Lost Son
“Hold the rein tighter, Joe!” shouted
Adam Cartwright from his perch atop the corral fence. “You’ll never keep her
head up that way!”
Joe Cartwright ignored his brother’s
advice as he eased himself onto the saddle of the horse being held tightly by
two other riders. The mare’s eyes were wide with fright, and her body quivered
when she felt the unfamiliar weight on the saddle.
“Shorten the rein,” called Adam again
as he watched his brother catch the stirrups of the saddle with his feet.
Joe continued to ignore his brother’s
shouts. He settled himself on the saddle and gripped tightly the rope which was
serving as a rein.
“Let her go,” he said the riders with
a brief nod.
The riders on either side of the
horse released their hold on the animal’s halter. Immediately, the mare began to
buck, trying to throw the weight from her back. Joe gripped the saddle tightly
with his legs
After two bucks in a standing the
position, the mare decided to try a new tactic to rid herself of the unwanted
burden. She started forward, taking a step, and then began bucking again. The
weight on her back stayed firmly attached. The mare began to run, throwing her
back legs into the air at every few steps, hoping that one of these bucks would
toss the weight from her back.
Joe quickly found the rhythm of the
mare’s bucking and began shifting his weight slightly in anticipation of each
move the horse was
The mare soon tired of the bucking
and gradually realized the weight on her back wasn’t going away. She gave a few
more kicks into the air but they were more of a feeble protest than bucks. Soon
she simply began to run around the corral. She felt the bit in her mouth pulling
her slightly to the right and followed the command reluctantly.
She ran toward the center of the
corral, and slowed when she saw another horse and rider approaching. The rider
grabbed the halter and the mare pulled herself to a stop.
Joe slid off the saddle and onto the
ground. He watched for a moment as the mare was led away, then turned to walk
toward the fence where Adam was sitting. Joe rotated his left shoulder slightly
as he approached the fence.
“Good ride, Joe,” said Hoss
Cartwright. Hoss was leaning against the fence post near the board on which his
older brother was sitting. Joe smiled briefly in acknowledgment.
“You should have kept the rein
shorter,” commented Adam from the fence. “That way she couldn’t have lowered her
head. She wouldn’t have jerked your arm as much, and she couldn’t have bucked so
hard.
Joe looked up at his brother. “I know
how to break a horse, Adam,” he said tersely.
“Just giving a little advice,”
replied Adam.
“Yeah, well, thanks for the advice,”
said Joe, “but I don’t need it. I know what I’m doing.”
Adam shrugged. “It’s your body. If
you want to be stiff and sore, that’s your decision. I was just trying to keep
you in one piece.”
Joe glared at Adam. “Look, Adam, I’ve
been breaking horses almost since I could walk. I know keeping the rein short
keeps a horse’s head up. But I also know if you keep it too tight, you can ruin
a horse. That mare had a real soft mouth. I didn’t want to take the chance on
ruining it.”
“Don’t you think it’s better to take
a chance on ruining the horse than getting yourself jerked around and maybe
thrown?” suggested Adam.
“No, I don’t,” replied Joe angrily.
“I’d rather give a horse a little more rein and try to stay with her.” Joe’s
eyes narrowed. “You know, Adam, sometimes if you can keep a rein too tight.
Then it doesn’t control a horse. It only makes the horse work harder to get a
little freedom.”
Adam looked back at Joe with a steady
gaze. “Some animals need a tight rein than others.”
Joe’s reply was cut short by a shout
from across the corral. Joe turned to look at the cowboy who called his name.
“What did you say?” shouted Joe.
“I said, do you want to try that
black?” yelled the cowboy. He was sitting on top of the fence on the other side
of the corral. Behind him, six or seven horses were milling around in a small
enclosure. The two riders sat on their horses in the middle of the corral,
watching expectantly.
“No, that’s enough for today,”
shouted Adam before Joe had a chance to answer.
Joe spun back to face his brother.
“Don’t you think that’s my decision?” said Joe angrily.
“Look, Joe,” said Adam in a
reasonable voice. “You’ve ridden six horses already today. There’s no sense in
overdoing things.”
“Joe, it’s getting on toward supper
time,” added Hoss hastily. “Why don’t we call it a day?”
Joe didn’t answer for a minute, but
his mood lightened at the sound of Hoss’ voice. Joe knew he was tired and
probably irritable as a result. Adam always seemed to know how to rub Joe the
wrong way,
Joe turned to Hoss. “How come you
always know when it’s time to eat?” he asked with a smile.
“Just a natural gift, I guess,”
replied Hoss with a grin. He glanced up at Adam. “You’ve a gift at breaking
horses, and I have a gift at knowing when it’s time to eat.”
Adam slid off the fence and stood
next to his brothers. “Dinner sounds like a good idea,” he said. Adam began
walking across the corral, shouting to the other men that their work was over
for the day.
Joe watched Adam, then shook his
head. “Just once I’d like to do something without him telling me how I’m doing
it wrong,” muttered Joe.
“Aw, Joe, he don’t mean anything by
it,” said Hoss in a conciliatory tone. “You know Adam. He’s just naturally got
to butt into things and tell people what to do.”
Joe gave Hoss a wry grin. “Yeah, I
know,” he said. “Guess that’s Adam’s gift. Being able to tell everyone else what
to do.”
Hoss laughed and clapped his brother
lightly on the back. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go eat.”
*************
Conversation around the dinner table
at the Ponderosa ranch house covered the usual topics of the day’s activities
and ranch chores. Joe had shaken off his earlier irritation at his brother Adam.
A good washing and a brief nap had restored his good humor by the time he had
come down for supper.
“Pa, I think I found three good
horses for Mr. Ferguson over in Twin Pines,” said Joe when there was a lull in
the conversation.
“Which three?” asked Adam curiously.
“The sorrel, the roan and that mare I
broke today,” replied Joe.
Adam cocked his head. “I don’t know
about that mare. She seemed kind of skittish. Ferguson wants some stock he can
count on for work around the ranch. I don’t know if that mare would be right for
that.”
Joe felt his irritation at his older
brother returning. “I rode the mare, Adam, not you,” he said in an annoyed
voice. “She needs a little work, but she’s a good animal.”
Ben Cartwright could see a dispute
starting to broil between his two sons. He decided to intervene before things
got out of hand. “Why don’t I take a look at those horses tomorrow?” he
suggested. “See if they’re what Ferguson is looking for.”
“Fine,” said Joe in a flat voice. He
looked at Adam. “I’m sure you’ll be surprised to find that I can actually judge
horses.”
“Hey, Joe, you want to play some
checkers after dinner?” asked Hoss, also trying to diffuse the tension around
the table.
A peculiar look flashed across Joe’s
face. He looked down at his plate for a minute as if trying to decide something.
Then he looked up at Hoss.
“No, I can’t,” said Joe with a shake
of his head. “I have to go out for a little while tonight.”
Joe shrugged. “Just something I have
to take care of.”
“Sounds kind of mysterious,”’ said
Adam, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah, Joe, what are you up to?”
asked Hoss.
Joe’s eyes flashed with irritation.
“That’s my business,” he said curtly to Hoss. Joe turned to Ben. “Is it all
right with you if I go out?” he asked.
Ben saw the challenging look on Joe’s
face. He decided now was not the time to ask his youngest son why he was going
out. After all, Joe was 22, no longer a child. He didn’t need to account to his
father for his every move, even though Ben’s curiosity was piqued. But Ben knew
now was not the time to press the issue with Joe.
“Of course,” replied Ben with a nod.
“Just be sure you’re home at a reasonable hour. We have a full day of work
tomorrow.”
Joe smiled briefly at Ben’s reminder.
His father had been giving him the same instructions for as long as he could
remember. “Don’t worry, “ Joe assured Ben. “I won’t be gone long.”
“Be careful,” said Ben, adding
another often repeated instruction.
“I will,” said Joe with a nod, barely
hearing the words said to him a hundred times. He wiped his mouth with his
napkin and threw the cloth on the table. “See you later, Pa,” he said, pointedly
ignoring his brothers.
Joe pushed back the chair from the
table and walked from the dining room. A minute later, the men around the table
heard the front door open and close.
“Where do you suppose he’s going?”
asked Hoss. “That’s the third night this week he’s been out.”
“Couldn’t be a girl,” commented Adam.
“He didn’t spend his usual hour primping like he generally does when he’s seeing
someone.”
“Now that’s enough, boys,” said Ben
in mild rebuke. “If Joe doesn’t want to tell us where he’s going, that’s his
business.”
“Yeah, but Pa, you have to admit he’s
acting kind of mysterious,” said Hoss.
“When Joe doesn’t want to talk about
what he’s doing, that usually means he’s up to something,” added Adam.
“Something that’s going to mean trouble.”
“We don’t know that,” said Ben. “He
could be doing something perfectly innocent.” But a concerned look crossed
Ben’s face, belying his words.
“Yeah, like what?” asked Hoss.
“I don’t know,” admitted Ben. The
frown of concern on his face deepened.
“Why don’t Hoss and I ride out after
him,” suggested Adam. “Just to see what he’s up to.”
Ben hesitated, then shook his head.
“No, I don’t think you should do that. Joe can look after himself.”
“Pa, you know Joe,” pressed Hoss. “He
gets involved in things and sometimes he gets in over his head.”
“We’ll stay way behind him,” promised
Adam. “He won’t even see us.”
“I don’t know, Adam,” said Ben, his
voice full of doubt. “I don’t like the idea of Joe thinking we’re checking up on
him.”
“Pa, we’re just going to make sure
Joe ain’t involved in something he can’t handle, that’s all,” said Hoss.
“It won’t hurt just to find out what
he’s up to,” said Adam. “We might be able to keep him from doing something he
would regret.”
“All right,” said Ben reluctantly.
“But I want your word that all you are going to do is follow him. I want you to
promise you won’t interfere in…in whatever he’s doing.”
“We won’t,” said Adam, pushing back
from the table. “We’re just going to make sure Joe doesn’t need protection.”
“Protection?” said Ben in surprise.
“From whom?”
“From himself,” replied Adam.
***************
Adam and Hoss were buckling on their
holsters as they crossed the yard from the house to the barn. Now that they had
decided to go after Joe, they both realized that trying to find their youngest
brother could be a challenge.
“Hey, Hank,” Adam called to one of
the hands as he and Hoss neared the barn. “Do you know which way Joe went when
he left?”
“Yeah, he was heading up to Rim Rock
Canyon,” replied the hand.
“How do you know that?” asked Hoss in
surprise.
“Because he told me,” snorted Hank.
“He just told you?” said Adam, his
surprise equal to Hoss’.
“Well, not exactly,” admitted Hank.
“I asked him if he was going near Virginia City ‘cause I needed some tobacco. He
said no, he was going to Rim Rock Canyon.” Hank looked at the two men curiously.
“Why do you want to know where Joe
went?”
“We, um, we just need to find him, “
said Adam vaguely. “Do us a favor and saddle our horses for us?”
Hank nodded briefly, and walked into
the barn.
“Rim Rock Canyon? What do you suppose
he’s doing up there?” asked Hoss.
“I don’t know,” said Adam with a
shake of his head. “But whatever our little brother is involved in, I don’t
think it’s planning a Sunday social.”
*************
Adam and Hoss had no trouble picking
up Joe’s trail as they approached Rim Rock Canyon. Daylight lingered until
almost nine in the early summer, and Adam had guessed it was only a little after
seven when they had left the Ponderosa. The sun was bright enough for the two
Cartwrights to see the tracks a horse had made through the tall grass.
As they neared the canyon, Adam put
up his hand to halt his brother.
Hoss looked around. “I bet he’s
heading for Piaute Rock,” he said. “If he was meeting somebody, that’s the
easiest place to find around here.”
“You’re probably right,” agreed Adam.
“Let’s leave the horses a little way off from Piaute Rock and go the rest of the
way on foot. If we keep to the brush, Joe won’t see us.”
A troubled look crossed Hoss’ face.
“Adam, you sure we’re doing the right thing? It don’t feel right sneaking after
Joe like this.”
“We’re only making sure he’s not
getting himself into some kind of trouble,” Adam replied patiently. “It’s for
his own good.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” said Hoss. “I just
hope Joe feels that way.”
Adam and Hoss left their horses about
twenty yards from Piaute Rock, and walked as quietly as possible through the
trees and bushes toward the landmark. Hoss was beginning to think that Joe was
someplace else when Adam suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him down. Hoss
looked at Adam in surprise and started to say something, but Adam quickly put
his finger to his lips. Then Adam pointed through the brush.
Joe was sitting at the base of a tall
rock decorated with drawings and figures. His horse was tied to a bush a few
feet away. Joe was patiently whittling on a stick as he obviously waited for
someone.
Adam and Hoss crept through the brush
toward Piaute Rock. They stopped a few feet away from the tall and crouched down
to watch and listen. They didn’t have to wait long. The sound of a horse
approaching drew both their attention and Joe’s.
Joe threw away the stick he was
whittling as he saw the rider. He got to his feet and closed his pocket knife as
the rider approaching.
“You finally got here,” said Joe to
the rider as he stuck the knife in the pocket of his jacket. “I thought maybe
you weren’t coming.”
“That’s Pete Gordon,” whispered Hoss.
“Shhhh,” cautioned Adam.
“I’m sorry, Joe,” said Pete in an
apologetic voice as he pulled his horse to a stop. “I got hung up.” He shook his
head. “This whole thing is getting a lot more complicated than I thought.”
Joe looked up to the rider from the
ground. “You’re telling me!” said Joe in an exasperated voice. “When I agreed to
help, I didn’t think I was going to get sucked in this deep.”
“I know, Joe, I know,” said Pete. He
let out a sigh. “I thought this was going to be simple but it’s not.”
“How much longer is this going to
take?” asked Joe. “My Pa is starting to ask where I’m going after dinner.”
“You didn’t tell him?” said Pete in
alarm.
“No, I didn’t,” Joe assured the man
on the horse. “I haven’t said anything to anybody about this.” Joe cocked his
head. “So how much longer?”
“Tonight should be the last night,”
promised Pete. “After tonight, I can put my plan into action.”
Joe shook his head. “You know I still
think you’re going about this all wrong. There’s a whole lot easier way to get
cattle.”
“You’re still going to help me,
aren’t you?” asked Pete in alarm. “I need you, Joe. I can’t tell one cow from
another. I need you to tell me which ones to take.”
“Yeah, I’ll help you, like I said,”
replied Joe with a sigh. “Just don’t let anyone know I was in on this.”
“Don’t worry,” Pete assured him. “I’m
not going to tell anyone.” Pete looked at Joe, his gratitude evident on his
face. “Joe, I owe you for this. I really do.”
Joe shrugged, then grinned. “Just
don’t ask me to help you change those brands.” With a nod, he walked over and
untied his horse, then vaulted into the saddle. “Come on,” said Joe. “We only
have an hour or so of daylight left. Let’s go look at some cattle.” Joe gave his
horse a light kick and started to ride off. Pete turned his horse and followed
Adam and Hoss stood as two riders
rode off. Bushing aside the brush, the two walked toward Piaute Rock.
