yes, Joe, I did. Not that it’s any of your concern—”

“Not my concern! You fired him ’cause of me! You had no call to do that!”

“I didn’t fire him because of you. I fired him because he refused to do the work I wanted him to do.”

Joe stomped up to his brother, his eyes flashing with anger. Standing toe-to-toe with a ten-year-old might have been amusing if his little brother hadn’t been so furious. “You wouldn’t have fired him if I hadn’t come off my horse! Now everyone thinks I’m a baby, can’t take a little rough-housin’!”

“It was more than a little ‘rough-housing,’ according to Charlie, and according to the bruise on your shoulder.”

“And I suppose you’re going to tell Pa?” Joe continued as if Adam hadn’t spoken. “He’ll make me stop doin’ real work! I’ll be back to yard chores and helping Hop Sing like I was a kid!”

“You are a kid, and you could’ve been hurt! Perhaps you should leave working cattle to the men, mmph!“

Adam’s breath whooshed abruptly as two small hands pushed violently into his midsection.

“You ain’t my Pa; you don’t say what I do!” Another push sent Adam back a step, and Joe stomped back out the door, slamming it behind him as he went.

Welcome home, Adam thought, rubbing his belly.

**********

Home. His return from college just two weeks ago had promised so much. He wanted so badly to show his father what his education could mean to the ranch. He had hundreds of ideas that he’d been nurturing for three and a half years, and they were bubbling out of him. He would make the Ponderosa into an even more formidable holding, make the mining operations more efficient, modernize the moving of cut timber from the slopes around lake Tahoe to the sawmill, and improve the cattle breeding business.

All through the tedious days of his travel west he imagined the reunion with his family. He imagined his father clasping his shoulders, unashamed tears in his dark eyes. And Hoss, who had been nearly as tall as Adam when he left despite being only 12 years old, well, it was easy to imagine the hearty handshake and Hoss’ heavy arm around his shoulder. He saw himself tossing Joe into the air, as he had done so often before he left home. They would all be so glad to see him. When he stepped down from the stage, all his imaginings came true.

Almost all.

His father’s tears and Hoss’ heavy arm, the eager voices and hearty “welcome home!” were all that he expected, and more. His own eyes watered and his murmured “trail dust” excuse fooled no one, but he didn’t care. Clasped tight in his father’s embrace, he grinned over his shoulder into the twinkling blue eyes of his big little brother, his chest expanding with happiness. He looked around and down, expectantly.

If Joe hadn’t been standing next to Hoss, Adam didn’t think he would have recognized his little brother, so changed was he. Not just taller, but thinner—skinny, even—and reserved. Adam remembered a chubby little boy with a sunny grin who demanded, and was cheerfully given, everyone’s attention. The curly hair and green eyes were the same, but the sullen look and lowered head were nothing like the Joe he remembered.

He still could have tossed the boy into the air—with Hoss’ help—but Joe’s wary expression warned him he’d better not attempt it. Almost like I’m a stranger, Adam thought. Disengaging from his father, he knelt in front of his younger brother and extended his hands to grasp the boy’s shoulders.

“Good to see you, Joe,” he started to say, but Joe pulled away and stepped behind Hoss.

“It’s okay, Joe; it’s Adam.” Hoss said gently. He saw the disappointment in Adam’s eyes, the concern in his father’s. He tugged on Joe’s jacket, but Joe stayed behind him.

“We all need to head home,” Ben said quietly, pulling Adam to his feet. “Hop Sing has dinner waiting—we can catch up as we go.” They loaded Adam’s luggage into the buggy and headed out, Adam, Ben, and Joe in the buggy, Hoss riding alongside.

**********

The next few days were a mixture of remembrances and unfamiliarities as Adam adjusted to being home. Hoss made it easy for him—from the moment he stepped off the stage, he welcomed him into every aspect of the ranch and couldn’t wait to tell him what had happened while he was gone. Hoss’ good humor sparked instant recognition, and the years rolled away as if he had only left for college a day or so ago.

But Joe was another matter altogether.

At first. he thought that the boy just needed time to adjust to having another person at home. But days went by and he hardly said a word to Adam.

Sophisticated, urbane, educated Adam Cartwright was bothered by this more than he cared to admit. A ten-year-old kid didn’t seem to like him; there were so many other things to worry about! Why did the under-the-eyebrows scowl from a schoolboy matter?

Because he’s not just any ten-year-old, an inner voice reminded him. It seemed that the little brother who idolized him and took every word he said as ‘gospel-truth’ no longer lived at the Ponderosa; he had been replaced by a skittish, sullen boy who clearly resented his presence.

**********

Adam had plowed ahead with his projects, the first being calving pens, based on an idea he had seen back east. Hoss was skeptical, yet willing, and Ben gave him free rein to try any idea he liked. He started with drawings, and he and Hoss spent several evenings in front of the fire, poring over the large pieces of heavy butcher paper, arguing pleasantly over the project’s finer points.

“This way we’ll get the most efficient use of our resources,” Adam said as he rolled up the paper on Tuesday evening. “It’s the best way for the plans to be implemented.”

“Implemented! Just a fancy way to say ‘get it done,’” Hoss said, grinning. “Why don’t you just say that?”

“I said exactly what I meant, little brother,” Adam said, rapping Hoss on the head with the rolled paper. “‘Get it done’ is too everyday for these plans. Plans like these need to be implemented.”

“Oh ho!” Hoss grabbed Adam around the neck. “College sure didn’t hurt your good opinion of yourself!”

“I am merely giving credit where credit is due, and these plans deserve a lot of credit.” The effect of this statement was ruined by the tightening of Hoss’ arm around his brother’s neck, causing him to wheeze the last part of his sentence.

“Boys, stop wrestling in the house,” Ben said in a tone of voice he hadn’t used in years.

Hoss and Adam grinned at each other. Joe watched his older brothers wistfully.

“Don’t forget that the best resources this ranch has are the people who live and work here,” Ben added.

“Some of those resources are more liabilities than assets,” Adam said, winking at Hoss.

“Are you sayin’ I ain’t an asset?” Hoss said with mock annoyance.

“Oh, you’re an asset, all right!” Adam said, with emphasis on the first syllable, and Hoss cuffed him good-naturedly.

“Pa, what’s are li’bilities and assets?” Joe asked, wanting more than anything to join in his brothers’ teasing.

“An asset is something advantageous, like cash or land—” Ben replied.

“Or a strong, skilled hand,” Hoss put in, making a fist and flexing his biceps.

“—A liability is an obligation or a weakness,” Ben said.

“Like my little brothers,” Adam said, without thinking. “Hoss is an asset, and Joe’s a liability.”

The ticking of the grandfather clock could be heard in the silence that followed.

“It’s a joke. I just meant…” Adam started to say.

Joe’s eyes grew wide, and he turned and ran up the stairs.

“Adam!” Ben sighed. “Was that necessary?”

“We were joking! I was just including him in the joke!” Adam said weakly.

“I’ll see to him,” Hoss said, heading up the stairs.

“It might be easier for you brother to get to know you again without thoughtless teasing,” was all Ben said.

**********

The next morning’s breakfast was an uncomfortable meal. Joe clearly still remembered Adam’s remark, and Adam just as clearly pretended nothing was wrong.

“Adam,” Ben said, “I’d like you to join me in town today at my meeting with the bank manager.”

 

“Certainly, Pa, if that’s…”

“Pa, will you stop at the Muncie’s and pick up them boots we ordered?” Joe asked.

“Those boots, Joe,” Adam said with a glare across the table. “And it is a breach of etiquette to interrupt another person’s conversation.”

“Who asked you?“ Joe snapped back.

“Joseph!” Ben said. “Mind your tongue! I will be happy to pick up the boots, but I expect you to keep a civil conversation at the table.”

“Yes, sir,” Joe said, looking down at his plate.

**********

Joe kicked a stone in front of him all the way to the barn with choppy, discouraged swings of his leg. He still had a hard time recognizing Adam as the brother who sat with him when he had nightmares, read him stories, and wiped his nose when he was small. Adam was very different from the snippets of memory that he clung to.

For one thing, he talked funny, and half of what he said was in words Joe had never heard before. Hoss told him the Adam they knew was under the eastern polish and softened R's of Boston. Nothing about Adam seemed familiar to Joe, though, and he couldn’t help but wonder if anything he remembered was a true memory, or just something his father or brother told him.

Adam kept his distance, too. Since his greeting when got off the stage, he hadn’t started any conversations with Joe directly. It might’ve been that he was just so excited about his plans, like Pa suggested, or that he needed time to feel at home again, like Hop Sing said. When Joe told Hoss that Adam didn’t seem to even see him or hear him, Hoss tousled his hair and said he was imagining things. But Hoss never had to jump high to get into his older brothers’ sightlines; Hoss never had to tug on anyone’s sleeve to get them to hear his questions. Hoss’ voice was easily heard of the rustle of sketch paper and discussions of “improvements,” and when Hoss spoke, Adam listened.

Improvements. Joe hated that word more and more—as if the Ponderosa weren’t already the best ranch anywhere! Joe couldn’t see why Adam wanted to change everything. And how could Pa let him?

**********

After leaving the breakfast table, Adam headed to the barn to saddle his horse. He was seething with his own brand of indignation. Since his return, he was sure that he had been nothing but pleasant to the boy. And what was his return? Sullen or resentful looks. This morning was just another example of Joe interrupting Adam’s conversations to demand his father’s attention. His father was patient with the interruptions, but Adam saw Joe’s behavior as a deliberate attempt to annoy him.

He felt it was his duty as an older brother to let Joe know when he should mind his manners.

He turned to pick up his saddle and found Joe standing tautly in front of him, flaring up like well-dried tinder.

“How am I supposed to know what you think I’ve done wrong, when you use words nobody but you can understand? Etty-cat! Do you do that to make me feel dumb?” Joe said without preamble.

“I’m not trying to make you feel dumb…”

“Then you must be doin’ it to prove you’re better ’n everybody else. The funny thing is, you don’t even have to do it—folks here already think you are better. Pa, and Hoss—they think you’re better than anyone.”

“Joe…”

“I can’t help it if I ain’t as good as you or Hoss—I know I got some growin’ up to do. It’s just that when you keep tellin’ me and tellin’ me I’m not good enough, especially in front of Pa or Hoss, well, I just gotta fight ya.”

Adam could only stare. This outburst had obviously been building for a while.

Joe took a deep breath, and visibly calmed down, his voice softer. “I know that you and Hoss are a help to Pa, and I ain’t nothing but a—a liability, like you said, somethin’ that needs lookin’ after or causes problems. I’m tryin’ with you, though. Pa always said all you can do is try. But I don’t think you’re tryin’ at all. And not tryin’ shows that you don’t think it’s worth tryin’ for…”

Adam couldn’t stand the hurt look on his brother’s face, his agitated voice a moment longer. “Joe, please, I don’t know what you mean. Trying for what?”

Joe stopped short, silent and staring at Adam for a long moment. “You don’t even know what I’m talkin’ about, do you?” he whispered.

“No, Joe, I’m sorry, I don’t.” Adam could see the boy’s distress at his words, but he didn’t know what to say to help him. “Please tell me what you mean.”

For a moment, Joe almost turned to his brother like he had so long ago when he was troubled. But the moment passed, and he turned away. “Never mind,” he murmured, and left the barn.

Adam stared after him, very sure that he had just made a big mistake, but not sure what that mistake was, or even worse, how to fix it.

**********

That evening Joe again sat still, not contributing to the family conversation. Before Adam returned, he’d have told his father and Hoss about the new girl in school, or frog catching, or other things that were important in Joe’s day-to-day life. But Adam dismissed what he called Joe’s “chatter” without listening, and changed the subject back to his own plans and ideas.

Ben noted that although Joe was quiet, he was paying close attention to his brothers’ conversation. He was studying his older brother, and not very subtly, although Adam didn’t seem to notice. Joe seemed especially intent on Adam’s words, his eye darting back and forth between his brothers like a traveler trying desperately to understand the language of a strange land. Listening to Adam talk, Ben thought, that’s probably what it seems like to Joe.

It was clear to his father that Adam’s enthusiasm and joy at the newness of being home should be indulged. It was also clear that Joe was feeling left out of everyone’s attentions, not just Adam’s, and perhaps he needed some indulging, too.

“Adam,” Ben cut in on the discussion on the right type of fence posts for the proposed pens. “You’ve been working hard the last few days, why don’t you and your brothers go fishing on Saturday?”

“Yeah, Adam!” Hoss jumped in. “You ain’t been up to the lake yet. We can get Hop Sing to make us a lunch, and we can take a look at that meadow I was telling you might be a good place to winter the stock.”

“I can show you my secret fishin’ spot,” Joe spoke up, unexpectedly. Fishing was something he did understand.

“Let’s do that,” Adam said, looking at Hoss.

**********

The next day, however, Ben was summoned to the timber camp, and since he was likely to be gone a few days, he left Adam in charge. Seeing his chance to impress his father, Adam made several decisions for the work crews, including sending Joe out to Riley’s crew with the ill-fated message about not moving the herd just yet. The unhappy result, Adam’s firing of Riley, was the first of a series of difficult days for Adam.

After Riley left, the rest of the crew made their resentment clear. Simple tasks took twice as long as they should and the hands seemed to need additional instructions to understand what Adam wanted.

Hoss stepped in on more than one occasion, patiently chiding the men and sending them on their way with a pat on the back or quick thanks. Adam was grateful; although Hoss was only sixteen, he was well respected by the cowhands and his presence had a calming effect. Even so, two more of Riley’s Texas cronies quit, leaving the branding crew short-handed and Adam short-tempered.

When the fencing supplies arrived on Saturday, two days earlier than expected, Adam decided to get a jump on his pet project and assigned several cowhands to begin unloading the supplies near the site for the new pens. He called Hoss over to his father’s desk to review the plans.

The front door opened and Joe came in, carrying his fishing pole. He stood for a few moments, and then stammered a sentence that his brothers didn’t hear. A second attempt brought Hoss’ head up, but Adam continued to draw. Adam finally noticed Hoss’ inattention, and glanced up absently from the papers spread across his father’s desk.

“Did you need something, Joe?”

“I—we talked about goin’ to—I was gonna show you my secret fishing spot…” Joe said.

“Let’s talk about it a little later, hmmm? I’ve got to finish up here first, and I’m sure you have chores to do. None of us has time for trivial things right now.” Adam bent his head back to his drawings. He didn’t see Joe’s hurt expression as the boy turned and went back out the door.

“Hoss, I want to show you some changes I’ve made on the new pens. “ His pencil tapped the drawing. “I’ve re-drawn this section; we can be much more efficient when we move the cattle in and out if we move the gate. It will save us time and we can keep better track of the mavericks and strays.”

Hoss did not respond. Adam looked up and found him staring at the closed front door.

“Hoss?” Adam said, tapping him on the arm. “Are you with me?”

Hoss looked at Adam for a long moment. “You can’t keep turning him away and then wonder why he doesn’t welcome you back.”

“What? Are you talking about Joe?”

“You’ve been tellin’ Pa that Joe hasn’t said much to you since you been back. He just tried to talk to you, get you to go fishing like we planned, and you turned him away.”

Adam dropped his pencil in exasperation. “With Pa called away unexpectedly, and being short-handed, now is clearly not the time for fishing. Joe must realize that. I’m not turning him away; it’s just that there are more important things than fishing…”

“You do it every day, Adam, looking over the top of his head and not seein’ him, not hearin’ him when he does talk to ya. He had to say his piece three times just now, before you even knew he was in the room. And when he finally got your attention, you brushed him off like he was a pesky fly. Ya can’t keep doin’ that and then turn around and expect him to accept everything you say.”

It was a long speech for Hoss, and because Hoss was never one for speeches, long or short, he captured Adam’s attention wholly.

Hoss continued. “You say you’re glad to be back with your family, but I don’t think you are back, not really. Your head is in them charts and drawings, and you keep workin’ so hard to change everything that you ignore how things are, how they have been, and for Joe, how they need to be. How he needs you to be.

“He talked of nothin’ but you comin’ home for the last month; how he was gonna show you this and that. He even asked me if I thought you would like him. He sorta thought that you wouldn’t remember him.”

“That’s ridiculous! Of course I remember him! I practically raised him, helping Pa and Marie with him since the day he was born. He knows that! He’s mad because he’d rather go fishing and get out of his responsibilities.”

“He’s not shirkin’ his chores; he’s tryin’ to get your attention.”

Adam took a deep breath. “You’re wrong, Hoss. It’s clear that you, and to some extent Pa, have been indulging that boy. He should be expected to do his chores, like I had to, like you had to…”

 

“Adam, this ain’t about chores! It’s about mending things with Joe, before it’s too late.”

“I think you are exaggerating the situation. He’s just a spoiled little boy, looking for a chance to get out of some unpleasant tasks.”

Hoss shook his head. “You ain’t hearin’ what I’m sayin’.”

“I hear you, I just disagree with you. Now let’s get back to this—I want to finish these plans and get started on these new pens today.”

Hoss shook his head, but looked back down at the desk, and they went back to discussing Adam’s drawings.

**********

Ben returned that afternoon, and when Adam returned from the work site for dinner, he walked out the barn to greet him. He waited as Adam unsaddled his horse, considering before he spoke.

“Adam, I ran into Riley in town.”

Adam felt his face redden; he felt like a schoolboy bringing home an unfavorable note from his teacher. He pulled the saddle onto a stand and took out a currycomb. “I suppose he told you I fired him.”

“Yes.”

Adam began roughing up his horse’s coat with circular motions of the currycomb.

“Well? Are you going to tell me why you fired him?”

“I expect Riley has already told you.”

“Yes, but I’d like to hear your side of the story.”

“What did Riley say?”

Ben narrowed his eyes at the evasion, but answered. “He said you don’t give clear orders, you don’t know cattle, and you talk down to him. Oh, and I believe he said you send your baby brother to do your dirty work.”

Adam gritted his teeth. “That’s just what he would say, that son of a…”

“Adam, Riley is one of the biggest loudmouths we’ve ever had work for us. He’s a good hand with cattle, however, and popular with the other hands, especially the other Texans. He would probably have moved on sooner or later, as a result of his own contrariness, but we could have used his skill for a while yet. What caused the problem now?”

“He insisted on moving some cattle to the south meadow earlier than I wanted him to—I sent Joe out to give him the message to stay put. Not only did he ignore my orders and move the cattle anyway, he arranged a little ‘accident’ for Joe.” Adam felt a twinge of guilt. Joe had kept quiet about coming off his horse, not wanting any fussing, especially from Pa. Now Adam was telling the story to his own advantage, but also in the way most likely to upset his father.

“Accident! What do you mean? Is Joe all right?”

“He’s fine—Riley just ‘accidentally’ caught Joe’s horse across the nose with his quirt; the horse shied, and Joe fell. He’s just a little bruised.”

Ben looked at his oldest son for a long moment. Adam wondered if his father saw through his effort to justify his actions.