“What do you think they’re up to,
Adam?” asked Hoss in a puzzled voice.
“I don’t know for sure,” replied Adam
grimly, “but it sounded an awful lot like Joe was scouting some cattle for Pete
to rustle.”
“Aw, Adam, Joe wouldn’t do anything
like that,” said Hoss. A flicker of doubt crossed his face. “Would he?”
“Joe and Pete have been friends for a
long time,” said Adam. “And I know Pete is unhappy with working in the office at
the Lucky Dollar mine. Rustling some cattle would be a good way for Pete to make
some money.”
“But Joe wouldn’t help him do
anything illegal?” protested Hoss.
“I wouldn’t have thought so,” said
Adam. “But Pete doesn’t have a ranch. If he isn’t thinking about rustling, why
does he want Joe to help him pick out cattle?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Hoss. He
looked at Adam with a troubled face. “What do you want to do? Follow them?”
“No,” replied Adam with a shake of
his head. “By the time we get our horses and try to find their trail, it’ll be
getting dark. Besides, it didn’t sound like anything was going to happen
tonight. I think the best thing to do is go back to the ranch and tell Pa what
we heard. Maybe he can talk some sense into Joe.”
“I hope so,” said Hoss. The big man
shook his head. “This is going to break Pa’s heart when we tell him.”
***************
Joe was surprised to see three
grim-faced men sitting by the fireplace as he walked in the front door of the
Ponderosa. He couldn’t imagine what had happened to cause such somber looks on
his father and brothers’ faces.
“What’s wrong?” asked Joe as he shut
the door behind him. He quickly pulled his hat off his head and stuck it on the
peg next to the door.
“Joseph, we need to talk,” said Ben
from his red leather chair near the fireplace.
“Sure,” said Joe, as he untied his
holster from his leg and unbuckled the gun belt from around his hips. He threw
the gunbelt on the top of the bureau near the door.
“What’s wrong?” said Joe again as he
crossed the room. A feeling of alarm was growing in him as he studied the grim
faces around the room.
“Sit down, Joseph,” said Ben in a
serious voice.
Joe slid down on the sofa across from
the fireplace and looked around the room. Adam was sitting in the blue chair
near the staircase and Hoss was perched on the ledge in front of the fireplace.
Adam’s face was wrinkled into a frown. Hoss simply looked sad.
Joe turned to his father with an
expectant look. “Pa, what’s going on?” he asked, his alarm growing.
“Joe,” started Ben. Then he
hesitated. He had been anxious to talk to his youngest son, but now that Joe was
here, Ben wasn’t sure what to say. When Hoss and Adam had told him about the
overheard conversation, Ben had been angry at first. Then his emotions had
changed to disappointment and fear. Now, looking at Joe, he didn’t know what he
felt. Joe’s eyes were wide with both innocence and concern.
“Joseph,” said Ben again. “I know how
you feel about helping a friend, but it’s wrong to get involved in rustling.”
“Rustling?” said Joe in a puzzled
voice. “What are you talking about?”
“Joe, Hoss and I followed you up to
Rim Rock Canyon,” said Adam in a serious voice. “We heard what you and Pete
Gordon said.”
“We heard Pete asking you to scout
some cattle for him to rustle,” added Hoss. He shook his head. “Joe, that’s
plain wrong.”
Joe looked around the room in
astonishment. He was torn between a desire to burst into laughter and a need to
give into the anger he felt growing in him. Joe finally gave into the former and
began to laugh.
“I don’t see anything funny about
this situation, young man, “ said Ben sternly as Joe began to cackle.
“I do, Pa,” said Joe as he shook with
laughter.
Ben looked at Adam and Hoss. They
were as stunned by Joe’s reaction as their father.
“I’m sorry, Pa,” said Joe as he took
a deep breath and tried to stop laughing. Joe wiped his eyes. “It’s just so….”
Joe shook his head and
“What?” said Ben in astonishment.
“Pete’s uncle back East died and left
him $10,000,” explained Joe. “He’s going to buy the old Henderson place and
stock it with cattle. He asked me to look at some cattle from a couple of the
herds he’s thinking about buying to make sure he was getting some good stock.”
“Why all the secrecy?” asked Adam
suspiciously.
“That was Pete’s idea,” answered Joe.
“Most people know that the only thing Pete knows about cattle is which end has
the horns. He was afraid if people knew he was looking to buy cattle, they’d
tried to pass their worst cows onto him. So he got it into his head to keep this
a secret until he and I could look at the herds. I thought it was only going to
take a day or two, but Pete ended up dragging me to every herd on the Comstock.”
“Why didn’t he just buy some cattle
from us?” asked Hoss. “He should know we wouldn’t cheat him.”
“I tried to tell him that,” said Joe
with a shake of his head. “But he said he didn’t want to trade on our
friendship. He was afraid Pa would sell him stock at a low price because we’re
friends. He said he didn’t want to start out on his new ranch feeling that he
owed somebody something.”
“Then it was all a misunderstanding,”
said Adam with a shake of his head.
“We should have known you wouldn’t
have gotten involved in something like rustling,” agreed Hoss.
As Hoss’ words sunk in, the situation
was suddenly no longer funny to Joe. His merriment turned to anger, with a dose
of hurt added. Joe found it especially painful that Hoss had doubted him.
“Yeah, you should have,” Joe said coldly. He gave his brothers a hard look. “And
what were you doing following me anyway?”
“We were just worried about you,”
explained Adam, looking uncomfortable.
“You were acting so funny, well, we
just thought maybe you’d gotten yourself involved in something you couldn’t
handle,” said Hoss. “We told Pa that maybe we just ought to make sure you were
all right.”
Joe turned to Ben. “You knew they
were going to follow me?”
Ben looked away for a moment, then
turned to meet Joe’s accusing eyes. “Yes, yes I did,” he admitted.
Joe stared at Ben, then turned to
look at Adam and Hoss. “Well, thank you,” he said in a voice cold with fury.
“Thank you all for showing me how much you trust me.”
“Ah, Joe, it ain’t that we don’t
trust you…” said Hoss.
“No?” interrupted Joe. “Then explain
why you thought you had to follow me and why you thought I’d do something as
stupid as getting involved in rustling.”
“You’ve been known to go off
half-cocked on occasion,” said Adam, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He
looked at Hoss for help. Getting none, Adam tried to explain. “We were just
trying to help,” he finished lamely.
“Joe, I’m sorry,” added Ben. “We
should have never interfered. We should have known better.”
Joe stood and looked at his father in
anger. “You’re right. You should have.” Joe turned on his heel and walked toward
the stairs.
“Joe, wait,” Ben called after his
son. “Joe!”
Joe ignored the calls. He climbed the
stairs without a backward glance at the three shamefaced men watching him.
************
Ben, Adam, and Hoss had finished
their breakfast by the time Joe slid in to his chair the next morning. No one
said a word as Joe filled his cup with coffee and then spooned some eggs onto
his plate.
“Good morning, Joseph,” said Ben
quietly, finally ending the awkward silence.
“Good morning,” replied Joe briefly.
The silence descended again as Joe
began to fork pieces of egg into his mouth. Ben looked at Hoss, who simply
stared at Joe, and then at Adam. Adam shrugged.
“Joe, about last night,” said Ben in
uncomfortable voice. “We really are sorry.”
Joe looked up at his father. “You
shouldn’t have sent Adam and Hoss to spy on me.”
“I didn’t send your brothers to spy
on you,” said Ben. “They were just trying to watch over you.”
Joe looked down at his plate. “You
know, Pa, I think that’s worse,” said Joe in a hurt voice. He looked up again,
his eyes full of pain. “it’s worse knowing that you don’t trust my judgment.”
“Joe, that’s not true,” protested
Ben. “I do trust your judgment. Look at all the times I’ve asked you to take of
business for the ranch. And even the ranch itself.”
“No, Pa,” replied Joe sadly. “You
trust me to do a job after you’ve told me exactly what to do. That’s not the
same thing as letting me make my own decisions.”
“I know you are perfectly capable of
making your own decisions,” said Ben.
“Yeah?” said Joe skeptically. He
looked around the table. “When was the last time I did something when one of you
didn’t second-guess me or check up on me?”
“It’s just that we have more
experience than you do,” said Adam.
“Experience?” scoffed Joe. “Don’t you
mean that you’re older than I am so that automatically makes you wiser than me.”
“You have to admit that you’ve done
some crazy things, little brother,” said Hoss.
“Sure I’ve made some mistakes,”
answered Joe. “Everybody makes mistakes. Seems to me that Pa always said making
mistakes is how you learn.”
“I did say that,” admitted Ben. “But
there’s a difference between making mistakes and making unwise choices. We’re
just trying to help you make the right choices.”
“And there’s a difference between
helping me and not trusting me,” snapped Joe, his anger flaring.
“Trust is a two way street,” said
Adam. “If you had trusted us enough to tell us what was going on, we would have
never followed you last night.”
“I promised Pete I wouldn’t say
anything,” said Joe. “I didn’t think I would have to break that promise. I
didn’t think I had to explain every single thing I do to my family.”
“Of course you don’t,” said Ben in a
soothing voice. “But at the same time, you can’t blame us for being concerned
about you. Especially when you act so secretive.”
“We didn’t know what was going on,
Joe,” said Hoss. “That’s what had us worried.”
“Maybe I overdid it a bit. But you
still should have trusted me,” insisted Joe.
“We were only trying to protect you,
Joe,” answered Ben.
“Protect me? Like some little kid?”
Joe shook his head. “Well, I’m not
Joe stood and started to walk from
the table. He stopped and turned abruptly. “You know, Pa, you’ve always said
that a tree needs some room if it’s going to grow. Maybe that’s what I need.
Some room to grow.”
Ben watched in stunned silence as Joe
walked away from the table.
“Aw, Pa, you know Joe,” said Hoss.
“He gets mad but he cools down after he’s had some time to think things
through.”
“He just needs some time,” agreed
Adam. “He’ll get over it.
“Will he?” asked Ben. “This wasn’t
some prank, something that he can shrug off. I think Joe is deeply hurt by what
happened. He doesn’t think we trust him.”
Adam glanced at Hoss, then back to
his father. “What can we do about it?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Adam,” replied Ben
with a frown. “I just don’t know.”
****************
Ben walked slowly up to the corral
that was being used to break horses. He could see Joe in the middle of the
corral, getting ready to mount a horse that was pawing the ground nervously.
Ben came closer and leaned against the fence to watch.
Ben had spent the morning staring
into the fireplace, deep in thought. Adam and Hoss had left the house after
breakfast, wisely deciding to handle some chores far from any place where Joe
might be. They both agreed that the last people Joe wanted to see that morning
was his brothers.
When Ben had finally decided to go
looking for Joe, he was surprised when one of the hands told him Joe had been
down at the breaking corral all morning, finishing work on the horses. Ben had
had the vague idea that Joe would have run off someplace, perhaps to Virginia
City or to a friend, to nurse his wounds. Ben hadn’t expected his volatile son
would vent his anger by going straight to work.
Ben watched as Joe rode the bucking
horse around the corral. The horse jerked Joe forward in the saddle a couple of
times but then Joe found the rhythm of the horse’s movements. No matter how hard
the horse bucked and twisted, the animal couldn’t rid itself of its rider. Joe
stayed on the horse’s back as if glued to the saddle. After a few minutes, the
horse gave in to the inevitable and stopped bucking. Joe began to guide the
horse around the corral.
“Nice ride!” a voice called out next
to Ben. Ben turned to look and saw Hank, one of the hands, leaning next to him
against the fence.
“He did a good job,” agreed Ben.
“He sure did,” said Hank. Hank shook
his head. “You know, Mr. Cartwright, I’ve seen a lot of bronc riders in my time.
Joe’s good at it, real good. Maybe the best I’ve seen.”
Ben’s eye widen as he faced yet
another unknown fact about his son. Ben hadn’t watched or thought about Joe
breaking horses in quite awhile. He just assumed Joe knew how to do it. He
hadn’t thought about how good Joe might have become at taming horses.
A troubled look crossed Ben’s face as
he watched Joe pull the horse to a stop and dismount. When had he lost track of
his son, he wondered. When had he stopped thinking of Joe as an individual, a
son to be nourished and cherished? When had he begun taking Joe for granted?
Joe watched the horse being led away,
absent-mindedly swiping the dust from the stiff leather chaps that protected his
legs. He turned to walk across the corral and stopped when he saw his father
leaning against the fence watching him. Joe tugged nervously at the gloves on
his hands then started forward.
“Good ride, son,” said Ben as Joe
came up to the fence.
“Thanks,” said Joe shortly.
Ben chewed his lip for a moment, then
said. “Could we talk?”
“Sure,” answered Joe in a cautious
voice.
Ben glanced at Hank standing next to
him, then cocked his head to the right. “Why don’t we go over here.” Ben walked
a few feet away from Hank and waited.
Joe climbed over the fence and jumped
to the ground. He followed Ben, rubbing his hands nervously on his thighs as he
walked.
Ben looked Joe straight in the eyes
as his son stopped next to him.
“Joe, I’m sorry about what happened
last night,” he said slowly. “But I’m even more sorry about what you said at
breakfast this morning.”
Joe looked away, feeling embarrassed.
He felt his complaints had been valid, but he hadn’t meant to be so strident
when voicing them.
“Pa, I didn’t mean to…” started Joe.
“Let me finish,” interrupted Ben.
“Joe, being a parent is hard. It’s probably the toughest job in the world. You
have to find that middle ground between guiding and protecting your children and
giving them the freedom to lead their own lives. It’s not easy. There’s no sign
posts to tell a parent when they’ve strayed off that middle ground. Somehow,
somewhere, I’ve strayed over the line. And I’m sorry.”
Joe looked up at his father. “Pa, I
know you were only trying to do what you thought was best. But sometimes, you
have to let me decide what’s best for me.”
“I know that, son,” said Ben. He
sighed. “Life can be a long and treacherous road. I just worry that somewhere
along the way, one of my sons will get lost along that road.”
“But it’s a road I have to walk
myself,” said Joe in a serious tone, continuing the analogy. “You can’t do it
for me.”
“I know that, too,” agreed Ben.
“It’s just hard for me to remember you
“Pa, I’m not ten years old any more,”
commented Joe wryly.
Ben sighed. “Sometimes, I wish you
were only ten again. Things seemed a lot less complicated when you were
younger.”
Joe grinned. “Yeah, but then you’d be
yelling at me for skipping school or not doing my chores. I’m no angel, Pa. I’ve
given you reason to worry over the years.”
“To worry, yes,” said Ben with a nod.
“But never a reason not to trust you. I do trust Joe. I only hope you’ll believe
that.”
Joe studied the ground, not sure how
to answer. He wanted to believe what his father had said, but the thought of
being followed last night still rankled. Joe cleared his throat. “Those three
horses for Ferguson,” he said changing the subject, “you want to take a look at
them?”
“I’m sure the three you picked out
are fine,” said Ben.
Joe looked up and gave his father a
wry grin. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a look at them?”
“No, no, I’m sure they’re fine,” said
Ben.
“Well, why don’t I show them to you
any way,” said Joe, his grin widening. “I think it would make both of us feel
better.”
A thought struck Ben. “Joe, why don’t
you plan to deliver those horses to Ferguson,” suggested Ben. “A little time
away from each other might be a good idea – for all of us.”
Joe looked away for a minute then
nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Right now, I think I could use a little time away.
Especially from Adam and Hoss.”
“Your brothers were only trying to
help, Joe,” said Ben in a mild tone.
“Yeah, well, I don’t need their
help,” said Joe, his irritation returning.
Ben put his hand on Joe’s shoulder.
“Everyone needs help sometimes, Joe,” he said.
“I just wish you hadn’t felt like you
had to send Adam and Hoss after me,” said Joe, his irritation growing.
Ben looked away, trying to decide
what to say. “To be honest, it was Adam and Hoss’ idea to go after you,” Ben
said slowly.
“That figures,” said Joe, his
irritation turning into anger.
“But I agreed to the idea,” said Ben,
trying to mollify Joe. “I’m just as much to blame. I should have known better.”
“Pa, I can understand you worrying,”
said Joe. “But Adam and Hoss, well, they just plain like butting their nose into
my business.”
“Joe…”started Ben.
“You know it’s true, Pa,” said Joe,
his voice full of anger. “To them, I’m just a kid. I don’t know anything. Well,
I’m getting tired of them treating me like I don’t have enough sense to come in
out of the rain.”
Ben could see the stubborn look
returning to Joe’s face, and felt the ground he had gained in rebuilding things
with Joe was starting to slip away again. “You take those horses to Ferguson,
Joe.” he said quietly. “It will give us all a little time to cool off and think
about things.”
Joe took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. “Yeah, I think you’re right, Pa,” he said. “Remember what I said this
morning about needing some room. Well, maybe that’s what I need. A little room.
*******************
Ten days later, Joe was riding slowly
through the mountains on his way back from Twin Pines. He was in no hurry to get
home. His Pa had told him to take as much time as he needed to deliver those
horses to Ferguson. Joe knew what he really meant was to take as much time as he
needed to think through his relationship with his father and brothers.
The two days before Joe had left for
Twin Pines were uncomfortable around the Ponderosa. Adam and Hoss had been
unfailing polite and considerate around Joe. Joe, for his part, had remained
cool toward his brothers. Ben had tried his best to restore a sense of normalcy
around the house, but hadn’t had much success. It was a situation which they all
found to be awkward. But none of them seemed to know what to do to break through
the barrier that the argument and Joe’s hurt feelings had built.
Time and distance from the Ponderosa
had dissipated Joe’s anger but his anger had been replaced with frustration. Why
was it, Joe wondered, that it was only on the Ponderosa as a child? When he was
away from the ranch, people treated him as the rational, competent person that
he was. He had delivered the horses to Ferguson and received the payment without
any hitches. Ferguson had been pleased with the horses Joe selected. The rancher
hadn’t questioned him about his choices. He had paid Joe the money and even
bought Joe a beer in the saloon in Twin Pines before Joe left. Not once had
Ferguson seemed to think that Joe was too young, too inexperienced to handle the
transaction.
Joe sighed as his sense of
frustration mounted. He could understand his Pa fretting over him – that’s what
fathers did. But why couldn’t Adam and Hoss see him as an equal? Why did they
always treat him as incompetent child, someone who had to be watched and checked
on to make sure he did things right.
Maybe he should just stay away from
the ranch for a while, thought Joe. Maybe a few months on his own would show his
brothers that he could manage without their constant supervision. Joe shook his
head. The thought of being away from the Ponderosa for that long was a troubling
one. Despite his problems with Adam and Hoss, the Ponderosa was home.
Joe debated the issue with himself as
he rode, coming to no conclusion. He chafed at what he felt was unwarranted
intrusion into his life by his father and brothers but at the same time, he felt
no great desire to leave his home. For one thing, he didn’t know where he would
go or what he would do. And Joe knew himself well enough to know that, as much
as he complained, he would miss the companionship of his family.
Joe pushed the thought of his family
aside for awhile, and resolved to simply enjoy the trip home. He had decided to
travel through the mountains back to the Ponderosa, taking the slower but more
scenic route home. He enjoyed riding through the lush growth of trees and
flowers. The weather was pleasantly cool and there was a scent of pine and
honeysuckle in the air. A few birds twittered in the trees but otherwise, the
only sound Joe heard was the noise of his own progress through the woods. Joe
rode slowly, enjoying the peace and solitude of his trip.
This ride would be perfect, Joe
thought, if only he hadn’t had to leave his pinto behind. Cochise had a stone
bruise, nothing serious but it prevented Joe from riding his usual horse to Twin
Pines. Instead, he was on a big roan. The horse was comfortable and did what he
told it, but Joe felt no connection with the horse. It was just transportation.
A small stream trickled along near
the trail. Joe decided to stop and fill his canteen. He drank from the cool,
fresh water and filled the canteen to the brim. Joe led his horse to the stream
and watched as his horse drank its fill.
Joe looked up abruptly as he heard an
odd noise. He looked around, alert and straining to hear the noise again. A
first, all he heard was the silence of the woods. But then he heard a branch
snap, and the thud of a hoof. His horse snickered, smelling another horse
nearby. There was no question another rider was coming up behind him.
Joe wasn’t particularly alarmed.
After all, there was no reason why another rider shouldn’t follow the same route
he was taking. But at the same time, he decided to act cautiously. Few people
traveled through the mountains; most preferred the easier, more direct trails
Joe led the roan away from the stream
and into the brush, choosing an area where he could see through the trees, but
would be difficult to be seen by someone else. Joe eased the loop off the hammer
of his pistol in his holster, and pulled the gun up slightly to make sure it
would be easy to draw. Then he stood next to his horse and patiently waited.
A few minutes later, a rider walked
his horse slowly through the natural path between the trees. The rider was a big
man, perhaps in his thirties, wearing a checked shirt and black vest. He wore a
black hat, and the dark shadow of a few day’s growth of beard. Joe had a vague
memory of seeing the man around Twin Pines.
The rider was looking to the ground
as he rode, as if he were trying to follow some tracks. He stopped his horse
where Joe had pulled the roan to a stop and a puzzled expression crossed his
face. He looked around, finally turning toward the brush where Joe was standing
the in shadows.
“Looking for something?” asked Joe
from the trees.
The rider looked startled at the
voice and peered into the trees, finally spotting Joe in the dim light. An
attempt at a smile crossed the man’s face, but the smile looked more like a wolf
baring his teeth.
“Oh, hi,” said the man. “You
surprised me.”
“Why were you following me?” asked
Joe.
“I, uh, I wasn’t following you,”
replied the rider. “Just cutting over the mountains.”
“Right,” replied Joe in a voice that
conveyed his disbelief. “That’s why you were reading my tracks.”
“Well, I was curious when I saw your
trail,” replied the man. “Not many people come up this way. I was just kind of
amusing myself trying to following your tracks.”
“Why don’t you just amuse yourself by
riding on,” suggested Joe.
“Sure, friend,” replied the man. The
man looked around. “You don’t mind if I water my horse first, do you?”
Joe did mind. Some instinct told him
that this wasn’t a man to be trusted. But Joe couldn’t think of an excuse not
to let the rider water his horse. “Go ahead,” said Joe. “Get some water and then
move on.”
The rider nodded and slowly
dismounted, watching Joe cautiously as he landed on the ground. He led his horse
to the stream and watched as the animal drank. The rider cupped some water into
his own mouth.
Joe led his horse a few steps
forward, out of the brush. He wanted to be able to keep his eye on the rider,
and back near the trees, it was difficult to see the man by the stream. Joe held
the reins in his right hand, and kept his left hand near the butt of his pistol.
“I saw you around Twin Peaks, didn’t
I?” said the rider as he lead his horse back from the stream. “You’re the kid
who sold those horses to Ferguson, aren’t you.”
“Yeah,” replied Joe shortly. “What’s
it to you?”
“Nothing,” said the man with a shrug.
“Just making conversation. Those were nice horses you sold to Ferguson. Must
have got a nice price for them.”
“That’s my business,” replied Joe.
“Why don’t you get on your horse and move on.”
“Cranky, aren’t you, friend,” said
the rider.
“I just don’t like people butting
into my business,” said Joe.
The rider looked at Joe, eyes narrow
and calculating. Then he made his move.
As Joe saw the rider’s right hand
reach for the gun in his holster, his own left hand reached for his own gun as
he dove to his right. Both men were fast with their guns. Both pistols fired
almost simultaneously.
Instantly, Joe felt a burning pain in
his left side as he hit the ground. He watched as the rider clutched his chest
and doubled over. Then the pain in Joe’s side seem to intensify. He winced and
grabbed his side with his right hand. He felt the sticky liquid and knew he had
been hit.
Laying on the ground, Joe closed his
eyes tightly as the pain seemed to burn into his side. He could hear the sound
of horses running, and the soft grunts of his own agony. He was breathing hard
and he could hear his breath escaping in rapid bursts through his mouth.
But Joe was grateful for what he
didn’t hear – the sound of the other man moving and the click of a trigger being
pulled for a second shot.
Joe wasn’t sure how long he laid on
the ground with his eyes closed. No more than a few minutes, he was sure. The
pain in his side seemed to ease a bit, and Joe rolled on his right side, pulling
his knees up a bit and curling his shoulders forward. That seemed to ease the
pain even more. Joe laid on his side for another few minutes and then slowly
opened his eyes.
A few feet away, Joe could see the
rider on the ground. The man laid on his stomach, face down, his gun a few
inches from his hand. Joe couldn’t tell if the man was dead or alive. He knew he
should probably check. But he also knew that in his current position, the pain
in his side was at least bearable. If he moved, the pain would get worse. So Joe
simply laid on the ground and closed his eyes.
It was the sound of the water
splashing over the rocks in the stream that finally got Joe to move. He laid on
the ground for a long time in not a comfortable position but one which he felt
offered him the least amount of pain. A lassitude seemed to be creeping through
him, and Joe’s felt no desire to move. Some part of Joe’s brain was telling him
that if he simply laid here, he would die. But the rest of his body seemed to
reject this notion. Joe lost track of time, and thought he may have even drifted
in and out of consciousness for awhile. He knew he ought to care about that, but
he didn’t.
But the longer he laid on the ground,
the drier his mouth grew and the bigger his thirst. He suddenly wanted nothing
more out of life than a drink of that cold water from the stream. The sound of
the water tickling over the rocks seemed to beckon him. Joe could hear the water
running slowly and an occasional splash as something like a branch or a stone
dropped by a bird hit the water. The desire for a drink overcame his desire to
lay unmoving on the ground.
Slowly uncoiled his body, Joe grunted
as each movement seemed to set off a new wave of pain. He pushed himself up on
his elbows, and slowly forced the lower half of his body up until he was on his
knees. He thought briefly about standing but quickly discarded that notion. He
didn’t think he had the strength, and, besides, being on his hands and knees
seemed to ease the pain again.
Turning his head slowly, Joe looked
until he could see the stream, and then kept his eyes fixed on his objective.
For right now, all that mattered was getting to the water. He slowly began to
crawl on his hands and knees, grunting in pain as he moved. He didn’t mark the
distance he had to travel. He simply forced himself forward.
Joe was surprised when he found
himself next to the rider sprawled on the ground. He hadn’t really had a sense
of making progress over the rough ground. Joe stopped and shook his head to
clear it. He remembered he should check to see if the man was dead. Joe put his
hand on the man’s back and felt no movement. He reached a little higher until
his hand found the man’s neck. The flesh was cool and Joe couldn’t feel a pulse.
Joe was fairly sure the man was dead.
Seeing the rider’s gun laying on the
ground in front of him, Joe brushed it away with his hand. Then he turned once
more to look for the stream. Now he could see the water as well as hear it. Joe
forgot about the dead man and the gun laying nearby. He began to crawl forward
once more.
With a sense of relief, Joe finally
reached the water. He collapsed to the ground and plunged his face into the
stream. The water flowed into his mouth and he began drinking. The cool water
was the best thing Joe had ever tasted.
Joe finally lifted his head from the
water, his thirst at least temporarily satisfied. The cool water on his face
seemed to clear his thinking and revive his spirit also. For the first time, he
began thinking about taking stock of his situation.
Rolling to his right, Joe took a look
at the wound in his side for the first time. His shirt and jacket were soaked
with blood. He pulled the cloth up and winced both from the pain and the sight
of the wound.
The bullet seemed to have taken a
chunk of flesh out of Joe’s side. The wound was bleeding freely, but as far as
Joe could tell, the bullet hadn’t hit anything but flesh and muscle. Shock, pain
and loss of blood seemed to be the worst damage done by the bullet.
With fumbling fingers, Joe searched
the inside of his jacket for the small pocket and then for piece of cloth inside
the pocket. He finally found the handkerchief and pulled it out. The
handkerchief wasn’t very big, and it had the dull white color of much washed
cloth. Joe stuck the handkerchief in the stream and waited a moment until he was
sure the cloth was thoroughly soaked. Then he pulled the dripping handkerchief
out of the water and pressed it against his side.
As he pressed the wet cloth against
the wound, Joe yelped with pain but he held the handkerchief firmly against his
side. He fell onto his back and pressed even harder against the wound. As he
stared up at the sky, Joe tried to think about what to do next.
The horses had run off, that he knew.
They had been frightened by the loud shots so close to them. Joe thought briefly
about trying to find one of them, but discarded that idea. There was no telling
how long and far they would run. He could try to track them for days without
success.
What he needed now, Joe decided, was
some help. The nearest town was Twin Pines, and that was almost a day’s ride on
horseback. For a wounded man on foot, it would take much longer to reach the
town.
Initially, Joe thought about simply
staying where he was. He had plenty of water and was reasonably comfortable. A
rider could come up the trail. Maybe it was just wiser to stay here than try to
make it back to town.
Then Joe gave a short, ironic laugh
as he thought about what to do. He had told his Pa that he wanted to make his
own decisions. Well, now he was faced with one of those decisions. He could try
to make it to Twin Pines or take his chances by staying where he was. Joe shook
his head. He wished he knew what was the best thing to do. He wished he had
someone to tell him what to do.
Turning his head, Joe looked over to
toward the body laying on the ground. Ferguson had paid him a hundred dollars
for the three horses. A hundred dollars, Joe thought, wasn’t much money. Maybe
the man thought he had more money, or maybe a hundred dollars had been a lot of
money to him. Joe shook his head. It didn’t matter. That hundred dollars had
been the price of the man’s life – and maybe his own.