“Riley refused to follow my orders. He as good as called me a fool. But when Charlie told me about how he treated Joe, I lost my temper.”

“Charlie told you about it? What did Joe say?”

That wasn’t what Adam expected at all. “What do you mean?” he hedged.

“I mean, did Joe ask you to intervene?”

“Well, no, as a matter of fact, Joe was quite angry with me—but Pa, he’s just a kid…”

“Are you sure you’re not just using his treatment of Joe as an excuse to get rid of someone who disagrees with you?”

“Are you suggesting I should have ignored what he did to Joe?” Adam made an effort to control his voice; it wouldn’t do to shout back at his father.

“He’s a boy who’s trying to prove himself with the hands, and you’ve undermined that effort.” Ben held up his hands at Adam’s protest. “Now I’m not saying Riley should be able to take out his anger on anyone, let alone a ten-year-old boy, but from Joe’s point of view, his older brother is mopping up after him. He’s lost face.”

Ben came around the other side of Adam’s horse and faced his son. “Riley thought you were questioning his expertise, and that you deliberately used words that he didn’t understand to show him up. You felt he was questioning your authority—there seems to be injured pride all around.”

“Pa, I hope you don’t think that I fired him just because he doesn’t like the way I express myself!”

“No, son, you fired him because he wouldn’t take orders—and after hearing of the way he treated your brother, I would have fired him, too. But I want you to understand the effects of your decision. All the rest of the hands heard was Riley’s complaints. To them, you fired him for no real reason. Joe never told anyone about coming off his horse—Charlie’s the only one who knew. If the hands knew how Riley treated Joe, they’d have helped him on his way. If they understood your reasons for keeping the cattle where they were, they might have accepted your decision. But you didn’t give them a chance to understand any of that.”

“Are you saying I should have accused Riley of trying to hurt Joe in front of the other men? Because I just was not going to do that, Pa. It was between Riley and me, and it was not anyone else’s business!”

“Then why did you start the argument in sight of everyone? Why not call Riley into the house for a man-to-man discussion? Joe deliberately said nothing of the incident—did you think about why he would do that? Joe is more perceptive than you think—he knew accusing Riley would cause a rift among the men. Did you explain to Riley the reason you wanted the cattle to stay? From his point of view, he’s an experienced cowhand who’s been told he doesn’t know his job. Now you’ve lost not just Riley but two others, and several of the other Texans are talking about quitting.”

“Pa, all I’m trying to do is improve production, save the hands some work, plan ahead for the best yield. All the things you sent me to school to learn. I want to apply what I’ve learned, is that so wrong?”

“No, son, it’s admirable. But you can’t push your ideas onto people without explanation and expect them to accept them without argument. Understanding why you want them to do something may make the difference between cheerful cooperation and bitter resentment.”

Adam’s expression indicated he was far from agreeing with his father. “Since when is it necessary to explain to an employee why he has to do something? He’s being paid to do a job, not question the job itself…”

“Adam!” Ben interrupted. “I don’t know where this ‘my way without question’ attitude comes from, but I’m telling you right now you will have nothing but trouble if you expect blind obedience. Cowhands, especially Texans like Riley, have very independent natures. They’re as tough as worn boot leather and will endure the most trying conditions without complaint if they feel they are being treated fairly. Treat them like the cattle they work, and you will have a very unhappy crew.”

Adam wasn’t feeling so happy himself right now. “I thought you said I would have free rein to try out my ideas.”

Ben shook his head. “I’m just trying to point out a smoother path. I want you to try out your ideas, but don’t throw away the experienced hands’ ideas just because they aren’t new. There’s lots of good reasons for doing things the way we’ve always done them. Don’t ride over those reasons without examining them, that’s all I ask.”

*********

They had a little celebration of Ben’s return with a special dessert. Since it was Saturday night, Adam and Hoss decided to go to town and shortly after the meal, went upstairs to get ready.

Joe waited until his brothers had left the room, and then asked the question he had been worrying about all day.

“Pa?”

Ben put down his coffee and looked expectantly at Joe.

“Pa, what does tiv-um, trivial mean?”

 

“It means inconsequential—mm, something that’s not very important.”

The crestfallen look on Joe’s face didn’t seem in tune with a simple vocabulary question.

“Why do you ask, Joe?”

“No reason, Pa, just a word I heard somewhere. Goodnight, Pa.”

No hug or kiss, just up the stairs an hour early, with a bowed head.

“Goodnight, Joe.” Ben watched him to the top of the stairs. He had a good idea where Joe had heard the word.

***********

Ben folded the crudely written note. “Thanks, Pete. Grab yourself a meal in the bunkhouse; I’ll have a reply for you to take back.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Cartwright.”

Ben stood on the porch, considering the request he had just received from the Diamond C. Out of the blue Matthew Carver sent notice that he was moving a herd of cattle to the trailhead to take advantage of good cattle prices.

Like most ranches, the Ponderosa and the Diamond C had always maintained the courtesy of informing each other when they would be rounding up and moving a herd. Representatives of the neighboring ranch would “cut the trail” of the driven herd to inspect it for any of their cattle that may have joined the passing herd. Once the stray cattle were cut from the main herd, the ranch representatives would hold the strays as the herd moved on, and then drive them back to their home range.

Matthew Carver, exacting and stubborn, insisted that the representatives sent to cut the trail for the Ponderosa include a member of the Cartwright family.

No other ranchers demanded a Cartwright as a representative. Hoss had long suspected an incident in the past had established the tradition, an incident that exacted some obligation on his father’s part, but Ben never spoke of it. No matter what, Ben had always gone himself, or sent Hoss or Adam as representatives to the Diamond C.

Ben was needed in town, at the cattleman’s association meeting, and then up at one of the mines to confer with his mine manager. Hoss was needed elsewhere, several elsewheres, really. None of those things could be put off. But neither could Matthew Carver. So, Adam would have to represent the Ponderosa.

It’s not like Adam’s never represented before, Ben reminded himself. He’s done it many times—just not recently.

Ben made his way back to the table, tapping the note against his leg. Adam was laughing with Hoss over his breakfast, and Ben watched both young men with not a small amount of pride. Hoss and Adam had renewed their close relationship in a blink of an eye. Ben’s glance skimmed over to Joe, whose head was down and whose fork was idly pushing now-cold eggs around on his plate. He saw the longing in the boy’s eyes as he looked up at his laughing brothers; the expression on Joe’s face made his decision for him.

“Matthew Carver is driving a herd to market,” he began, and heard two resounding groans in response.

“I s’pose he’ll expect a Cartwright to represent at the cut,” Hoss said with a sigh.

“Yes, he does, and that is what will happen, young man, so no more resentful tones, please, about a man whose been a friend to this ranch for more years than you’ve been alive.”

Hoss’ mouth snapped shut at this uncharacteristic sharpness from his father.

“I’m sure Hoss meant no disrespect, Pa,” Adam said.

Ben looked around his table, regretting the downward gazes of his two younger sons. Adam merely looked curious.

“Adam, I want you and Joseph to represent the Ponderosa with the Diamond C.”

The silence that followed was thick with glances and glares between brothers. A survey of the table showed Adam’s surprise, Hoss’ bewilderment, and Joe’s resentment.

“Is it necessary to send two of us…”

“Pa, don’t you think…”

“I can represent by myself…”

The three replies were blurted out simultaneously. The three brothers looked at each other, then at their father, and then became silent.

“Hoss, I need you to finish the jobs you’ve started at the timber camp and up in south meadow. That leaves you Adam, but you’ve been away a long time, and I think you’ll need a good guide on this task.”

Wiser than Joe, the two older brothers kept silent.

“Pa, I can represent by myself with Mr. Carver. No need to send Adam at all,” Joe said.

Ben waited for a moment, thinking through his response. It wouldn’t do to point out that a ten-year-old representing the ranch was a little ludicrous, and that Matthew Carver might even consider it an insult. But Joe flared up at any hint that he wasn’t a fully capable representative of the Cartwright family.

“I’ve done it before,” Joe plowed ahead in the face of his father’s silence. “I know what to do, how to hold the stray cut, move it to the home herd. I been holdin’ the cut since I was nine years old!”

None of the older Cartwrights dared to look at each other.

“You may have worked with strays before, but you’ve never represented by yourself…”

“That’s not fair!” Joe shot back.

“You’ve never represented by yourself,” Ben repeated, raising his hand to silence his son. “Adam has. Yes, you can hold the cut with the best of them, but it’s a two-man job at the very least, and he will need your help.” Joe was somewhat mollified by “two-man job,” as Ben knew he would be.

“I suggest you head out this afternoon, camp on Eagle Ridge just above the trail cutoff—that way you’ll be ready at sunrise to meet the herd.”

 

Hoss snorted. “Mr. Carver is a stickler for startin’ the day at sunrise.” He stood up, wiping his mouth with his napkin, and then headed for the door. “Come on, Joe, we’ll start gettin’ your gear together.”

Joe grabbed a piece of bacon and ran out after Hoss.

“Pa you can’t seriously mean to have Joe help me represent with Matthew Carver,” Adam said.

“Why not? He’s done it before. He’s a Cartwright; Matthew Carver will be doubly satisfied if there are two of you there.”

“Or insulted that you send a child to do the job!”

“That’s why you’re going,” Ben said calmly. “To make it clear that we respect Carver’s request, and uphold the tradition.”

Adam frowned. “Pa, I don’t need the help of a ten-year-old…”

“The two of you are working real hard, each pretending the other doesn’t exist,” Ben began.

“That’s not fair! I’ve been nothing but patient with that boy! He’s the one with the childish resentment…”

“Adam, are you listening to yourself? ‘That’s not fair’—that’s exactly what Joe just said not two minutes ago. Now who’s acting childish? No, I’ve decided. You and Joe will represent the Ponderosa with the Diamond C.”

“But Pa…”

“And it will give you and your brother a chance to spend some time together. I don’t see that you’ve been able to do that yet.”

Adam looked away. “Well, my plans for the calving pens have taken up a lot of time…”

“And time is what you will have with this chore, son,” Ben said firmly. “Time with your brother.”

*********

Adam met Hoss near the corral.

“Joe’s down at the remuda, choosin’ the horses you’ll need,” Hoss said. “We figured a cutting horse, a remount, and a saddle horse for the trail for each of you. You’ll only be gone 2-3 days; you can pack your supplies in your saddlebags.”

“Joe’s choosing the horses?”

Hoss stopped short, his jaw tightening. “It’s gettin’ to be a knee-jerk response with you, ain’t it?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Second guessin’ everthing that boy does.”

“I just think it’s a lot of responsibility, expecting a boy to choose suitable horses for a trip like this.”

“Who should choose ’em? You? You ain’t been around long enough to know which horse is best suited for a job. Me? Pa? Why would we be better able to choose than Joe, who’s been working with Charlie and who saw every last one of the remuda trained for cattle work?”

“Maybe Charlie would be better qualified…”

“Maybe he would. Maybe by-passin’ Joe, steppin’ all over his pride, would get you a more suitable mount for working strays. But I doubt it.”

“But Joe’s just a kid…”

“I don’t think you’ve noticed, but Joe takes horses very seriously. He knows how important it is to have a good mount for workin’ strays, especially strays from the high meadow that haven’t been horse-handled in a long spell.”

“He’s made it clear he feels he is competent, but…”

“Joe’s been holdin’ the cut for the last year or so.”

“I know, I know, since he was nine years old.”

Hoss grinned, but merely said, “He’s earned the responsibility, Adam. You can’t try to take it away from him, or make it seem like he can’t do it. He can do it. You’ve got to wrap your head around that idea. That little boy you knew before you went east ain’t here no more.”

**********

Adam was subjected to a similar lecture from his father as he packed his saddlebag for the trip.

“Adam, you have to realize Joe is not the little boy you left behind four years ago,” Ben said, sitting on Adam’s bed as Adam searched for something in his dresser drawers.

Adam wondered if Hoss and his father had compared notes before talking with him.

“I see you trying to tell your brother things that he already knows, things that he gets impatient hearing. I see him trying to tell you things that you brush aside like it’s the silliness of a child. I see resentment becoming a wall between you.”

“Pa, I don’t….”

“You’re the adult. Joe is still a child—not that I would say that to him—and he can’t understand why he feels the way he does; he just knows that he feels it.”

Ben paused, allowing his words time to sink in, and then he continued.

“Even though he’s been holding the cut since he was nine years old”—they shared a smile at this—“he’s never done it alone. And remember, he’s that same impulsive baby brother who tried to ride standing up on his saddle the first time he was allowed on a horse.” Ben smiled at his oldest son. “Take care, son, and try to be patient with your brother.”

********

Adam and Joe headed out shortly after lunch, each of them leading two horses. Neither of them spoke much.

Adam thought quite a bit about Hoss’ and his father’s words. He thought about what it must have been like while he was gone and what it must be like for Joe since he returned. I miss my little brother, he realized, with a sudden ache in his chest. He glanced at the boy riding beside him. Gone were the rounded face, the unconditional admiration, and the hugs around the neck. In their place were bony knees and elbows, sullen replies, and wary glances.

When Joe was six, they never could get him to be quiet. He chattered away with question after question from the time he got up until the time he went to bed. Now, Joe shied away from him like a young colt shies from the bridle. Ironic, thought Adam, the number of times I used to wish that Joe would just shut up; now I wish nothing more than to have my little brother talk to me.

“Joe,” he began, and wasn’t encouraged by the way Joe continued to look straight ahead. “Maybe you can point out some things as we ride, you know, help me get reacquainted with the ranch. It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden up here.”

The look Joe returned was wary, as if he expected some hidden reason for Adam’s request. “Okay,” he agreed after a long silence. “What do you want to know?”

Adam felt relief that the boy was not turning away. “Maybe you can start by telling me about how the hunting has been, how breeding program has been going, how severe the winters have been?”

Half an hour later, Adam congratulated himself on his notion. Once Joe started, he had been talking almost non-stop, pointing out landmarks, taking Adam through the trials of last winter, the neighboring ranches, the current issues facing the cattleman’s association. Adam wondered if his father was aware of how much Joe knew of the workings of the ranch. He had to have absorbed this information just by being around when decisions were made.

“Look, there’s that buck I was telling you about.” Joe’s low voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Where?”

“At the edge of the meadow, just where the aspen grove starts.”

Adam squinted into the distance. “I don’t see…”

“Just under the aspen that’s taller than all the rest. He’s movin’ now, do you see him?”

The subtle movement of tawny coat allowed Adam to spot the deer his brother had seen, well over half a mile away.

“I see him, now.” Adam looked at his brother. “You’ve got great eyes, Joe. I never would have seen him at all.”

Joe looked down, but Adam saw the slight tinge of red that traveled up the boy’s face, and it encouraged him to continue his thought. “You know just what to look for. You saw that eagle on the pine tree, the cougar tracks, and now that buck that was nearly invisible to me. You are very good at seeing what’s around you, reading all the signs into a story of what happened before.”

The blush deepened, and the boy’s head lowered further. “Thanks, Adam,” he said at last.

That’s the first time he’s said my name since I’ve been back, Adam realized.

They both seemed to ride more relaxed in the saddle after that.

**********

They made good progress, and reached Eagle Ridge in early evening. They set up camp, dividing the chores companionably. When the sun set, Adam banked the fire, and they both slid into their bedrolls.

The long ride made Adam drowsy, but didn’t seem to have had the same effect on Joe.

“Adam?”

“Hmm?”

“Adam?”

“What, Joe?”

“What’s college like?”

Adam smiled. The cork is truly out of the bottle, he thought.

“Well, it’s a school, but a very big school, with scholars from all over the world, and interesting conversations, challenging studies…”

“But it’s school! Why did you like it so much?”

“I wanted to learn, Joe. I wanted to study and expand my thinking.”

“Couldn’t you have done that here?”

Adam waited for a moment, pondering how to explain. “Remember when you wrote to me that you wanted to work with your pony, to break it to saddle?”

“Ye-ah, but what’s that got to do with…”

“And you said you wanted to learn from Charlie, no one else?”

“Charlie’s the best! I wanted him to help me ’cause he’s the best horse-wrangler we ever saw!”

“Well, imagine that there are lots of other things you want to do, too, but you don’t know much about how to do them. What would you do?”

“Find out who does them best, and ask them to teach me. Or at least copy the way they do it.”

“That’s why I went to college. There were things that I wanted to learn, and I needed to go to the place that had all the experts—they call them professors—on all those things.”

The silence stretched. Adam could almost hear his little brother thinking.

“Adam?”

“Yes, Joe.” Now what will he ask? Adam thought.

“Are there professors and a college for learnin’ to be a top hand?”

Adam’s smile wasn’t visible in the dark, but Joe heard it in his voice. “I think you have to learn that outside of a classroom, Joe.”

“Oh.”

The long pause made Adam think Joe had at last fallen asleep.

“Adam?”

“Joe, that’s enough questions for tonight, okay?”

“Just one more?”

Adam sighed. “All right.”

“Did you miss m—us while you were at college?” Joe’s voice had a wistful quality to it.

Careful, Adam thought. “Yes, Joe, I missed you. I missed you very much. But I knew I would see you again when my studies were over.”

“I missed you, Adam. But then I started to think you weren’t ever coming back. Pa said you would, but you didn’t. And you said you would, but you didn’t. I figured you were gone for good, like—like my mama, I guess.” Joe hesitated. “And then—then, when you finally did come back, I —I couldn’t remember ya.”

Adam was startled by this. His brothers were etched so strongly into his heart that it never occurred to him that he had been forgotten.

“Do you remember me now, Joe?” Adam asked softly.

Joe rolled over and faced his brother. “Yeah, when you say something, or do something that you always used to do, I remember. Like when you yelled at me for using bad words, or for racin’ my pony, or not gettin’ up on time.”

Adam felt his face flush. Was that the only impression that remained from Joe’s six-year-old memory? Someone who yelled at him all the time?

Joe must’ve sensed something in his brother’s silence, for he hastily added, “Oh, and I remember fishin’, you, me and Hoss, and that time I fell in through the ice on the lake and you carried me all the way home. And readin’. You would always read to me.”

“I’m glad you remember those things, Joe. I remembered them, too, and when I was lonesome, I would imagine what you and Hoss were up to without me around to rein you in.”

This time the smile was in Joe’s voice. “Pa’s done a lot of reinin’ in while you were gone.”

“Well, here’s a little more ‘reinin’ in’—go to sleep.”

“But you never told me what college was really like.” Just a faint hint, but Adam could hear the whine of the six-year-old he remembered in his brother’s voice.

“Joe, go to sleep.”

 

“Yessir.”

**********

The sun had yet to paint colors into the landscape when they left the campsite. Camp chores, dousing the fire—all was done with minimal talking, but a comfortable silence, Adam thought. What he originally thought was Joe’s sullenness had really just been shyness after all.

Their saddle horses were left hobbled near their camp; they each would ride a cattle horse for working the herd and lead another as a remount.