Staring up at the sky, Joe could see
the sun through the trees and knew it was afternoon. Maybe he should simply stay
where he was until morning, and then start out for Twin Pines then. He winced as
he felt another stab of pain from his side. Walking to Twin Pines would be
difficult, painful. Maybe he was better off where he was.
Joe closed his eyes and forced
himself to look at the situation he was in. If he stayed where he was, there was
good chance he could die. Infection, starvation, even exposure would probably
kill him if he simply laid by the stream. If he wanted to have any chance at
all, he had to try for Twin Pines, had to try to find help. And he had to do it
now, while he still had the strength.
Rolling on his side again, Joe once
more he plunged his face into the stream to drink. He drank as much water as he
could, not knowing when he might find another stream. He raised his face from
the stream. The water dripped from his hair and face. One last time, he put his
face in the water, and forced himself to drink again. When he was convinced he
had filled himself with as much water as he could hold, Joe raised his head from
the stream.
Laying on his side, Joe gathered his
strength and telling himself that he could make it to Twin Pines. The closer he
got to the town, the more likely he was to find help. He would make it, he told
himself over and over again.
Taking a deep breath, Joe pushed
himself up on his elbow. He held the handkerchief against his left side firmly
as he pushed himself off the ground with his right hand. Joe winced and grunted
as he moved his legs. He wasn’t sure exactly how he managed to do it, but
somehow, he got to his feet.
Joe stood still for a moment,
gathering his strength. His legs felt weak and he seemed lightheaded. He closed
his eyes and took another breath. He slowly opened his eyes and looked into the
trees in front of him. What had once seemed a peaceful forest now seemed like an
expanse of frightening empty woods. Joe gritted his teeth. Then he began
walking.
************
The sun had dipped a bit in the late
afternoon sky as Joe staggered slowly between the trees. His side burned with
pain as he walked, and his head was aching. Rivulets of sweat ran down his face
and neck, caused by exertion, pain and a growing fever. Joe felt as if he had
been walking for days, although in reality he had left the stream only a little
over an hour ago. Joe had lost all sense of time and direction as he wandered
through the woods, his gait more a shuffle than a walk. He vaguely remembered he
was trying to get someplace, but he had forgotten where. All of his effort was
focused on trying to stay on his feet.
Joe took a few more steps, then
rested, leaning against a tree. His right hand still pressed the now bloody
cloth against his side, although this was simply another activity which his
muddled brain had fixed into place than a conscious act. His knees buckled a bit
as Joe’s tired body fought his determination to stay on his feet. Joe blinked as
he stared almost uncomprehending at the tall trees and thick brush spreading out
in front of him. The woods seemed endless, offering no hint of anyone or
anything that might offer help.
Pushing himself away from the tree,
Joe shuffled forward, his determination to keep moving winning, at least
temporarily, over his
Joe laid on his left side on the
ground, his tired body wanting to stay where it was. Joe could feel the hard
ground against his cheek and could the smell the dirt on which he laid. He also
smelled another scent, this one unrecognizable. The odor was pungent and the
image it flashed into Joe’s brain was that of some type of animal.
It took a few seconds for Joe’s brain
to connect the smell with danger, but once it did, Joe felt a new urgency to
move. He pushed himself up on his elbow and lifted his head and shoulders. Joe
swiveled his head, looking for any sign of the animal and was relieved when he
saw nothing. He pulled his left leg forward a bit and his knee brushed against
something hard. Joe look back toward his leg and saw an odd-looking pile of
leaves and twigs. He looked away, his mind too tired and muddled to consider
what the small mound of coverings might be.
Joe heard the trap spring an instant
before he felt its teeth bite into his leg.
As the bear trap snapped closed
around his leg, Joe screamed in agony. The sharp teeth dug into his calf and
ground into the bone of his leg. Joe instinctively tried to pull his leg away,
but that caused only the trap to tear away more skin and muscle. A wave of
agonizing pain radiated up his leg.
Gasping for breath, Joe laid still.
The pain was so bad he could barely breathe and he knew any movement would cause
the trap to tear at his leg some more. He cursed himself for his stupidity in
not realizing the scent had been a lure for the bear and for not seeing the trap
in the pile of leaves.
Joe forgot the pain in his side as it
was replaced by a more intense agonizing pain. He could barely think; his brain
seemed to be filled with urgent messages to do something, anything to ease the
pain from his leg.
Moving with almost infinite slowness,
Joe pulled himself off the ground. He was careful not to move his leg, not
wanting to do anything that cause the sharp teeth of the trap to tear away more
flesh. Joe propped himself up on his elbow, and through a haze of pain, studied
the trap.
His leg was horizontal in the trap,
caught as he had brushed across it
The problem now was how to get the
trap open far enough that he could pull his leg free. Joe knew the best way to
open a bear trap was to put pressure on the levers at either end of the now
closed jaws. Joe twisted slowly, trying to position himself to reach the levers.
Closing his eyes and gritting his
teeth, Joe tried to ease the pain in his side. It was now a question of which
hurt most, his leg or his side.
Joe opened his eyes and forced
himself to continue to twist his body so his hands would be closer to the trap.
He bent his captured leg slightly at the knee, hoping the movement would cause
the teeth to dig further into his leg.
For several minutes, Joe bent and
curled his body before he finally admitted he couldn’t maneuver himself into the
right position to reach both levers.
All right, thought Joe grimly, if I
can’t use the levers, I’ll just pull the jaws open. Joe bent his body a bit
more, trying desperately to ignore the stabs of pain from his side. He gripped
the jaws on either side of his leg.
Joe’s hands were slick from both
sweat and the blood from his side. He couldn’t get a good grip on the metal. Joe
wiped his hands on the ground, trying to dry them, then grabbed at the jaws of
the trap once more.
Pulling with every ounce of strength
he had, Joe tried to open the trap. Unfortunately, his strength had been sapped
by the gunshot wound and his exhausting trek through the woods. Despite his
efforts, Joe couldn’t move the jaws. His leg remained firmly caught in
Joe fell back to the ground, his
small reserve of strength gone. He pounded the ground weakly in frustration and
agony. The pain in his leg was an intense throb and his side ached. Joe had
heard stories of animals caught in traps gnawing off their leg in order to get
free. He had thought those stories incredible. Now he understood why an animal
might do that. Joe would do anything to free his leg and end the agonizing pain.
A look of fierce determination
crossed Joe’s face as he pushed himself up off the ground again. He forced the
pain back to a small area of his mind, and he concentrated every ounce of
strength he had into his arms. Once more he gripped the metal jaws and once more
he tried to pull them apart. With an almost superhuman effort, his hands began
to separate the metal. The trap opened only a fraction, not enough to free his
leg, but enough to keep Joe pulling at the metal.
Joe had managed to open the trap a
fraction more when his sweaty left hand lost it’s grip on the metal. The jaw of
the trap slipped from his hand and snapped closed on his leg again. Joe screamed
as once more the teeth dug into his flesh. He fell back to the ground as the
agonizing pain radiated up his leg with renewed intensity. Joe’s body went limp
and dark spots danced before his eyes. He felt himself slipping into
unconsciousness and didn’t resist. He no longer had the strength to do anything
but accept the end of awareness.
****************
The dog spotted the figure on the
ground as it ran ahead of its master. The animal stopped and growled a bit,
challenging the unknown human a few feet away. The black hair on its back
bristled and its sharp teeth were visible under its curled lips. When the human
didn’t move or respond, the dog moved forward, sniffing cautiously. The scent of
bear as well as blood frightened the dog. It ran back a few steps, yelping
excitedly, then turned back to the figure which still hadn’t moved. The dog
began barking, trying both to warn its master and frighten away the unwanted
scents.
“Be quiet, Lucifer,” ordered the
dog’s master as he guided his horse toward the excited dog. Lucifer ignored the
order, and continued to bark at the figure on the ground.
The man led his horse over by the
dog. The rider wore a light blue shirt and a tan vest. His legs were covered by
dark brown trousers, and a light brown hat was perched on his head. Thick white
hair was visible beneath the hat, and a neatly trimmed white beard and mustache
covered his tanned face. Faint lines were visible on his face and around his
blue eyes. The man wasn’t young, but neither was he what people would consider
old.
The rider held the reins loosely but
tightened his grip as he rode closer to the dog. His horse shied a bit, catching
the whiff of bear scent and blood also, but the rider pulled on the reins to
control the horse. When the horse was quiet, the man looked to see what Lucifer
had found.
The man’s eyes widened in surprise as
he saw the young man sprawled on the ground with a bear trap gripping his leg.
He quickly dismounted and led his horse a step or two away, toward a nearby
tree. The rider looped the reins around a low branch and tied them tightly. He
had no desire to chase after a frightened horse.
Lucifer continued to bark and dance
around wildly, becoming more excited with each passing minute. The rider stopped
and knelt by the dog, grabbing the animal’s head and neck in a light grip. “All
right, all right,” he said to the dog in a soothing tone. “I see him. You just
calm down, Lucifer.” The man patted and stroked the dog’s head until Lucifer
stopped barking. “Good dog,” added the man as he gave the dog another few pats.
“You stay here and be quiet.”
Lucifer watched as his master got to
his fee and walked over toward the figure on the ground. The dog’s body was
tense but he obeyed the order to stay still.
Joe laid on his side, his back to the
approaching man. The man could detect no movement and wondered if the figure on
the ground was dead or alive. The man knelt next to Joe to get a better look. He
was surprised at how young the man was, little more than a boy. The rider put
his hand on the side of the boy’s neck. He could feel a faint pulse, and now
that he was near the boy, see the slight rise and fall of the young man’s chest.
“Son, you sure got yourself into a
fix,” muttered the man as he turned to look at leg in the bear trap. Joe’s pants
leg was soaked with blood,
The man moved to the trap and gripped
the levers on either side of the jaws. He pushed hard on the levers. The trap
had been sitting in the woods for some time, and while it wasn’t rusty, the
mechanism of the trap was stiff. The man pushed hard, feeling the trap’s
resistance. Slowly the jaws began to separate. The man pushed even harder and
the jaws opened.
Joe’s leg dropped to the ground as it
was released. The man waited until he was sure he had the jaws re-set, then
quickly lifted Joe’s leg out of the trap. He eased the leg to the side, making
sure it was clear of the bear trap, then set the leg down gently. The man looked
around and saw a small branch a few feet away. He got to his feet and walked
over to pick up the branch then returned to the bear trap.
The man threw the stick aside and
turned his attention to the boy on the ground.
Joe had laid silent and unmoving
throughout the whole process of his release from the bear trap. The man shook
his head at that. He wondered if the boy had hit his head or something. He found
it curious that the young man had been so still.
The man turned Joe over gently on to
his back, and once more his eyes widened as he saw the wide stain of blood on
the left side of Joe’s jacket and shirt. “What have you done to yourself?” the
man said as he shook his head. He gently pulled up Joe’s shirt. A bloody cloth
was pressed again Joe’s side. The man slowly removed the cloth and looked at the
wound. He could tell it was a gunshot wound, probably a few hours old. Dried
blood crusted the wound, although a trickle of fluid still escaped. The skin
around the wound was red and a bit swollen. The man’s conclusion was the same as
Joe’s – the bullet had gone through Joe’s side, putting a deep gash in the young
man’s flesh, but missing any organs or bone.
The man dropped the cloth to the
side, and pulled Joe’s shirt down. He looked up to the face of the boy.
Joe’s face was pale, almost waxen,
but two bright spots of red were visible on his cheeks. The red spots and the
beads of sweat on Joe’s face and neck told the man that fever and probably
infection had already set in.
The man turned his attention to Joe’s
leg. Blood was still seeping from the leg, telling the man the injury was newer
than the gunshot wound. It didn’t take much for the man to figure out that Joe
had been wandering around with the wound in his side and stumbled into the bear
trap. “You’re having a really bad day, aren’t you,” said the man, glancing at
Joe’s face. “Well, let’s see what we can do about patching you up a bit.”
The man stood and walked over to his
horse. As he passed his dog, still standing and watching patiently, he gave the
animal a pat on the head. “Good work, Lucifer,” he said. The dog barked once
then sat on its haunches.
The man walked over to his horse and
pulled open the saddlebag slung across the animals back. He studied the contents
with a frown.
There wasn’t much in the bag that
would be of help to him. He pulled out a checked napkin, the cloth that had once
wrapped his noontime sandwich. The cloth was clean, but he shook it out anyway,
just to be sure. He pulled out a knife in a scabbard, and tugged the knife free,
dropping the scabbard back in the saddlebag. He looked into the bag again, as if
he expected other items to magically appear. Then he closed the bag.
The man slipped off his vest and put
it over the saddle. He began unbuttoning his shirt with a sigh. “I did like this
shirt,” he said as he shook his head. When the buttons were undone, he slipped
the shirt off, revealing a well-formed chest sparsely covered with a fine layer
of gray hair. The man put his vest back on, then used the knife to slice the
shirt into strips.
When the blue cloth had been cut into
several long strips, the man returned to Joe. He pulled up Joe’s shirt and
pressed the napkin against the gunshot wound, trying one of the strips around
Joe’s body to hold the napkin in place. Then he moved down to take a look at the
injured leg.
Using the knife, the man slit Joe’s
pants to the knee and pulled the cloth apart. Joe’s leg was covered with blood,
so the man used another strip of cloth to clean the leg as best he could. As he
wiped away the blood, he could see six puncture wounds, three in the calf and
three near the shin. The skin near the wounds was torn and the man figured the
boy had foolishly tried to pull his leg free. The punctures were deep, and blood
welled up in them almost as soon as the man wiped them clean.
The man felt the bone below Joe’s
knee. He couldn’t detect any displaced bone but that didn’t mean the leg didn’t
have some kind of break in it. The man took the remaining strips of cloth and
wrapped them tightly around Joe’s leg, both to stop the bleed and the hold the
bone in place if there was a fracture.
When he was finished, the man wiped
his hands on the ground, cleaning them a bit of the blood that now covered them.
He sat back, and thought about what to do next.
He knew the boy was in bad shape, and
needed some proper attention. The best thing to do, he decided, was to get him
to his place as quickly as possible. A travois would take time to build, even if
he could manage it with his limited resources. The man shook his head. There was
nothing to do but throw the boy on his horse and hope for the best.
The man stuck his knife through his
belt, then reached down to pick up the boy. He put one arm under Joe’s knees and
another under his shoulders. With a grunt, he lifted Joe from the ground, and
staggered to his feet.
Joe moaned softly and his head moved
slightly as the man lifted him.
It took several minutes of
maneuvering before the man got Joe into the saddle. Joe slumped forward over the
horn, arms dangling loosely on either side of the animal’s neck. His legs hung
against the side of the horse. The man untied the reins and climbed up on the
horse behind Joe. He reached forward and pulled the boy back against him. Joe
grunted softly but his arms and legs still hung lax. The man pulled the reins
and clicked at the horse, turning the animal and starting it at a walk. Without
looking, he called to the dog. “Come on, Lucifer,” he said. “Let’s get the boy
home.”