Adam could find no fault with the horses Joe had chosen. All four cattle horses were “Charlie-broke” as Joe put it; selected and carefully trained to work cattle nearly independently of their riders. All four cowponies were compact, smaller than horses that satisfied Adam’s taste, but quick and alert, eager to work. Joe saddled a feisty dun he called Dusty for himself, and nodded at the little sorrel named Red for Adam. Adam accepted Joe’s choice without comment.

He had forgotten the beauty of a Sierra sunrise, and he paused in mounting his horse to let his eye fill with sky and mountains and woods and meadow. There was a remembered joy in the feel of a responsive horse and in breathing in the smell of pine and mountain air and dust and distant lakeshore that was found in no other place on earth.

Joe waited for him, patient for once; the look on his face was a kind of ‘I told-you-so’ smugness. Joe figured Adam would come to a moment like this—how could he help it?—and it underscored the brother-ness that was creeping back into his memories of Adam.

When they rode toward the trailhead, there was easiness between them that had not been there before. Now we are ready to work together, Adam thought, instead of against each other.

**********

The Diamond C herd wasn’t hard to find—the heavy pall of dust and the sounds of several hundred head of cattle marked their location long before the herd could actually be seen. Judging from the remains of the camp, Adam thought, the crew was well into their day’s work.

A man in his fifties, eyes squinting against the sunrise, looked up from his tally book as they approached, watching them until they were a few yards away. He pocketed the notebook and spit expertly across his horse’s shoulder.

“You’re the oldest Cartwright boy, ain’t you? Adam, ain’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Adam replied, reaching across to take the offered hand. “I remember you, too, Mr. Carver. And you probably remember my brother Joe.”

Carver winked at Joe. “Hey there, Little Joe, ain’t seen you since the last roundup. You helped your other brother that day. You picked a good hand to help you out, Adam. You ready to work Joe?”

“Yes, sir!” Joe said, straightening a little in the saddle.

He had felt Adam’s disbelief, or maybe just plain exasperation each time he mentioned how he had worked with strays before. Adam hadn’t seemed to respect his experience as a cowhand, and it felt good to have someone like Matthew Carver confirm it.

It was Adam’s turn to catch a wink from Matthew Carver. “Hear tell you are fresh back from college.”

Adam smiled. As remote as Matthew Carver’s ranch was, he was well aware of the comings and goings of his neighbors.

“Yes, sir. Graduated in May.”

“Harvard, was it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sent my son to Yale. It’s amazin’ how ignorant I was his first year. And how much smarter I’ve gotten since he’s finished school,” Carver winked at Adam again. “He’s in Ireland now, racing horses.”

“Is he a jockey?” Joe asked, fascinated. Before Carver could answer, two or three horseman made their way towards them, quietly skirting the nervous herd.

“Well, look what we have here, boys!”

Carver turned, annoyed at the loud voice. “Riley, you dad-blamed ignoramus, keep your voice down!”

Adam turned, eyes widening. Homer Riley was sitting on a well-muscled bay, several yards away, between the cook’s wagon and the herd.

“What’s Riley doin’ here?” Joe hissed under his breath as he carefully maneuvered his horse behind Adam’s. Joe wasn’t risking his horse again near the likes of Homer Riley.

“Well, Adam?”

Adam realized Carver was speaking to him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Carver, I didn’t catch that last part of what you said,” Adam said, and he could feel his face flush. Whether it was embarrassment at not paying attention, or annoyance at running into Riley again, he wasn’t sure.

“I said I ain’t letting you into my herd, skittish as they are,” Carver said. He was well within his rights, Adam knew. “Only my top hands go into the herd to cut out the strays. Too much chance of a stampede.”

“Your crew cuts out the strays,” Adam agreed. “Joe and I will hold the cut.”

“I see you’ve met my new foreman,” Carver continued, following Adam’s gaze.

“New foreman? Riley?” Joe squeaked.

“Yes, we’ve met.” Adam lowered his eyebrows at Joe, hoping to quell any further comments. “He recently worked for us on the Ponderosa.”

“Oh he did, did he? He didn’t mention that to me. He did say he worked for the Olive outfit in Texas, and rode herd for the Bar 7.”

“Yes, he mentioned that to us, also,” was all Adam said.

Carver had noticed the look Adam gave Joe, however, and narrowed his eyes in thought. He wondered why a top hand on the Ponderosa would give it up and take a job, even a foreman’s job, with a small outfit like his. Drawing his own conclusions, he looked over at Riley.

Riley wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, but he saw Carver look at him, and he made some guesses as to what Adam might be saying.

“Don’t listen to a word he says, Mr. Carver,” Riley said, riding closer. “Them Cartwrights have it in for me! I swear they do! Whatever he’s tellin’ you, there ain’t a lick of truth to it!”

“You mean you didn’t work for the Olive in Texas, nor the Bar 7 neither?” Carver asked, cocking his head at Riley. Adam saw the gleam in his eye, and relaxed to watch Carver handle Riley.

“Well, yeah, I did, just like I told you,” Riley began.

“That’s what Adam Cartwright said, too. Is there somethin’ else he should have told me? Somethin’ about when you worked for him, and why you don’t work for him no more?”

Riley clamped his mouth shut. “No, sir.”

Carver nodded. “I thought not. Adam, you ’n Joe leave your spare horses with my wrangler. Gandy, you and Harry will cut out the Ponderosa strays. Riley, show the Cartwrights where you want them to hold the cut, and let’s get their cattle back where they belong.”

“Yes, sir.” Riley waited until Carver had moved away toward the herd, then turned his glare on Adam and Joe. “This way,” he growled.

**********

Trail courtesy required that they wait while Carver sent his own men amongst the herd to cut out any cattle with the Ponderosa brand. The best cow hands could make it look easy, moving quietly among the cattle, finding an animal with Ponderosa brand, and cutting just that one animal to the edge of the herd without disturbing the cattle surrounding them. Once an animal was separated from the herd, it would be Adam and Joe’s job to keep it from returning.

The first strays cut from the herd would be the hardest to hold. It would take all the craftiness of the ‘Charlie-broke’ horses and every ounce of horsemanship Adam and Joe had to hold those first cattle, whose every instinct compels them to rejoin the safety of the main herd. Fast riding and maneuvering would be needed to keep the strays together. Once there were enough stray cattle accumulated to make them feel like they were in the safety of a herd again, there was less likelihood of a rush back to the main herd and it would be easier to hold them.

“You and the kid come with me,” Riley growled, his neck and backbone stiff with resentment. “That is, if you and your little puppy think you can handle what we send you, college-boy.”

“We can handle it, and I ain’t no puppy!” Joe said. “I been holdin’ the cut since I was nine years old!”

Adam bit the inside of his lip and groaned inwardly. He understood better today the pride behind his little brother’s statement. But why did you have to say that just now, Joe? He thought.

Adam heard the laughter of the nearby hands, and Homer Riley’s braying voice made several ponies toss their heads. Joe sat as straight in the saddle as he could. Adam spoke up before Riley had a chance to make a further remark to Joe.

“Lead on, Mr. Foreman,” Adam said, contempt coloring his words.

Riley spat, and then led them toward a rough area on the southern edge of the herd. He stopped suddenly, in front of the trunk of a downed cottonwood tree, surrounded by scrubby brush and flanked by a steep canyon wall. Adam began to ride past him, but Riley reached out and grabbed Adam’s arm.

“Here,” Riley said. “You and baby Cartwright can hold the cut here.”

“This ain’t no decent place to hold…” Joe began with the indignant voice of the unjustly used. Adam shook his head at him, and Joe subsided. Adam’s heart leaped.

It was back, the big-brother power to make the kid understand with a look, the merest shake of his head. The years fell away and it was just like before he left home—his little brother looking to him for answers that he knew he had.

“They’re testing us, Joe.” Adam leaned close and kept his voice low. “Riley’s going to make this as difficult as possible. We have two choices: we can put up with it, take what ever they send our way, no matter how hard he makes it. Or we can tell ’em we can’t handle it and go home.”

Joe looked around at the Diamond C grins and knew what they meant. They expected them to complain, or worse yet, give up.

“We ain’t goin’ home, Adam!” Joe said, matching his low tone. Adam’s chest filled with a surge of pride in his little brother, and he winked back at him.

“Riley, my brother and I will be happy to hold the cut here. But are you sure you can’t find a more unsuitable place—the middle of the river, perhaps?”

Joe’s head surged up and he hollered agreement. “Yeah, Riley! We can hold the cut anywhere!”  Joe’s bravado almost changed Adam’s mind. Was he letting his pride lead him and his little brother away from common sense? He brushed those thoughts away when he looked at Joe’s eager face.

“You’d better hold ’em, ’cause we won’t have time to wipe no baby noses or wait for no college boy to read up on workin’ cattle!” Riley said.

“You use the term ‘we’ loosely, I take it?” Adam said, in a cool tone. “I noticed that Mr. Carver was careful not to send you into the herd to make the cut.”

Another grin from Joe, wider this time.

“Shut up!” Riley was losing his temper; Adam decided to make sure of it.

“He obviously recognizes an inferior horseman when he sees one—”

“Adam!” Joe looked shocked at his brother so openly insulting Riley’s Texas pride.

“You’d better shut up, I said!” Riley leaned toward Adam and swung at him very inaccurately, nearly falling from the saddle as his horse stepped uneasily sideways. For a moment it looked like he would fall, then he balanced himself and straightened. Not without hearing the snickers of his new crew behind him, however.

Adam saw Joe’s shocked look turn to satisfaction, and abandoned all caution at the chance to earn more of his brother’s admiration. “It’s a good thing you aren’t making the cut—a move like that would have started a stampede. Is that how they ride in Texas?”

Riley gave a strangled cry and lunged again, and this time he was close enough to push Adam backwards. His momentum pulled both of them from their saddles, and Adam’s breath left him with a hard grunt as Riley’s weight landed on top of him. He heard Joe’s excited shouting as he received a glancing blow from a fist to his jaw.

“What the hell is going on here?” Carver kept his voice low, but managed to convey his anger. “Are you tryin’ to scatter that herd to kingdom come?”

Adam felt strong hands grab his collar and shoulder, while other hands hauled the weight off his chest. “Cartwright, you will keep your mouth shut and get ready to hold those strays! Harry, get Riley out of here!”

Adam felt his face flush yet again, being chastised like a schoolboy. Joe, however, was enjoying every minute of seeing his sophisticated brother provoke a schoolyard fight.

Carver pushed Adam towards his horse, muttering something like “damn fool kids” and “oughta know better than to start a ruckus in the middle of a roundup.” Joe’s grin grew wider.

“You shut up!” Adam growled at his brother.

“I didn’t say anything!” Joe said, unsuccessfully holding back his laughter.

**********

Adam mounted his horse and looked over the area Riley had designated. Joe was right, he thought, this is no place to hold cattle. They would have their hands full trying to keep the unhappy beasts out of the brush, and the canyon wall gave them very little room to maneuver. Their horses would be risking broken legs if they were forced to dodge around the downed tree to prevent the strays from rejoining the herd. If he hadn’t goaded Riley, he might have reasoned with him to choose a different place—on second thought, he doubted that Riley would ever be reasonable.

“Joe, you take this side, try to use the tree and wall as a base, try to keep the cattle in between the tree and the herd. I’ll hold the far side, close to the herd. If any break away from you, I’ll drive ’em back. Once we get a couple dozen or so, they should calm each other down enough for us to relax a bit.”

Joe rolled his eyes to let his brother know how unnecessary this advice was. He adjusted his rope for the third time, loosening it to make sure it was handy. Although he had done this type of chore before, he wanted to do well in front of his brother. He could feel his pony quiver against his legs, could feel the readiness of the little horse as they waited for the first of the cattle. His own body twitched in anticipation, and he shifted his weight as his pony stepped forward without a command.

**********

Riley, sitting atop his tall Texas bay, snapped an order to one of the nearby hands. Quietly, the man turned his horse and threaded his way into the herd and began to work a docile steer toward the edge of the herd.

“No, Gandy. Bring out that brindle cow!” Riley yelled.

The hand stopped, looking back in disbelief. The usual practice was to start with a calm animal, saving the more skittish ’til last when the stray herd was larger. “Hadn’t I better start with something quieter…”

“Bring out that brindle cow!” Riley repeated, and pointed toward the main body of the herd. Several of the hands were looking bewildered, but a few sly grins appeared. Riley was going to make the stray cut as difficult as possible for the Cartwrights by bringing out the most skittish animals first.

Gandy shook his head in disgust, but left the steer and threaded his way towards the brindle cow Riley had indicated. The cow tossed her head and circled away, stirring up the animals around her.

Gandy expertly worked the reluctant cow to the edge of the herd, but once there, he had difficulty separating her from the others. She wanted back into the herd, and her twisty ways and bellowing displeasure widened the grins of the watching hands. But Gandy and his cutting horse were patient, working back and forth, and finally edged her away from the herd. Riley sent another hand into the herd to cut another stray, as Gandy dodged back and forth with the cow. Joe came to meet them and took over from Gandy, waving his coiled rope, letting his pony force the cow toward the brushy holding area.

Adam watched as Joe swayed expertly with his horse’s rapid motions, keeping an easy seat. He paused briefly to appreciate the rapport between the skilled pony and the athletic young boy, but there was no more time to watch as a nervous steer was driven his way.

Adam met the steer as it tried to turn back and let his horse push the steer away with a twist of its hindquarters. Ruefully, he realized his horse was far more skilled than he was, and he gave the sorrel his head. Joe was zigzagging back and forth in front of the brindle cow, perfectly balanced, moving gracefully with dodging of the pony. Back and forth, Joe’s pony worked the brindle cow, then capered sideways to help head off Adam’s steer. Adam saw Joe lean and swipe his rope across the steer's face, and he knew his brother had the two animals under control. He turned to meet the next steer, and heard the Diamond C hands whoop in encouragement. Are they cheering for us or for the cattle? He wondered.

Time seemed to speed up as Joe and Adam moved quicker and quicker, keeping their horses between the stray cattle and the rest of the herd. More than once Joe held them in position only because his horse headed them off by leaping dangerously over the downed tree.

“You’re losin’ that one, Cartwright,” someone called with wicked smugness, and Adam spun his horse around.

“Not if I can help it,” Adam muttered and he raced after the escapee. As he leaned low out of the saddle, he realized he had never ridden so hard or so well in his life; he had never felt so alert, so aware of his surroundings, so in tune with his horse. He knew that Joe would turn his own horse just so, knew that Red needed only a slight pressure to be shown which animal to chase, knew that Joe could hold the growing stray herd while he met the next stray driven toward the cut. He turned the escaped steer a few yards from the main herd, and the admiring cheers from the idle cowhands filled his ears.

Joe raced past Adam, his horse’s rear quarters swinging around as he change direction, leaning far out of the saddle to “encourage” a steer with his hat. Adam’s heart leaped into his mouth as Joe headed fearlessly straight at the steer; at the last minute the steer gave in and turned, narrowly avoiding a collision with Joe’s horse.

“Joe!” Adam yelled, no longer worrying about what the other hands thought. “Be careful!”

Joe merely grinned and jumped his horse over the tree trunk again.

**********

When there were twenty-five or so strays near the tree, the cattle finally showed signs of settling down. Surprisingly, the brindle cow that was so reluctant to leave the main herd took her place as the leader of the strays. She stood guard with the ancient instinct of a protector of the herd and her presence helped calm the others.

The gleeful Diamond C hands, seeing no more sport, went back to working the main herd. One or two of them tipped their hats in respect as they passed by Adam and Joe; several of them were laughing at the joke of sending the roughest strays out first to the stray cut, but all of them were friendly. The contempt seen earlier vanished with the unexpected success of the Cartwright brothers.

Joe stopped his blowing horse next to Adam and hooked his leg around the saddle horn, the need for frantic riding gone. Adam eyed his little brother.

“Does Pa know you ride like that?” Adam said.

Joe glanced at his brother from under his hat brim. “Pa knows I can ride.”

“More like flying than riding.”

 

Joe’s grin was unrepentant. “Dusty’s a good horse. He’ll make a hell—heckuva all-round cow horse with just a little more rope work.”

Adam had to grin back. “Watch your language! Just keep his feet on the ground and your backside in the saddle, little brother.” He leaned back in the saddle, stretching his own backside. I’m going to be very sore tomorrow, he thought.

“I guess we showed them,” Joe nearly crowed with delight. “Wait’ll I tell Hoss! We held the cut of the worst, most ornery bunch of strays known to man! They didn’t think we could do it. But they didn’t know that you and I been doing this since we was little kids!”

Somehow, a ten-year-old boy reminiscing about when he was a kid didn’t seem so incongruous anymore. Adam basked in his brother’s admiration; let it spill over him like sweet warm sunshine.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “after all, you’ve been holdin’ the cut since you were nine years old.”

Joe’s uncomplicated giggle was everything he could have wished for.

**********

Seeing that their small herd was calm enough for Joe to hold it alone for few minutes, Adam rode towards Matthew Caver to take his leave. The Diamond C hands had held the main herd together and kept them moving, and the main herd was now quite some distance from the stray cut. He had just reached the older man when he heard Riley call out behind him.

“Hey Cartwright! You forgot one!” Riley was maneuvering a young bull toward the cut. There was something wrong with this bull, though—he tossed his head, pawing and bellowing, far more disturbed, more fearful, than any of the other strays had been. Riley leaned down as if pushing the bull’s flank with his hand, and Adam saw the gleam of a knife as the bull bawled and bolted away from its tormentor. The bull turned so fast Adam could barely turn his head fast enough to follow his progress.

One minute he was moving toward the stray herd, the next instant he was charging back through the brush toward the main herd. Directly toward where Joe was holding the cut.

There was a streak of red on the bull’s flank; Adam noted it as he desperately spurred his horse in its wake. He wasn’t going to be fast enough. Joe’s head was turned away; Riley was hollering something to him and keeping Joe’s attention. There was something not right about that, too, but Adam had no time to think anything through. Joe wasn’t going to see the ornery longhorn until it was too late to dodge, and Adam was going to have to watch his brother and his horse take the charge of a pain-maddened longhorn bull.

For some reason, at the last second, Joe did look up, and a split second later he was turning his pony. The tired little horse managed to hop a step or two, but the bull’s horn grazed Dusty just behind the cinch as he slammed into the pony’s side, the weight of his charge nearly pushing he horse off his feet. The bull tossed his head then, in a wicked, twisting motion, and Joe’s horse screamed, kicking out and bucking in desperation. Joe kept his seat, gripping the saddle horn to stay on the pony’s back. The bull tossed its head again; this time the opposite direction, and the horse went down, abruptly sitting back on its haunches before falling heavily on its side. Joe stuck with him; Adam glimpsed his little brother’s pale face as he and his horse fell. Then the bull was on them, bellowing and pawing, goring the downed pony again.

Joe lay on his left side, leg trapped under the screaming, thrashing horse, pushing with his right boot against the saddle in a futile attempt to free himself. Adam heard the shouts of the drovers and pounding hooves; none of them were as close as he, and there was only one thing he could do from this distance.