*********
The man wiped Joe’s face with a cold,
damp cloth, washing the sweat from the young man’s face. It was getting on
toward midnight, and, except for a brief respite to put on a shirt and feed the
animals, the man had been tending to the boy since late afternoon. As he worked,
the man wondered what else he could do to help the boy he had found in the
woods. He had managed to get the get injured man home, and after laying him on
the bed and striping him of his bloody clothes and makeshift bandages, he had
cleaned the wounds as best he could with alcohol. The sting of the alcohol had
forced several moans from the boy, but otherwise, Joe had remained silent and
unmoving on the bed.
The man had bandaged Joe’s wounds
with thick pads of white cloth, and covered him with several blankets, hoping to
sweat the fever out of the boy. He had spooned willow bark tea into Joe, a
remedy the man’s mother had sworn by to break a fever. The man wished he had
some other medicine to offer.
The man thought about going for a
doctor, but he quickly rejected the idea. There was no doctor in Twin Pines, and
he couldn’t leave the boy alone for the four or five days it would take to fetch
a doctor from the next town. Besides, the man had a feeling that by morning he
would know whether the boy was beyond help. The young man in the bed looked
strong and healthy, but he had lost a lot of blood, and the fever indicated the
wounds were infected. A battle was being waged within the boy’s body, and the
man felt he would know by morning which side was going to be victorious.
The man looked at the pale, sweaty
figure on the bed and wondered who the boy was and what he was doing in the
woods. Another thought niggled at the back of the man’s brain: why was he led to
the boy? The man pushed the thought aside for now. It was too weighty an idea
for him to contemplate as he sat by the boy’s bed.
The man wiped Joe’s face again, and
this time the young man in the bed stirred.
Joe felt a hand lifting his head from
the pillow. A cup was placed against Joe’s lips. Joe began sipping the liquid
slowly, almost too weak to swallow. The liquid had a slightly bitter taste but
Joe didn’t care. He drank it gratefully.
After a minute or so, the cup was
removed and Joe’s head was laid gently on the pillow. Joe laid still for a
moment then forced his tired eyes open.
“Pa?” said Joe in a whisper. He
closed his eyes briefly, then forced his lids open again. “Pa?”
The man sitting by the bed was
startled by Joe’s whisper. He stared at the boy for a minute. “No, I’m not your
Pa, son,” he said slowly.
Joe’s muddled brain didn’t understand
the words but he heard what he thought was a familiar deep voice. “Pa,” he said,
his voice more urgent. “Pa, help me.” Joe winced and grunted as a new wave of
pain wracked his body. “Pa….it hurts…please…Pa…help me,” begged Joe.
Joe turned his face toward the figure
by the bed. He moved his hand, reaching out until he felt an arm. He clutched
the arm weakly. “Pa… I’m sorry…I’m sorry about…what I said,” said Joe in a
breathless whisper. “Please…help me…I’m sorry…please…it hurts bad.”
The man stared at the boy in the bed.
He knew the boy was delirious; his eyes were bright with fever and his speech
slurred and disjointed. But the man also could see the pleading look on the
boy’s face, and he could hear the boy begging for comfort.
The man put his hand over the boy’s
hand. “It’s all right, son,” he said in a soothing voice. “I forgive you.
Everything is going to be all right now.” He patted the boy’s hand lightly.
“Pa?” said Joe again as he heard the
deep timber of the voice if not the words. “Pa…don’t leave me…don’t…” Joe’s
voice faded away.
The man patted the boy’s head, and
brushed the damp curls of hair from the boy’s forehead. “I won’t leave, son,” he
said softly. “Your Pa’s here. Don’t worry. I’m here.”
The man felt the boy’s hand slip from
his arm, and he saw the boy’s eyes close. The boy’s chest was rising and falling
with a steady regularity that indicated the boy had slipped back into the
darkness of sleep. The man sat back the in the chair and closed his own eyes.
“Lord,” he prayed softly. “You brought this boy to me. Don’t take him away
again. Please. Don’t take him from me.”
*******************
Joe slowly opened his eyes, a task
that seemed incredibly difficult. He felt as weak as a newborn kitten, and both
his side and leg throbbed with a dull ache. Joe’s eyes scanned the room,
searching for some clue which would tell him where was.
Plaster covered the walls of the
rather large room. Joe saw a window with shutters on the far wall, and a small
dresser just to the left of the window. A bookcase, half filled with books,
stood next to the dresser. Joe turned his head a bit and saw a small fireplace
on the side wall. He turned his head toward the other side of the room. He could
see a door, partially open, a few feet away. A table stood next to the bed, the
top of which was covered with a pan, cloths, cups and a small teapot. A chair
sat next to the bed, and that’s what drew Joe’s attention. The chair and the man
sleeping quietly in it.
Joe studied the man, wondering who he
was. He reminded Joe a bit of his father – about the same age, same thick white
hair, same tan vest. The man’s chin rested on his chest, and Joe could hear the
sound of a faint snore.
The groan must have wakened the man
in the chair, because he instantly sat up. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the
figure in the bed. For a moment, the man looked puzzled, as if he were surprised
to see Joe. Then a warm smile crossed the man’s face. “Good morning,” said the
man in the chair. “How are you feeling?”
“Hi,” replied Joe weakly. He turned
his head a bit. “Where am I?”
The man ignored Joe’s question as he
reached down and felt Joe’s forehead. “Your fever’s down,” he said with a nod of
satisfaction. “You had me pretty worried last night. But I think you’re going to
be all right, now.” The man studied Joe for a moment. “You thirsty?” he asked.
“Yeah, I am,” responded Joe with a
weak nod.
The man turned to the table next to
the bed. “The tea’s gone cold, but it’s wet and it’s good for you,” he said as
he poured a light brown liquid from the teapot into one of the cups. He turned
back to the bed and handed the cup to Joe. “You drink this,” he ordered the boy.
Joe took the cup and put it to his
mouth. He sipped the liquid and instantly made a face as he tasted the bitter
brew. “What’s this?” he asked.
The man laughed at Joe’s expression.
“Willow bark tea,” he answered. “I know it doesn’t taste very good but it will
help bring your fever down. You drink it.”
Gamely, Joe took another drink from
the cup. He wrinkled his nose at the bitter taste but he swallowed the tea.
“Thanks,” said Joe as he handed the cup back to the man. He watched as the man
put the cup back on the table. “Where am I?” asked Joe when the man turned back
to the bed. “Twin Pines?”
The man gave a short laugh. “No,
son,” he replied. “You’re about as far up the mountain from Twin Pines as a man
can get?”
Joe’s eyes widened in surprise and he
glanced around the room again. The room had given him the impression that he was
in a house, not some cabin in the mountains, and his glance confirmed the size
and comfortable furnishings in the room.
The man saw Joe’s expression and
smiled. “This isn’t like any other place in these mountains,” he said. “I built
a fine, big house out here in the middle of the wilderness.”
Joe nodded slowly. “How did I get here?”
“I found you yesterday afternoon in
the woods,” answered the man. “You were just laying there on the ground, your
leg caught in a bear trap. When I got you out, I saw the bullet wound in your
side. You were in pretty bad shape, so I brought you to my place.” The man
looked at Joe with curiosity. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Closing his eyes for a minute, Joe
tried to remember clearly what had happened to him. “Some fellow tried to rob
me,” Joe replied slowly He nicked me with a bullet. I was trying to make it to
Twin Pines. I fell and got caught in the trap.” Joe was too tired to give more
than the bare bones of what happened.
“I figured it was something like
that,” said the man with a nod.
Joe tried to move his leg and winced
at the pain. “My leg,” he asked, “is it broken?”
“Well, I don’t know for sure,”
admitted the man. “I couldn’t feel any broken bones, but those teeth probably
nicked the bone at the very least. Could be a slight fracture. One way or the
other, you’re not going to put any weight on that leg for awhile.”
Too tired to really take in the full
meaning of the man’s words, Joe merely nodded
The man could see the boy was tiring.
“We’ll talk later,” he said. “You need some rest.”
Joe nodded his agreement. “By the
way, my name’s Joe Cartwright,” added Joe in a weak voice.
“Name’s Tyler,” replied the man. An
odd look flickered across the man’s face. “You can call me Pa if you’d like.”
Joe frowned, “Pa?” he said in a
puzzled voice.
“Paul,” corrected the man quickly.
Joe’s face cleared and he nodded.
“It’s nice to meet you, Joe
Cartwright,” said Paul with a smile. The odd look flickered across his face
again. “I’m very pleased to have you here.”
“No nearly as pleased as I am to be
here,” replied Joe with a tired smile. He blinked slowly; his eyelids were
feeling heavy and a weariness seemed to be seeping through him. “Thank you,
Paul,” he said in a low voice as his eyes began to close. “Thank you for saving
me.”
Paul shrugged off Joe’s thanks. “You
get some rest,” he said as he stood and turned to leave the room. Paul stopped
by the door and looked back to the bed. Joe’s eyes were closed and his chest was
rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep. “Welcome, son,” he said
softly. Then he turned and left the room.
***************
A hand gently shaking him woke Joe.
He twisted a bit on the bed, trying to escape the hand that wanted him to leave
the comfortable cocoon of sleep. The hand shook him a bit harder, and Joe
reluctantly opened his eyes.
Paul stood over the bed, his face
creased with concern. “Joe, you awake?” he asked worriedly.
Joe nodded sleepily in response, then
winced as his movement sent a pang of pain from his side. Joe caught of whiff of
something that smelled appetizing and his stomach rumbled in response. Joe
licked his lips as he opened his eyes wider.
“You’ve been asleep for a couple of
hours,” said Paul with a relieved smile. “I was getting worried.” Paul cocked
his head toward the table by the bed where a bowl with steam rising from it sat
waiting. “I thought you might be hungry, so I made you some soup.”
Pushing himself up a bit on the bed, Joe smiled. “I’m starved.”
“Young fellows your age generally are
always hungry,” said Paul as he reached for the bowl. Paul turned back to the
bed with the bowl in his hands, then hesitated. “Think you can manage this by
yourself?” he asked Joe.
Nodding, Joe reached for the bowl.
The bowl was made from wood, wide and thick but not very deep. A wooden spoon
rested in the bowl, with only its handle visible. “Smells good,” said Joe as he
grabbed the spoon.
“Broth with some bits of chicken and
rice in it,” said Paul. “I figured you weren’t ready for solid food, but you
need something more than just broth in your stomach.”
With a tentative lick, Joe tasted the
soup. “This is really good,” he said and began spoon the soup into his mouth
quickly.
“I’m a pretty fair cook,” said Paul
with a shrug. He settled back in the chair, obviously meaning to keep Joe
company as he ate. “Where are you from, Joe?” he asked.
“I live on a ranch near Virginia City
with my Pa and two brothers,” answered Joe. His reply was slightly muffled as he
tried to eat and talk at the same time.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,”
said Paul. He flushed and looked away. “Sorry,” he said in an embarrassed tone.
Joe grinned. “Don’t worry,” he said.
“My Pa is always telling me the same thing.”
Paul gave Joe a speculative look.
“You did some talking last night when you were out of your head with fever,” he
said. “Kept mentioning your Pa and saying you were sorry. You two have a fight
or something?” Paul flushed again. “Sorry if it sounds like I’m prying.”
“No, it’s all right,” answered Joe.
He took another spoonful of the soup and made sure he swallowed it all before
going on. It gave him a minute to think about how to answer Paul’s question. “I
had an argument with my Pa and brothers before I left for Twin Pines. I guess it
was on my mind. When I left, things were still kind of tense.”
“If I’m not being too nosy,” said
Paul, with a small smile, “what was it about? I’m just curious. If you don’t
want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”
Joe thought a minute and then
shrugged. “No reason not to talk about it,” he said. “It’s kind of hard to
explain. I’m the youngest in the family. Lately, it just seems like every time I
turn around, there’s my Pa or brothers telling me what to do or checking up on
me. We argued about it before I left. I just can’t seem to get them to realize
that I’m not a kid any more.”
Paul smiled a bit a Joe’s words. To
Paul, the young man in the bed looked hardly more than a boy. But he understood
a young man’s desire to be thought of as an adult, to be able to do things on
his own.
“My Pa told me to take some time on
this trip,” added Joe. “I think he wanted me to try to work things out in my
mind. The only problem is, I can’t seem to come up with an answer. Every time I
think of Hoss and Adam, I seem to get mad all over again.”
“Hoss and Adam?” said Paul raising an
eyebrow. “Those your brothers?”
“Yeah,” said Joe. “My older brothers.
And they never let me forget they’re older.”
Paul nodded. “I can understand how
people might get under your skin sometimes. That’s why I came up here. To get
away from people.”
“And I dropped in on you, sort of,”
said Joe. He smiled ruefully. “Sorry.”
“I said people,” replied Paul with a
laugh. “I think I can handle one person.” Paul bit his lip and his face grew
serious. “Joe, you said you had a run in with somebody who tried to rob you,”
said Paul. “What happened to that fellow?”
Joe looked down into the bowl. The
soup was virtually gone, which was good because Joe suddenly lost his appetite.
“I killed him,” said Joe in a quiet voice. “He went for his gun and so did I. I
guess my aim was better.”
A sympathetic look crossed
Paul's face; he could see that Joe
was bothered by the thought of killing a man. He leaned forward and put a
comforting hand on Joe’s arm. “A man has a right to defend himself, son,” he
said softly. Joe nodded but his face with filled with regret.
Sitting back in the chair, Paul said in a very quiet voice, “So no one knows where you are.,”
Joe wasn’t sure he heard the words
correctly. “I guess I’m going to need to let my family know what happened,” he
said.
Reaching over, Paul took the empty
soup bowl from Joe. “We’ll talk about that later,” he said. Paul looked at Joe,
his expression somewhat grim. “Joe, I’m going to have to change the bandages on
your leg and side,” he said. “I also need to clean out those wounds again with
alcohol.” Paul looked pained. “It’s going to hurt, son. I’m sorry. But I don’t
know what else to do.”
Joe swallowed hard and nodded.
“I’ll make you some willow bark tea
later,” said Paul with a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sure you’ll
like that.”
“Gee, thanks,” said Joe, his voice
tinged with sarcasm.
“Always happy to oblige,” replied
Paul with a grin.
Putting the bowl on the table, Paul
reached for some cloth and a tall clear bottle sitting at the back of the
table. He stood and walked around to the other side of the bed. “I’ll be as
gentle as I can, Joe,” he promised. “But it’s going to sting. You go ahead and
yell if you want. There’s nobody around to hear you.” Joe’s face grew serious
and he nodded.
Paul sat on the edge of the bed and
pulled back the covers a bit. He untied the cloth around Joe’s waist and gently
lift the thick bandage from Joe’s side.
The wound in Joe’s side was beginning
to heal, but the edges of the wound were still red and puffy. Paul opened the
bottle and poured some the clear liquid onto a small cloth in his hands. He
looked up at Joe. “Ready?” he asked. Joe closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and
nodded.
To Joe, it felt like Paul was
sticking a hot poker into his side. He pressed hard against the bed and clutched
at the sides of the pillows with his hands. The burning pain seemed to get
worse, and Joe gasped for air, letting out a groan as he did so.
“All done,” said Paul in a quiet
voice as he began to bandage Joe’s side again. Joe nodded and tried to relax.
The burning was beginning to ease a bit but it was still painful.
“Your side is healing nicely,” said
Paul as he pulled up the covers. “I don’t think I’m gong to have to clean it out
again.” He turned on the bed and pulled the covers off Joe’s heavily bandaged
leg. Paul looked at injured leg then turned back to Joe. “I’m sorry, boy,” he
said regretfully. “I wish I didn’t have to do this to you.”
Joe’s eyes were closed and beads of
sweat were visible on his forehead. “Just get it done,” he said through clenched
teeth.
Nodding, Paul began to unwrap Joe’s
leg.
Dreading the next wave of burning
pain, Joe waited with closed eyes. ,He didn’t have to wait long. It seemed like
only a few seconds before his leg seemed to be on fire.
Joe began to moan and twist on the
bed. He felt a hand grip his leg just below the knee to hold it still. Joe tried
not to move, but he couldn’t stop himself from thrashing around as he tried to
escape the
After what seemed a lifetime, the
burning seemed to ease a bit and Joe felt his leg being gently wrapped. He
quieted his body and laid still on the bed, exhausted. He heard Paul moving
around the room, but Joe didn’t have the strength to open his eyes. He felt a
cloth brush against his forehead and cheek, then felt a hand brushing the hair
from his forehead.
“I’m sorry, Joe, I really am,” said
Paul. “You rest for awhile. You’ll feel better after you’ve had some sleep.”
Nodding with his eyes still closed,
Joe tried to relax his body and was surprised to find he could. He felt peaceful
darkness of sleep rapidly overtaking him.
Joe was almost asleep so he wasn’t
sure he heard Paul’s next words correctly.
“Go to sleep, son,” said Paul. “I’ll
watch over you. Paul’s here.”
Funny, thought Joe as he drifted off
to sleep. It almost sound like he said Pa’s here.
***************
Two days of sleep and solid food made
Joe feel almost human again. His side felt stiff and his leg still ached a bit,
but Joe was able to maintain an almost normal cycle of eating and sleeping. Paul
was with Joe much of the time when Joe was awake, talking or playing chess with
him. He gave Joe a book from the bookshelf to read, something to entertain Joe
when Paul was cooking or looking after the stock.
As Joe’s body grew stronger, so did
his curiosity about Paul. The man was obviously intelligent and well-read. He
discussed books with Joe as easily as he talked about politics. His chess
matches with Joe were mostly one-sided, easily won by Paul. He admitted to Joe
that he had carved or built most of the items in his house.
Joe wondered why Paul had hidden
himself away in the mountains. Paul seemed to enjoy the trappings of
civilization – books, good food and fine furniture – but he didn’t seem to have
much desire to be around people. Joe tried to think of a way to ask Paul about
his living in the mountains alone, but he couldn’t come up with a question that
didn’t seem like prying.
Paul was checking the wounds on Joe’s
leg. Joe figured he had been in bed about four days. He was beginning to chafe
at the inactivity.
“Leg is looking good,” comment Paul
as he wrapped the bandages tightly.
“No more alcohol treatments?” asked
Joe.
“No,” said Paul. He looked almost as
relieved as Joe at the fact that the uncomfortable treatments could stop. “I
think all you need now is some time to heal. I figure about another week in bed
and maybe two or three on crutches. I’ll make you a pair,” said Paul as he
walked over to settle in the chair by the bed.
“Paul, I can’t stay here another
three or four weeks!” protested Joe.
“I don’t see that you have much
choice, Joe,” replied Paul in a quiet voice. “You won’t be able to put any
weight on that leg for a while, not without risking doing some more damage to
it.”
“I hate to impose on you for another
month,” said Joe. “You’ve done so much for me already.”
“I don’t mind at all,” said Paul with
a smile. “It’s nice having someone to talk with.” Paul looked away. “I’ve gotten
lonely over the past few months. Nobody to talk to except Lucifer.”
“Who’s Lucifer?” asked Joe with a
frown.
“Lucifer’s my dog…sort of,” replied
Paul with a grin. “I found him in a trap, just like I found you. Must have been,
oh, a year or so ago. Lucifer doesn’t like people much either. After I fixed him
up, he refused to come back into the house. I leave food for him outside.
“What do you do on your ‘little
trips’?” asked Joe curiously.
“Oh, sometimes I hunt, sometimes I
fish, and sometimes I just ride,” answered Paul vaguely.
“You’re not a trapper?” said Joe with
surprise. “I figured maybe that’s why you lived up here.”
“I hate those traps, Joe,” said Paul
almost fiercely. “I’ve seen what they do to animals.” He looked at Joe with a
wry smile. “I’ve seen what they can do to people.” Paul’s face turned serious
again. “Every time I find one, I spring it shut.”
“That won’t make you popular with the
trappers who put them out,” pointed out Joe.
“Probably not,” said Paul with a
shrug. “But I don’t particularly care if they like me or not.” Paul suddenly
grinned. “Besides, they don’t know for sure that I’m the one springing them.”
“What do you do up here, Paul?” asked
Joe, his curiosity growing. “I mean, if you aren’t up here to trap, why do you
live here?”
Paul chose to answer only Joe’s first
question. “I do whatever I feel like,” said Paul. “When I get up in the morning,
if I feel like fishing, I go fishing. If I feel like making furniture, I make
furniture. If I don’t feel like doing anything, then I go back to bed.” He
looked seriously at Joe. “It’s a good life, Joe. No one to tell you what to do
or how to do it. And there’s no one to criticize or look down on you.”
For a moment, the thought of such a
life had an allure for Joe. He thought about doing whatever he wanted, about
having no one second guessing everything he did. It did seem like a good life.
“But it’s lonely up here for you,”
said Joe.
Paul looked down, as if trying to
decide how to answer. “I haven’t always been alone,” he said slowly. “My son
lived with me. He was about your age. In fact, you remind me of him – young,
smart, full of life. When David was here, I wasn’t lonely at all.”
“Where’s David now?” asked Joe.
A pained looked crossed Paul’s face.
“I…lost him…about six months ago,” he said in a low voice.
“I’m sorry,” said Joe, his voice
filled with sympathy.
Paul nodded, then cleared his throat.
“Well, how about a game of chess?” asked Paul with a forced heartiness.
Joe didn’t answer. His thoughts were
elsewhere. “Paul,” he said, “I’ve got to get word to my family about what
happened, where I am. They’re going to worry if I don’t.”
A startled look crossed Paul’s face.
“How do you propose we do that?” he asked. “I don’t exactly have a telegraph up
here.”
“I thought maybe you could travel
down to Twin Pines and send a wire,” suggested Joe.
The startled look now turned to alarm
on Paul’s face. “I can’t go down to Twin Pines,” he said. “I can’t leave you
here alone.”
“How far is it?” asked Joe.
“Takes about a day to get there,”
said Paul. “And another day to get back.”
“Two days,” said Joe thoughtfully. “I
bet I could manage on my own for two days.”
“Joe, I don’t want to take a chance,”
said Paul in an urgent tone of voice. “What if something happens? Banged up like
you are, you wouldn’t be able to fend for yourself.”
“I could manage,” insisted Joe. Now
the pained look crossed Joe’s face. “I just hate the thought of my Pa worrying.
If I don’t send word soon, he and my brothers are going to come looking for me.
They’ll search these mountains until they find me. I just hate the idea of
putting them through that.”
The look of alarm grew on Paul’s
face. “No,” he said. “We don’t want them to come looking for you. It wouldn’t be
right to have them spend all that time looking for you.” Paul took a deep
breath and seemed to be trying to control some emotion. “I guess I could go to
Twin Pines and send a wire,” he said reluctantly.
“I’ll be fine,” Joe reassured him.
Paul looked thoughtful. “What do you
think we should say in the telegram?” he asked. “If I tell your father what
happened, won’t he come looking for you anyway?”
“Yeah, I guess he would,” said Joe.
“If I tell him I got shot, he’ll be here in no time.”
“This place isn’t easy to find, Joe,”
said Paul with a small smile. “It’s not like I can tell him to turn left at the
second pine tree. He’s liable to wander all over these mountains looking for
this place.” Paul’s face grew serious. “And that’s not good. These mountains
aren’t the safest place, as you found out. Besides the men up here, there’s
bears, mountain lions roaming around. The hills are pretty steep. A man could
get hurt. We wouldn’t want that.”
“You’re right about that,” admitted
Joe.
“And I’m not going to wait in Twin
Pines for him to show up,” said Paul firmly. “I’m going to worry myself sick
leaving you here by yourself for two days as it is.”
Joe blew out a breath in frustration.
“What’ll we do?” he asked.
Paul looked thoughtful. “How about I
just send a wire over your name telling your father you got delayed in Twin
Pines for awhile. Nothing serious and you’ll explain later. That would satisfy
him, wouldn’t it. I mean that should keep him from worrying and coming looking
for you.”
Joe looked thoughtful. “Yeah,” he
agreed slowly. “It would.” He turned to Paul. “When can you leave for Twin
Pines?” he asked eagerly.
Holding up his hand, Paul laughed.
“Slow down, son,” he said. “We got to get this organized. I’ve got to cook up
enough food to last you two days. I also want to make those crutches for you.”
Paul gave Joe an almost threatening look. “Those crutches are just for an
emergency,,” he said. “I want your word you won’t use them while I’m not here,
not unless you absolutely have to.”
Joe raised his right hand. “I
promise,” he said solemnly.
“All right,” said Paul with a
satisfied nod as he rose from the chair. “I’ll start cooking and making
crutches. We’ll go over every possible contingency later today. As long as I’m
satisfied we’ve thought of everything, I’ll leave for Twin Pines in the
morning.”
“Thanks, Paul,” said Joe gratefully.
Paul waved his hand as he turned to
leave the room. “No thanks needed,” he said. “We don’t want your family
wandering these mountains looking for you, do we?”
*************
Ben sat at his desk as Adam stood
nearby going over the supply list. Ben was suppose to be listening to his oldest
son, but he wasn’t. He was thinking about his youngest son.
“Do you think 30 feet of wire, will
be enough?” asked Adam.
“What?” said Ben in a startled voice.
“Oh, yes, yes, that will be fine.”
Adam put down the supply list. “He’ll
be home soon, Pa,” he said in a quiet voice. “You know Joe. It just takes him a
while to think things through.”
“I’m not worried,” protested Ben. “I
told him to take as much time as he needed. He’s just…taking some time.”
“Sure, Pa,” said Adam. But his voice
reflected his disbelief in his father’s protest.
“Joe can take care of himself,” added
Ben, trying to convince himself more than Adam. “He doesn’t need us to be
running after him. That’s what started all of this in the first place.”
“Joe’s fine,” said Adam with a nod.
“He’ll be home any day now.”
“Of course he will,” said Ben as
positively as he could. He looked up at Adam. “Now, how many feet of wire did
you say?”
Before Adam could answer, the front
door opened and Hoss walked rapidly into the house. “Pa,” he said eagerly. “We
got a wire from Joe.”
A look of relief crossed Ben’s face.
He hurriedly stood up and rushed to where Hoss was standing. Hoss handed Ben a
piece of paper.
“Gone to Reno for awhile,” read Ben
from the paper. “Will explain later. No trouble. Be home when I can. Joe
Cartwright.”
“Reno?” said Adam in a puzzled voice.
“Why would he go to Reno?”
“Maybe something came up when he was
in Twin Pines,” suggested Hoss.
“What?” asked Adam in a challenging
voice.
Hoss shrugged. “I don’t know,” he
admitted.
Adam turned to Ben who was re-reading
the telegram. “Pa, maybe Hoss and I should go to Reno and find out what this is
all about,” suggested Adam.
Ben didn’t answer for a minute. He
looked up at Adam and Hoss, then slowly shook his head. “No,” he said. “Joe made
it perfectly clear that he doesn’t want us chasing after him or interfering.”
“But Pa…” started Hoss.
“No,” interrupted Ben in a firm
voice. “Now Joseph is old enough to take care of himself. He sent us a wire
saying there was no trouble, that he had to go to Reno. There’s no reason to
believe he needs our
“All right,” said Adam in a reluctant
voice. “I just hope Joe hasn’t gotten himself into something that he can’t get
out of.”
*************
Joe was bored.
Joe laid in bed wondering what he
could do to fill the hours until Paul returned from Twin Pines. Paul had left
for Twin Pines yesterday morning, and, at first, Joe had enjoyed having the time
to himself. He slept when he felt like it and ate whenever he was hungry,
helping himself to items from the small feast of cold chicken, cheese, berries
and cookies Paul had carefully left on the table by the bed. In between, he had
read or played chess with himself, doing whichever activity he had felt was
diverting at the time.
For a day or so, Joe had enjoyed
himself, reveling in the freedom to simply do what he pleased. He could
understand why Paul found such a life attractive. But Joe’s choices of
activities were limited, and now he was becoming bored by those choices. He had
slept so much that he couldn’t drop off even if he wanted to. He wasn’t hungry
or thirsty, having eaten his fill from the food on the table, and drank what he
wanted from the bucket of water Paul had left on the floor by the bed. The book
he had bored him, and he was tired of playing chess with himself.
Looking around the room, Joe tried to
think of something to do to fill what seemed like a long stretch of time until
Paul returned. He saw the crutches standing against the wall next to the bed. He
had promised Paul he would use them only if an emergency occurred and absolutely
had to get out of bed. Being bored wasn’t an emergency, but Joe did feel he
absolutely had to get out of bed. If he didn’t, he’d go crazy.
Throwing back the covers, Joe
carefully moved his injured leg off the bed. He swiveled on the bed until he was
sitting on the edge. A new problem suddenly struck Joe. He had no clothes. All
he was wearing was a pair of thin cotton longjohns which had been cut off and
neatly hemmed at the thighs.
Joe pushed himself up off the bed
and, balancing his weight on his good leg, hopped a step from the bed to the
crutches.
Placing the crutches under his arms,
Joe grabbed the handles jutting out of the sticks about half-way down with
either hand. The crutches were exactly right, as Joe knew they would be. Paul
had measured and fussed with them the night before he left. The top of the
crutches were heavily padded with thick cloth to insure they wouldn’t chafe.
Paul had insisted on making the crutches as perfect as he could.
Joe took a tentative step with his
good leg, then balanced his weight on the leg as he pulled the crutches forward.
He pushed his weight down on his hands and pulled the rest of his body through.
He experimented with using the crutches for a few minutes, keeping near the bed
in case he lost his balance and began to fall. After about ten minutes of
tentative and slow movement near the bed, Joe felt he had figured out how to use
the crutches. At that point, Joe decided to go exploring.