He yanked hard on the reins, gripping with his knees and pushing his seat back; Red practically came back over on him in surprise, but righted himself and stopped, trembling, but still. He had the rifle out of its scabbard as another shrill scream came from the downed pony; he heard his brother’s voice scream out now too, and tried to block it out. He had to make this shot—he had to.

The bull pawed the dirt, readying itself to charge again. Adam exhaled carefully, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot startled the nearby cattle, scattering some of the strays, but the drovers were near now and were riding to hold the herd steady with a quick tightening of the perimeter. Adam threw his weight forward, shouting, and his horse responded with a spurt of speed. There was another scream from the pony; Adam could no longer see through the dust as he frantically spurred his horse toward his brother.

“Joe!” He wasn’t the only one shouting his brother’s name. Carver galloped toward them from the head of the main herd, Riley from the near side. Adam’s boot hit the ground before his own pony skidded to a stop.

The bull was dead, its head next to the frantic rear hooves of the downed pony. The pony continued to scream and thrash about, and Adam leveled the rifle again, this time at Dusty, but the horse suddenly struggled up and off Joe and stood, quivering and blowing, blood pouring down its heaving side.

Up and off, but Joe’s boot was twisted through the stirrup and when the pony took a halting step, Adam heard his brother’s cry, high-pitched and scared, as the pony threatened to bolt away, dragging Joe along with it. The boy’s leg was nearly straight up, his shoulders and head still on ground, the nervous hooves threatening to trample him.

But Riley was there, finally where he should be, grabbing the pony’s bridle and holding him still. Adam dropped the rifle and ran to Joe, reaching along the pony’s belly to loosen the cinch, grabbing the saddle from the horse’s back, easing it down next to his brother’s outstretched leg.

“Joe!” Adam reached down to the boot tangled in the stirrup. Joe’s foot was twisted nearly backwards, the leg obviously broken.

“Joe, easy, don’t move! Stay still, please, stay still, little brother, stay still!” Adam’s pleading voice sounded far away and strained, not his own at all.

Joe pushed himself up on his elbows, looked at his leg, still stuck through the stirrup, and his eyes rolled up white. Before Adam could grab him, he fell backwards with a small sigh, head rolling away.

Carver was beside him suddenly; talking in a low steady voice, the voice he used on night guard to calm spooky cattle, the voice he used when saddling a nervous filly, the voice he used now to calm a frantic boy who just saw his young brother seriously hurt.

“Easy, easy, boy, let’s get him untangled while he’s out, poor boy, poor boy! Gandy! Get over here and give me a hand! Cartwright, let go now, we’ve got him, let go, that’s it, ease him back. Take that saddle out, Bill. Gandy, grab a bedroll, we’ll sling the kid on a blanket to move him.”

Adam heard Carver’s voice through a roar in his ears, and the edge of his vision darkened for a moment. He looked up at the sky, the same sky that he and Joe had admired just this morning, trying to see anything but the bleeding pony and his brother’s twisted body lying so still. He could hear the others around him, he felt them moving, stepping around him, saw two of them lifting something, moving away from him, and the roaring eased away, other sounds gradually seeping into his awareness; the sound of nervous cattle, whistles and calls of the drovers, the harsh wheeze of the wounded pony. He pushed himself shakily to his feet, picked up his rifle and followed two hands as they carried Joe away from the dead bull. In a few minutes a makeshift camp was established near the canyon wall, away from the dust of the herd. Joe was settled on more blankets as Matthew Carver snapped out orders.

“Harry, get Cooky over here with that chuck wagon! And scout up something to splint this boy’s leg. You all right, Cartwright? ’Cause if you’re feeling peaked, we ain’t got time to pick you up; this boy needs help right now.”

But at the mention of his brother needing help, Adam’s head cleared. “He’s broken his leg,” he said unnecessarily.

“That’s right, that’s right, and we’re going to help him, but you let us do it, you hear? Cooky has seen a sight more broken legs than you ever have. He’ll have your little brother a lot more comfortable in a minute. If he ever gets here!” the last part was shouted at the approaching wagon.

“I’m comin’; keep your shirt on. It ain’t easy comin’ through them spooked cattle.”

This statement had the effect he knew it would have when he uttered it.

“Gandy! You and Harry get back and lend a hand settling those cattle down. Riley, you’d better hold what’s left of that stray cut if you know what’s good for you! I’ll deal with you later, but those Ponderosa strays better be where their s’posed to be, or I’ll stake your worthless hide out and leave it for the coyotes!”

That confirmed it; even Carver had seen that the bull had been unnaturally “encouraged” to meanness. Adam remembered the slashes and blood on its flank, the knife in Riley’s hand as he chased the bull. His eyes narrowed, and anger tightened his fist around the rifle he had forgotten he was holding. He glanced over at the dead bull, then at Riley. Riley’s eyes darted back and forth, as if he was deciding whether to hold his post or make a run for it.

“Cartwright! Get over here; hold your brother down while Cooky gets this splint on him. Quick, we ain’t got much longer and he’ll be comin’ around.”

Adam’s eyes widened and he turned back to Joe. You’ll have to wait, Riley, he thought, but I’ll be dealing with you soon.

Cooky, a man of indeterminate age, wore a dirty shirt and vest, but what Adam could see of his wagon was as neat and clean as Hop Sing’s kitchen. He turned from the tailgate, bandages in one hand and a small wooden case in the other. He set the items down on the blanket, bent over the small body on the ground, and began cutting away the boy’s pant leg.

“Gonna have to cut it off,” he murmured to himself, and then glanced up at Adam. He saw Adam’s face grow paler, and hastily added “his boot, boy, his boot, gonna have to cut his boot off.”

Adam nodded, letting out a breath in relief. He leaned the rifle against a rock and knelt next to the still, small figure laid out on the blankets. Joe was still unconscious, and Cooky began to slice his boot with a sharp knife. Carver held Joe’s leg steady as Cooky separated the boot gently from the boy’s foot. Adam looked away; the sight of the twisted, discolored leg nauseated him. He concentrated on Joe’s face, brushing a bit of dirt from his cheek. His hand shook as he did so, and he found he was biting the inside of his cheek.

“Easy, Cooky, easy, that’s got it. Cartwright, we’re gonna have to set this leg, at least straighten it a little to splint it, you know that don’t you? Can’t think about movin’ him home without makin’ that leg as still as we can. Cooky and I can do it, but we gotta do it right now.”

“Adam!” Joe’s fearful voice interrupted them, and Carver cursed. The boy had come around too soon. “Adam, what happened?”

“See if you can settle him down, boy,” Cooky said softly.

Adam nodded. Another familiar habit, comforting his younger brothers’ hurts, had him stroking the boy’s head gently. “It’s all right, Joe; your horse fell with you. Looks like you hurt your leg, but we’re going to fix it up real quick.”

“Is Dusty all right? He was hurt, but is he all right?” Joe sat up frantically, and then abruptly fell back. “Adam…” his voice was distressed.

“Look out, he’s gonna…” Cooky said.

Adam reached over, helped Joe turn to the side as he vomited, holding his shoulders as the tremors ran through the small body. The boy’s thin shoulders shook and wrenched forward, again and again. Adam could only hold him steady, waiting for the nausea to pass. The sounds of cattle, whistles and low-voice orders, and the frantic squealing of Joe’s horse faded from his ears as his little brother’s distressed voice moaned “Adam…”

“It’s okay, Joe, I’m here. I’ll help you, just lay back down, keep still, it’s okay.” Adam barely knew what he said; he just kept up a steady stream of what he hoped were comforting words.

Someone threw a shovelful of sand over the vomit and cleared it away while Carver slid the boy and the blankets away from the small mess. Cooky turned back to work on Joe’s leg.

“My horse, Adam. where’s my horse—what are you doing?” This last louder and indicating a painful, sudden awareness of his leg being manipulated.

“Shh, Joe, Cooky’s gonna help fix your leg so we can splint it for you, hold still, that’s a boy, your horse is fine, just hold still…” and it did seem that Joe was listening to him, gripping his hand and crying, whimpering “it hurts, it hurts” until Adam felt his heart contracting at the sound of his brother’s voice. Oh God, I can’t stand this, he thought, he’s just a little boy, it would be easier if it had happened to me, I can’t watch this—“easy Joe” —when is he going to be finished—“Just a little while longer, Joe, hold on to me here, almost done.” He heard a grinding sound and his brother screamed, close against his chest, then a sudden silence as Joe went limp in his arms.

Cooky grabbed his arm, swinging his attention away from Joe’s face. “It’s a bad break,” he said in a low voice. “He needs a doctor; we did our best to splint it, but it needs to be set proper.”

Adam nodded; he had seen the twisted limb, the bone protruding through the skin, the bleeding wound. His stomach churned with the thought that his ten-year-old brother might lose his leg, and he had to swallow hard before he was sick himself.

He gently laid Joe’s head down and got to his feet. He helped several other hands clear a space in the back of the wagon, lifting out the fitted cabinet and its contents with a clatter of cast iron. Carver pushed and prodded the crew away from the cook’s tools and supplies.

“You be careful with that, you ham-fisted son of a cattle-thief! You keep your hands offen that biscuit dough, or I’ll have your hide! Cartwright, you’ll have to ride back here to hold the kid steady; Cooky’ll drive the team. Can’t spare no one else.”

Adam merely nodded. There was only one place he was going to be, and that was with his brother. Cooky leaned over Joe, encouraging him to drink something.

“What is that?” Adam said, reaching to stop the cook’s hand.

“A dose of laudanum. It’ll help with the pain, and with any luck he’ll sleep all the way home.”