Having spent hours staring at the
walls and furniture around him, Joe knew every inch of the bedroom. He was
curious about the rest of the house. Moving slowly and keeping his injured leg
off the floor, Joe walked to the door of the bedroom. The door was slightly
ajar. He pushed the door open and went out of the bedroom.
Joe walked into a large room that was
amazingly well furnished for a house in the middle of nowhere. A large table of
polished wood sat in the middle of the room, with four beautifully carved chairs
around it. Books, pieces of wood and bits of leather were scattered around on
the top of the table. A large stone fireplace stood against the wall, with a
decorated mantle. Some small boxes and a clock sat on the mantle. A rocking
chair with a padded seat sat near the fireplace. A covered chair stood against
the far wall, next to an end table. A lamp stood in the middle of the table, and
small coils of what looked like fishing lines sat next to the lamp.
To his right, Joe could see a doorway
leading into a small kitchen. Joe could see the edge of a table and part of
another fireplace, this one with what looked like an oven inserted into it. Joe
glanced through the doorway, but decided the kitchen offered nothing of
interest.
Joe turned slightly. Near the front
door stood a tall gun rack with a place for three rifles. Only two were in
place, and Joe assumed Paul had taken the third rifle with him. Joe could see
his own gunbelt resting on a ledge under the rifles and a drawer which Joe
assumed held ammunition fitted into the ledge. The gun rack stood between the
door and a window.
On the other side of the door stood a
tall book case. Most of the shelves held books, but the two middle shelves were
almost empty. One held three finely carved wood statues of birds. The shelf in
the very middle of the bookcase was empty except for two pictures in ornately
decorated wooden frames.
Joe walked over to take a closer look
at the pictures. One was a formal wedding picture, with a much younger Paul
standing next to a dark haired girl seated to his right. She wore a long dress
and veil. Joe wouldn’t have called the girl beautiful, but she certainly was
attractive. The other picture was Paul at about his current age, standing with
his arm affectionately draped over the shoulders of a boy about sixteen. Both
were smiling at the camera and from the blurred images behind them, Joe guessed
the picture had been taken at some type of carnival or fair. Joe looked closer
at the young man. The boy’s head just barely reached Paul’s shoulder. He was
thin, with the look of being all arms and legs that teenage boys often had. The
boy’s hair was dark, thick and curly, not unlike Joe’s own. He smiled at the
camera with an infectious grin. Joe assumed the boy was David, Paul’s son.
After studying the pictures for a
bit, Joe turned to look around the house some more. He saw a closed door to his
left, exactly across the room from the door to Joe’s bedroom. He assumed that
was Paul’s bedroom. Joe ignored the closed door, feeling that entering the
bedroom would violate Paul’s privacy. He already felt a bit guilty about
exploring the house as it was.
Moving to the fireplace, Joe looked
at the small boxes on the mantle. One held matches and another, small pieces of
flint. It was the third box which drew Joe’s attention. The box was bronze with
metal scrolling on the top. He opened the box and looked in side.
A rather large decorative coin sat on
a bedding of dark velvet in the box. Joe read the lettering on the coin: Tyler
Williams, with gratitude. Joe frowned. Tyler Williams? Who was Tyler Williams?
Paul had said his name was Paul Tyler. Joe picked up the coin and turned it
over. The back of the coin simply said St. Louis Children’s Home and a date
about eight years earlier.
Joe replaced the coin and closed the
box thoughtfully. It was none of his business, he knew, but he was puzzled by
the coin. Why did Paul have a coin belonging to someone else, and why was it
displayed so prominently in the room, he wondered.
Slowly, Joe shook his head. It was
Paul’s business why he had the coin. Joe had no right to pry into the man’s
affairs. He had saved Joe’s life and treated Joe with nothing but kindness.
Snooping around Paul’s house was poor payment for all that Paul had done for
him.
Feeling guilty, Joe decided to return
to his bed. His side was beginning to ache a bit also, and his legs felt tired.
Joe had had his little adventure. Now it was time to return to the solitude of
his room.
****************
“Joseph!”
A voice boomed in anger, waking Joe
out of a sound sleep. He stirred on the bed, turning drowsily toward the voice.
“Joseph! Wake up!” the voice boomed
again.
Half asleep, Joe wondered what he had
done to make his Pa so upset. He must have overslept and missed breakfast again.
As the fogginess of sleep receded, Joe remembered where he was.
“Joe, I’m very angry with you,” said
Paul, unnecessarily voicing the anger in his tone.
Turning, Joe looked up at Paul. He
was puzzled by the irate look on the man’s face. “Hello, Paul,” said Joe with a
yawn. “When did you get back?”
“Don’t ‘hello Paul’ me,” replied the
man standing over the bed. “I thought I told you to stay in bed.”
“I did,” replied Joe. Then he flushed
as he guilty remembered his little trip around the house. “Well, mostly I did.”
“Joe, are you trying to hurt yourself
worse or do you just not understand English?” asked Paul in a biting tone.
Joe’s lips twitched as he tried to
hide a smile. Paul’s question sounded almost exactly like something his Pa would
say. “I’m sorry,”
Paul’s anger seemed to have cooled.
“The bedroom door,” he said. “I knew I left it almost closed. When I got home, I
saw it standing wide open.” Paul took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Joe,” he said
apologetically. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. It’s just that, well,
when I came home and saw the bedroom door open, it scared me to death. I thought
you had left…I mean, that something had happened.” Paul added the last phrase in
a rush, as if trying to hastily correct himself. Paul took another deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Joe,” he said again.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Joe with
a smile. “I’m used to it. Happens to me all the time at home.” Joe shook his
head regretfully. “I guess I’m just not very good at following orders.”
“Most boys your age aren’t very good
at following orders,” said Paul with a slight frown. He quickly replaced the
look with a smile that seemed almost forced. “The important thing is that you’re
all right.”
“I’m fine,” Joe assured him. “But we
do have a problem.”
“Oh?” said Paul in surprise. “What’s
that?”
“I don’t have any clothes,” said Joe
with a grin. “I realized that this afternoon when I…when I got my exercise.
Unless you want me to walk around almost naked, I’m going to need some clothes.”
Paul laughed. “Well, we can’t have
you walking around naked,” he agreed. “Not that it would bother me but you’re
liable to catch cold.”
Walking over to the chair by the bed,
Paul sat down. “Actually, the same thought occurred to me when I was in town,”
said Paul as he settled himself comfortably into the chair. “When I was buying
supplies in the store, it struck me that you were going to need some things. I
bought you a pair of pants and some shirts. Had to guess at the sizes, but I
think I got them about right.”
“Thank you,” said Joe. He shook his
head. “Seems like all I do is say thanks. Wish there was some way I could repay
you.”
“Well, there might be,” suggested
Paul in a serious voice. He saw Joe looking at him curiously. “You play
cribbage?” he asked abruptly. “I bought a board and a deck of cards, too. You
can repay me by playing cribbage with me.”
Joe had a feeling that cribbage
wasn’t what Paul originally had in mind as repayment, but he let it go. He knew
by now that Paul would tell him only what Paul wanted him to know. “I play
cribbage,” said Joe. “I’m pretty good. Much better than I am at chess.”
“That’s not saying much,” said Paul
with a grin.
Joe’s face suddenly grew serious.
“Did you get the telegram off to my Pa?” he asked. “I don’t want him to be
worrying about me.”
“Yes, I sent the wire as soon as I
got to town yesterday,” Paul confirmed. An odd look flashed across his face.
“Don’t worry, Joe,” he said. “Your family won’t be coming to Twin Pines looking
for you.”
************
Ben walked into a silent house. Adam
and Hoss had left a few days earlier to deliver some cattle to a rancher near
Reno and Ben knew he faced another lonely dinner. He put his hat on the peg by
the door and walked over to his favorite chair by the fireplace. Ben decided he
needed to do some thinking.
Initially, Ben had thought about
asking Adam and Hoss to check up on Joe in Reno, but had stopped himself.
Sending Joe’s brothers to look for him would only add fuel to the fire of Joe’s
unhappiness and anger. Ben had promised Joe that he would trust him, and Ben
was determined to keep that promise.
But his determination didn’t keep Ben
from worrying. Joe’s telegram arrived over a week ago. Ben couldn’t imagine what
was keeping Joe in Reno this long. The sheriff in Reno knew both Joe and Ben, so
if anything had happened, Ben would have heard from him. But still, Ben was
concerned. Despite Joe’s displeasure with his family, it wasn’t like him to stay
away from the Ponderosa for so long.
Sitting by the fire,
Ben wondered how long he should wait
before trying to find Joe. It was a fine line between interfering in Joe’s
business and making sure his son was all right. Joe had been gone almost three
weeks. He couldn’t think it unreasonable for a father to be concerned about his
son after such a length of time.
Ben sighed. He might think it wasn’t
unreasonable, but there’s no telling what Joe would think. Ben knew the
situation was delicate. If Joe felt that his searching for him in Reno was just
another sign of Ben’s not trusting him, it could drive a wedge between father
and son that couldn’t be removed. Ben could lose his youngest son. And that was
a risk he wasn’t willing to take.
Slowly, Ben shook his head, wondering
what to do. If it were Adam or Hoss, he would have a better idea of what was
right. But Joe was young, impetuous, and volatile. Ben just didn’t know how Joe
would react to his showing up in Reno.
When he heard the front door open,
Ben turned in surprise, and his surprise grew when he saw Adam and Hoss walking
hurriedly into the house. He hadn’t expected his sons back until tomorrow.
“You’re back early, boy,” he said in greeting. “Good trip?”
“We delivered the cattle fine, Pa,”
said Hoss. But his face wore a grim expression. “But we got a problem. We can’t
find Joe.”
“What?” said Ben in astonishment.
Then his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t go into Reno looking for him, did you?”
Adam looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, we
did, Pa,” he said. He held up his hand, stopping Ben’s angry comment. “I know
what you’re going to say. We shouldn’t have done it. But Hoss and I got to
talking on the trail. We felt something strange was going on.”
“Strange?” said Ben, his anger
replaced by concern.
“Yeah, Pa,” said Hoss. “Why would Joe
go to Reno like that? And how come he staid away so long without any word?”
“And the telegram,” added Adam. “It
was signed Joe Cartwright. Why would Joe sign his last name? He’s never done
that before.”
“It is unusual,” said Ben slowly.
“But I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation.”
“Well, we couldn’t think of one,”
said Adam. “So Hoss and I decided to swing by Reno after we delivered the
cattle. We figured a little conversation with Sheriff Brady there couldn’t do
any harm.” Adam’s face turned grim. “Brady said he hasn’t seen Joe in months.”
“We checked the hotel where Joe
always stays,” added Hoss. “He wasn’t registered there. The clerk showed us the
registration back almost three months. Joe wasn’t listed anyplace.”
“Hoss and I talked to a dozen
people,” said Adam, “people who know Joe by sight. Nobody has seen him.”
“Are you sure?” asked Ben, his
concern growing. “No one had seen him? No one at all?”
“No one,” confirmed Adam. He shook
his head. “Pa, Joe didn’t go to Reno.”
“But why would he send us that
telegram saying he was going to Reno?” said Ben in bewilderment. “And if he’s
not in Reno, where is he?”
“I don’t know where Joe is,” said
Adam, “but I have a feeling he didn’t send that telegram. That way it’s worded
and signed, well, I don’t think Joe sent it.”
Ben’s face grew as grim as his son’s.
“If Joe didn’t send that telegram and he didn’t go to Reno, he could be in some
trouble,” said Ben. He looked at Adam and Hoss. “That telegram came from Twin
Pines. First thing in the morning, we’re going to Twin Pines.”
************
Joe sat at the table playing cribbage
with Paul. He was wearing the light blue shirt Paul had bought him. It was a bit
big on him but not uncomfortable so. The black pants Paul had bought fit loosely
also, but that was a good thing. Joe’s leg was still bandaged and the looseness
of the pants made it easier to get pants leg over his bandages. Joe’s leg was
stretched out, resting on a pillow on top of another chair. The crutches were
lying on the floor near the chair.
“Game!” said Joe triumphantly as he
moved his peg to the end of the cribbage board.
“I think we need to go back to
playing chess,” grumbled Paul. “At least I can win at that.”
“I like playing cribbage” said Joe
with a wide grin.
“You mean, you like winning,” said
Paul, with a matching grin. “We need to figure out something that we’re both
good at, so at least the game is equal.”
“Or maybe something that we’re both
bad at,” suggested Joe.
Paul laughed and shook his head. “You
do keep me hopping, Joe.”
“Yeah, that’s what my Pa says,”
commented Joe with a smile. “I’m not sure he means it as a compliment.”
An odd look crossed Paul’s face for a
moment then quickly disappeared. Joe had seen the look before, usually when he
mentioned his Pa. Joe wondered about the odd look, but the expression came and
went so quickly that Joe wasn’t even sure he really saw it.
Paul began shuffling the decks of
cards. “Let’s play another,” he said.
Paul had just begun to deal the cards
when a voice called from outside the cabin. “Yo! You in the cabin!” shouted the
voice. “Come out here. We got a bone to pick with you.”
Joe looked at Paul in surprise. In
the almost three weeks he had been at the house, this was the first time Joe
could remember hearing anyone other than Paul. Paul didn’t look frightened or
startled. His expression was one of puzzlement.
Paul stood on the porch in front of
the house and looked at the two men standing in the yard. The men were dressed
as trappers. One wore a coonskin cap with a tail, and his dirty pants and shirt
were made from leather. The other man wore a dark vest spotted with stains over
a faded red shirt. His black pants were stuck into tall boots and a black had
with a wide brim was perched on his head. Both men carried rifles in their
hands.
“Can I help you?” asked Paul
politely.
“Yeah,” said the man in the coonskin
cap. “You can stop messing with our traps.”
Paul raised his eyebrows. “What makes
you think I’ve been ‘messing’ with your traps?”
“Well, somebody has been springing
them,” muttered the man in the black had.
“That’s right,” growled the other
man. “We’ve been finding our traps sprung and no animals for a while now. We
figured you must be the one doing it. And we don’t like it.”
“Why do you think I’m the one?” asked
Paul, tilting his head a bit.
“Cause you’re the only one up here!”
said the man in the black hat angrily. “Ain’t nobody else up here. And you ain’t
a trapper or anything. We seen you just riding around.”
“Gentlemen, what I do is my own
business,” said Paul. He shifted his rifle meaningfully. “Now I suggest you
leave.”
The two men exchanged glances, and
both lifted their rifles. “Them traps are important to us,” said the man in the
coonskin hat, his eyes narrowing. “We don’t catch nothing, we don’t eat.”
“Yeah, we got a right to protect
what’s ours,” added the other man.
“I’ll remember that,” said Paul
coolly. “Now, once again, I suggest you leave.”
The man in the black hat looked at
his partner and nodded his head slightly. Both men pointed their rifles toward
Paul. Paul quickly pointed his rifle back at the men.
“Maybe we’ll give you a little
something to help you remember,” sneered the man in the coonskin hat cocking his
rifle.