Adam let his hand drop to Joe’s shoulder, and he eased the boy’s head up to help him drink the medicine. Joe was bewildered, scared, but he let Adam convince him to drink. Cooky went back to the wagon; Adam brushed his thumb across the tears and scratches on Joe’s cheek. “Rest, Joe, we’ll be home before you know it.”

“Don’t tell Pa I cried and threw up, or Hoss either,” Joe said, grabbing Adam’s shirt in his fist. “They won’t let me work if I’m a crybaby.”

“Joe…” Adam began.

“No, please Adam,” Joe said, his eyes drooping, but his fist tightening.

“Okay, Joe, don’t worry,” Adam said. “I won’t say anything if you don’t tell them I nearly threw up, too.”

“Really?” Joe’s eyes snapped open wider. He studied his brother for a moment. “I won’t tell,” he said solemnly.

“Thanks, buddy.” Adam smiled down at him. “Now rest.” He stood and looked toward the wagon. Carver came towards him.

“Tell your Pa I’m real sorry about what happened, and I’ll see that those strays get back to Ponderosa land. And boy…” he waited until he had Adam’s complete attention.

“That Riley,” Carver spat into the brush. “I’ll take care that he don’t ever have a chance to work in Nevada Territory agin. But you leave him be. It’s a bad trick he pulled, but you leave him to me. He was on my crew, and I’ll be the one to make his faults known to him. I’ll try to stop by on my way back to the ranch, see how the little one’s doin’.” Carver’s face softened. “He’s a tough kid, your little brother. A good hand. You tell him I said so.”

“Yes, sir.” Adam’s voice wavered. “I’ll tell him. But I won’t make any guarantees about leaving Riley to you.”

“You think on what I said.” Carver spat again. “He won’t be gettin’ away with this.”

Adam climbed into the back of the wagon, reaching out to steady Joe as two hands gently lifted him in beside Adam.

“Mr. Carver?”

“Yeah, boy?”

“Would you—I’d appreciate it you would try to spare my brother’s horse. He—well, he’s very proud of that horse, and if he can be saved, I’d like you to try. I’ll send someone out as soon as I can to pick up our horses and our gear.”

“I’ll hold the herd here until your man comes,” Carver agreed. “We’ve got to try to settle them cattle down anyway. And I’ll see what can be done with the horse. You’d best get that boy home.”

**********

The trip home was a sort of hell for Adam, feeling the urgency to move, do something, but not being able to do anything but hold his little brother in the back wagon. Adam didn’t remember much of the trip when he thought about it later, but he did remember the feeling of helplessness, watching Joe bite through his bottom lip to keep from crying out in pain. He huddled in the back, his own body curled around Joe’s in an effort to cushion the smaller body from any jarring or jolting. Only later would he appreciate Cooky’s skill with the team, keeping the wagon as steady as possible while setting a good pace. The laudanum had some effect; Joe was dozing, not really asleep, but not awake either, moaning for his pa.

Luck was with them; they met two Ponderosa hands on the way, and sent one for the doctor, the other to the house to warn his family they were coming. Just disjointed images would remain in his memory; Hoss riding out to meet them on a lathered horse, his father and two hands not far behind. Cooky did the talking; Adam turned his brother’s care over to his father, trading places with him with a shameful sigh of relief. Hoss left off further questions, merely sending the two hands on to the Diamond C to help with the strays and Adam’s and Joe’s horses. Adam gave his large little brother a grateful look as he mounted his father’s horse, and they all headed back home.

**********

Ben came back downstairs a short while after Doc Martin left. He poured himself a brandy, and set another on the table in front of Adam.  “Hoss is sitting with him. Doc set the leg—it’s a bad break, but barring any infection, he thinks it will heal well.”

He looked at his oldest son and noted the lines of fatigue, the bowed head, and the dirty hands clasped before him. Ben’s heart ached for his son. He needed to address this now. “I think you’ve had a hard lesson, today, Adam,” he began.

Adam shook his head. “I didn’t keep him safe; I know that, but…”

“That’s not what I meant,” his father interrupted softly. “Sometimes there is nothing you can do to protect someone, to stop them from getting hurt. All you can do is to help them get through it, to hold their trust enough for them to let you help—that is the bigger responsibility. That is what you did for Joe, son, and he knows it as well as I do. You’re the only one who doubts it.”

Adam wiped his hand over his face. “He trusted me, all right,” he said bitterly. “He trusted me when I told him we couldn’t back down; we had to take whatever Riley would throw at us. He trusted me when I told him the two of us could hold the cut no matter how ornery the cattle, no matter how poor the location. Joe was right to mistrust me when I came home; I won him over to what turned out to be a false trust that put my pride before his safety.”

“Adam…”

“He’s just a little boy, for all his bravado and skill with horses!” Adam stood and began to pace. “Pa, he could have been killed, or lost his leg!”

“And if that had happened, it still would not have been your fault!” Ben’s voice hammered back. “It was an accident, helped along by that petty fool Riley! If anyone was responsible, it was I, for exposing the boy to bullies like Riley in the first place. But I’ve learned, since the first time you were injured working the ranch, that I cannot keep you boys safe at home, I have to send you out, I have to let you try things, improve your skills, learn. Sometimes there are risks that have to be accepted.”

Adam didn’t reply.

“Adam.”

Adam looked away.

“Adam. Son.” Ben reached a hand out and touched his son’s shoulder. “You saved his life by killing that bull. You got to him as quickly as you could. You helped him deal with the pain; you brought him home. Hoss even thinks you might’ve even saved Joe’s horse, with your quick action.”

Adam’s mouth quirked up a little at this. “Joe’ll be happy to hear that. It’s all I could do to keep him in the wagon; he kept wanting to know how his horse was.”

He looked into his father’s brown eyes; his chest felt heavy and tight and he needed something more from his father, but he wasn’t sure what.

“It’s ironic, Pa,” he whispered at last. “Joe told me he couldn’t remember me much from before I went to school, and I found I couldn’t forget him—the Joe I knew four years ago.”

He wiped his eyes. “I kept telling Joe he was a kid, but I felt like a child myself when he got hurt. I wanted so much for you to come and take over, to let him not be my responsibility anymore. I wanted my Pa as much as Joe did. I couldn’t help him, I wasn’t what he needed, who he needed…”

“Adam,” Ben interrupted. “You did help your brother. You were there; he knows that. You did a fine job for him. Your quick action saved his life, and I couldn’t be more proud of your care of him than I am for any of your other accomplishments. You did fine, and you brought him home.”

“But if I hadn’t fired Riley…”

“Sooner or later, Riley would’ve caused some kind of trouble that showed his true colors. If you hadn’t fired him when you did, something worse might have happened, have you considered that? You can’t keep punishing yourself. You did the best anyone could do. That’s all you need to think on.”

Maybe it was sheer repetition, but Adam finally started to believe that his father really did think he helped Joe. “Can I see him?”

“He’s asleep, probably will be for a long time yet. Doc Martin gave him something before he set his leg.”

“I know, I just...I’d just like to sit with him for a while. He looked so—on the way back, he was so—I just need to sit with him, if that’s all right with you, Pa.”

It was a need Ben recognized—a paternal need to know that the child was all right.

“Of course. But only for a while; you’ve had a long, hard day, and I expect you to get to bed when I come up.”

“Yes sir.”

Adam paused on the stairs and smiled at his father. “He was right about that horse, you know.”

 

“What do you mean?”

“Dusty. That’s the best cattle horse I’ve ever seen. If Riley hadn’t called his attention away, the pony would’ve jumped out of the way. I never saw a horse turn so fast. And Joe would never have been unseated if the horse hadn’t gone down. He’s quite a rider, Pa.”

“Well,” said Ben, with a distinct twinkle in his eye. “He has been holdin’ the cut since he was nine years old!”

Epilogue

Adam walked down the hall towards Joe’s room, carrying his lunch tray. Joe’s door was slightly ajar, and he heard his father’s voice, sleepily answered by his little brother.

“You had quite a day yesterday,” his father was saying, in that tender way he had when they were sick or laid up.

“Yes, sir, I did,” Joe replied, sounding a little more like his usual bouncy self. “So much happened I can hardly think on it all.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Pa replied.

Curious, Adam paused outside the bedroom door to listen. Undoubtedly the first thing Joe told his father would be the thing he deemed the most important.

“Pa, Adam and me, we saw all kinds of animal signs, and deer and an eagle and a coyote—Adam says it takes a sharp eye to spot all them critters and their tracks. And Adam says I’m really good at it!”

“Adam says.” The phrase made heat rush to Adam’s cheeks. Of all the things Joe could have chosen to relate first, he chose to tell his father about the off-hand praise his older brother had bestowed early in the trip. No mention of Riley or the trick played on them, nothing about the difficulty they had in holding the stray cut, not the challenge of trying to do a task almost beyond their abilities. Not a word about breaking his leg or the nightmare ride home. Adam swallowed. He had not even thought much about the statement at the time he said it, but Joe remembered it—to Joe, it was the most important thing that had happened yesterday.

Adam lost track of his father’s replies to Joe’s drowsy chatter, and was startled into awareness when he suddenly felt a hand on his arm.

“All right, son?”  His father smiled, and there was something in his smile that told Adam he knew exactly what Adam was feeling this minute.

Adam balanced the tray on one arm and ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

“Joe’s just been telling me about the day you two had yesterday.”

“Yeah.”

Ben turned toward the stairs.

“Pa?”

“Yes, Adam?”

All the things that Adam wanted to say dried up under his father steady gaze. Finally he said, “He’s really something, isn’t he?”

Ben smiled that smile again, that knowing, I-know-how-you-feel smile. “Funny. He just said the same thing about you.”

*****End*****

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