“I wouldn’t do that,” warned Paul,
cocking his own weapon.
The man in the black hat snorted.
“Ain’t you forgetting something. There’s two of us and one of you. Think we’ll
give you a little reminder and then see what’s in that fancy house of yours.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” said a voice
from behind Paul.
Paul glanced over his shoulder. Joe
stood in the doorway, his weight balanced precariously on the crutch under his
left shoulder. His pistol was in his right hand, cocked and pointed at the men
in the yard.
The men in the yard looked at Joe and
then looked nervously at each other. One licked his lips.
For a moment, there was no movement.
The four men pointed guns and stared at each other, each daring one of the
others to make a move.
The silence was broken by the sound
of a low growl from a small black figure standing at the side of the house.
Lucifer stared at the men, teeth bared and body tensed.
“I believe the odds are three to
two,” said Paul almost formally. “I think you’d better leave before someone gets
hurts.”
The men in the yard looked at the
snarling dog, then at the two men on the porch. The one in the black hat lowered
his gun. “Come on, Harry, let’s get out of here,” he said in a low voice.
Harry nodded and lowered his gun. He
threw an angry look at the men on the porch, then started to back away from the
house. The
Paul and Joe stood unmoving on the
porch, watching until the two men disappeared into the woods. Paul lowered his
gun, and turned toward the side of the house. “Good dog, Lucifer,” he said in a
loud voice.
Lucifer looked at Paul and gave a
small yelp. Then the dog disappeared around the side of the house.
Paul turned to Joe. “I thought I told
you to stay inside,” said Paul with a frown. “I don’t want to be patching up any
more holes in you.”
Joe shrugged and grinned. “I told you
I wasn’t very good at following orders.” His face grew serious. “Do you think
they’ll be back?”
Paul looked toward the woods
thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” he said. “Probably not. But it might not be a bad
idea to make ourselves scarce for a day or so.” He turned to Joe and smiled.
“Want to go fishing tomorrow?”
Joe glanced down. The bandages around
his leg peeked out from the bottom of his pants and his foot was bare. “I’m not
sure…” he started in a doubtful voice.
“There’s a stream not too far from
here that’s just filled with trout,” interrupted Paul. “I can get you on my
horse and have you there in no time.” Paul’s smile widened. “Sitting by a stream
holding a fishing pole never hurt anyone.”
Joe grinned in response. “Sounds
great!” he replied enthusiastically. “I have to admit I’m starting to get cabin
fever. I think I’ve forgotten what the sun feels like.”
“Then it’s agreed,” said Paul in a
firm voice but with a smile. “Tomorrow we go catch ourselves some trout for
dinner.”
**************
Ben rode his buckskin horse slowly
down the street of Twin Pines, with Adam and Hoss following behind him. Ben’s
face had a tired, worried look on it. Adam and Hoss looked grim.
Stopping his horse by the hitching
post in front of building with a large sign saying simply “Saloon”, Ben
dismounted. He tied the reins to the hitching post and ducked under the rail to
the other side then waited a moment while Adam and Hoss followed suit.
“What do you want to do now, Pa?”
asked Hoss.
“I’m not sure,” answered Ben. He
shook his head. “I was sure Ferguson would have some idea where Joe might have
gone.”
“But he didn’t,” said Adam grimly.
“You heard what he said. Last time he saw Joe was over three weeks ago, riding
out of town. He was surprised when you told him Joe never made it home.”
Ben looked around the town. “Adam,
why don’t you check with the sheriff. Hoss, you check the hotel. I’m going down
to the telegraph office.” Ben glanced at the building behind him. “We’ll meet
inside the saloon.”
Adam and Hoss nodded. The three men
starting walking, each headed in a different direction.
Less than an hour later, Adam walked
into the saloon. He glanced around the bar and saw Ben and Hoss sitting at a
table in the middle of the room. Three beers sat on the table. None of the beers
had been touched.
“Any luck?” said Adam as he slid into
a chair at the table.
Hoss shook his head. “No. Joe checked
out of the hotel almost a month ago. The clerk hasn’t seen him since.”
“The telegrapher is sure Joe wasn’t
the one who sent the wire,” said Ben in a grim tone. “When I described Joe to
him, he was positive he hadn’t seen him.”
“Does he know who did send the
telegram?” asked Adam.
“He doesn’t remember,” said Ben
glumly. “He said he’d think about it and let me know if anything came to him.”
Ben turned to Adam. “Did the sheriff know anything?” he asked hopefully.
Adam shook his head. “No. He hasn’t
seen Joe and he hasn’t heard anything that might give us a clue. The only
unusual thing that’s happened around here in a month is finding a body up in the
woods.”
Seeing the stricken look on Ben and
Hoss’ face, Adam added hastily, “It wasn’t Joe. The sheriff knew the man. Said
his name was Weaver.”
“What else did the sheriff tell you?”
Ben asked, his eyes fixed on his oldest son's face.
Adam took a deep breath, not
surprised that his father could tell he was holding something back. Ben
Cartwright could usually read his sons like a book.
“This Weaver, he was a pretty nasty
piece of work,” said Adam slowly. “Evidently, he had a history of following
people who were carrying money. Sheriff thinks he bushwhacked three or four,
although he couldn’t prove it. Anyway, the sheriff said he rode up to where the
body was found. He said there were some other tracks up there, and some dried
blood that didn’t look like it came from Weaver.” Adam shook his head. “There
was not way to tell where the other…tracks came from.”
“No sign of…anyone else?” asked Ben.
“No,” replied Adam. “The sheriff said
he looked all around the area. There was nothing to tell him who the other man
was or where he went.” Adam shrugged. “The body was almost a week dead when it
was found. Sheriff figures whoever else was up there was long gone.”
“What now?” asked Hoss.
Ben stared at the untouched beers on
the table. “We’re going to start asking questions,” he said firmly. “We’ll talk
to every person in this town if we have to. Somebody must know something.”
“And if they don’t?” said Adam.
“Then we’ll start riding, and we’ll
keep riding until we find him,” answered Ben in a grim voice.
“Pa, there’s a whole lot of land
between here and the Ponderosa,” said Hoss in a tentative voice. “Those
mountains alone could take six months to search.”
“Then we’ll spend six months
searching,” replied Ben. “We’re not going home until we find Joe.”
********************
Joe watched as the fishing line
floated lazily in the water. He was stretched out on the soft grass next to the
wide stream, leaning comfortably against a small hill. Occasionally, he moved
his fishing pole to give the hook under the water some movement, but mostly Joe
was just enjoying the pleasantly warm sun.
Sitting a few feet away, Paul's
fishing was more purposeful. He was seated upright and he moved his pole
regularly. Six trout laid on the grass next to him. Occasionally, Paul would
look over to Joe, and an indulgent smile would cross his face.
“This is the life,” said Joe as he
watched his line in the water.
“It is, isn’t it,” agreed Paul with a
smile.
“I sure am going to hate going home,”
added Joe.
Paul didn’t answer for a minute. He
moved his pole twice. “You don’t have to go home, Joe,” said Paul, not looking
at Joe.
Joe turned his head. “What?” he asked
in surprise.
“I said, you don’t have to leave if
you don’t want to,” answered Paul. He turned to Joe and smiled. “I like you,
boy. I like having you around. You’re welcome to stay permanently if you want.”
Frowning a bit,
Joe thought about the other man’s
offer, and the relaxed, almost lazy lifestyle that Paul lived. He was briefly
tempted. But after a few minutes thought, Joe shook his head. “Thanks, Paul, but
no. I have to go home.”
“Why?” asked Paul. “You told me you
were unhappy there. That your Pa and brothers treated you poorly. Why go back?
Why not just stay here with me?”
Joe looked at Paul in surprise. He
had forgotten he had told the man about his disagreement with his family. In
fact, he had forgotten about the disagreement. Looking back on it now, the whole
incident seemed petty to him. “I might have exaggerated the situation a bit,”
admitted Joe. “I didn’t like what they did, but I know they only did it because
they cared. My Pa and brothers, well, we all look out for each other. We’re
family, Paul, and you don’t turn your back on family.”
“Some people do,” said Paul in a
bitter voice.
Joe raised his eyebrows at Paul’s
comment, unsure what to say. “Why don’t you come back with me?” he urged Paul.
“You could stay at the ranch for awhile. I know you’d like my Pa. And my brother
Adam has probably got even more books than you do. You two would hit it right
off. And Hoss, well, if you think you’re a good fisherman, then you should see
my brother fish.”
“Good, eh,” said Paul, not looking at
Joe.
“The best,” said Joe with a smile.
“Come back to the Ponderosa with me, Paul.”
“I can’t do that, Joe,” said Paul,
continuing to stare at the water.
“Why not?” asked Joe. “Why do you
stay up here, Paul? Why have you cut yourself off like this?”
Paul continued to stare at the water.
He obviously was considering his answer.
“I was a teacher, Joe, a professor at
a college in St. Louis,” said Paul slowly. “I was well respected, active in the
community, had a good life. Then one night, I had an argument with my wife.
Nothing serious, just some trivial thing that we both let get blown out of
proportion. I stormed out of the house, and went to a nearby park to take a walk
and cool off. About an hour later, I came home. The front door was open. I
walked in and found my wife.” Paul turned to look at
“I’m sorry,” said Joe with genuine
sympathy.
“One of the neighbors saw the open
door,” continued Paul. “They went out and found a policeman. The policeman came
to the door and saw me bending over my wife’s body. Next thing I knew I had been
arrested for her murder. I kept telling them I was innocent but no one believed
me. No one, except my son David.”
“I sat in that miserable jail for
almost three months, waiting for a trial,” Paul said, his voice filled with
bitterness. “The only person who came to see me, besides my lawyer, was David.
None of our friends, none of my college associates, no one came to visit.”
“How did you get out?” asked Joe.
“David kept searching for someone,
anyone, who had seen me in the park that night,” answered Paul. “The police
didn’t believe my story, so they didn’t bother to look. But David did. He
finally found a young couple who admitted to seeing me. They had kept quiet
because the man was married to someone else. David finally convinced him to tell
the truth, and the woman confirmed his story. The police finally let me go.”
“What happened then?” asked Joe. “How
did you end up here?”
“My arrest made front page news,”
explained Paul. “But my release was a small story on page four. When I returned
home, I found most people were surprised to see me. My position at the college
had been taken by someone else, because the dean was sure I was guilty. Our
so-called friends avoided me. Even people on the street would point and whisper
when they recognized me from my picture in the paper.” Paul shook his head. “It
was intolerable, Joe. My life was in ruins. My wife was dead, I had no job, and
everywhere I went, people treated me like a pariah. So David and I loaded up a
couple of wagons with everything we could carry. We set off for the West,
looking for place with no people, no one who would point their finger at me and
stare. We finally ended up here.”
Paul looked away, as if remembering.
“David and I spent six months building the house. We slept in the wagons, or
under the stars if the weather was nice. We built ourselves a house that was
comfortable and had everything we wanted. And we built it where there no other
people. I vowed never to go back to the so-called civilized world. And I’ve kept
that vow.”
“Did they ever find out who killed
your wife,” asked Joe.
“No,” said Paul with a shake of his
head. “I figure it was a thief, someone who broke into the house thinking it
was empty. My wife must have surprised him and he killed her.”
“What happened to David?” asked Joe.
A pained look crossed Paul’s face.
“He’s gone now,” he said. Paul pulled his fishing line out of the water. “We’d
better head back,” he said abruptly.
“Paul, I’m sorry for what happened to
you, but you can’t stay up here forever,” said Joe. “Come back to the Ponderosa
with me. It will be different there, I promise. No one will point fingers at
you. No one will treat you with anything but respect.”
“No,” said Paul firmly.
“Paul…”started Joe.
“I said no!” shouted Paul. “Don’t you
ever listen to me, boy? I said we’re staying here and that’s final!” Paul threw
his fishing pole on the ground in an angry gesture. “I’ll go get the horse,” he
said, turning and walking swiftly up the hill.
Joe watched Paul walking over to
where the horse was tied. He felt sorry for the man. He also felt sad. Paul was
an intelligent, talented man. It was sad that the society had turned its back on
him and robbed themselves of such a man.
Paul led the horse to the hill near
where Joe sat. “I’ll help you on,” he said in a curt tone.
“I think I can manage,” said Joe,
struggling to his feet.
“Don’t argue with me, boy,” said Paul
in an angry voice. He reached out and grabbed Joe’s arm, almost pulling him up
the hill. Joe winced as he bumped his leg. Paul didn’t seem to notice. He pulled
Joe toward him.
Joe grunted as his weight shifted
onto his injured leg. “Wait a second,” he said as his a pain shot up his leg.
Paul looked startled. “I’m sorry,
Joe,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you all right?”
Joe nodded, although his leg
continued to hurt. “I’ll be all right,” he answered but his voice was strained.
“Let me help you up on the horse,”
suggested Paul. “Get your weight of that leg.” Joe nodded again.
Paul helped Joe climb up into the
saddle and made sure he was comfortable. He handed Joe the reins. “I’ll get the
poles and the fish,” Paul said, turning and walking down the hill.
Joe watched as Paul gathered the
poles and picked up the string of fish from the ground. He thought about the
flash of anger he had seen in the other man. The sudden mood change confused
Joe. It also frightened him a bit.
**************
Ben Cartwright walked into the saloon
in Twin Pines, his face grim. He saw his sons waiting for him at the table in
the middle of the room. Ben ignored the few other people in the saloon – two men
lazily playing cards at another table and two trappers standing drinking at the
bar.
“Did you find out anything?” Ben
asked as he sat down.
Adam and Hoss looked at each other.
“No,” Adam admitted. “I talked with everyone in every building on the south side
of town. No one has seen Joe since he left here a few weeks ago.”
“And I covered everything on the
north side,” said Hoss. “Same answer.”
Ben slumped in his chair. “I checked
every ranch and farm outside of town,” he said. “Nothing.” Ben looked at his
sons. “Where could he be?” he asked, knowing Adam and Hoss had no answer.
“Mr. Cartwright?”
Ben looked up to see a man walking
rapidly into the saloon. “Mr. Cartwright, I thought I saw you riding into town,”
said the man as he walked up to the table.
For a minute, Ben wasn’t sure who the
man was. Then his face cleared. “Mr. Barrett,” replied Ben in recognition. Ben
turned to Adam and Hoss. “Mr. Barrett runs the telegraph office.”
“I’ve been thinking about that
telegram you asked about,” said Barrett. “The one from your son. I finally
remembered who sent it.”
“Who?” asked Ben eagerly.
“Well, I’m not sure of the fellow’s
name,” answered Barrett slowly. “He’s kind of an odd fellow. Lives up in the
mountains. He comes to town from time to time to pick up supplies but he makes
his visits to town as short as possible. Never stays a minute longer than he has
to.”
“Are you sure he’s the one who sent
the telegram?” asked Adam with a frown.
“I’m sure,” replied Barrett
positively. “I remember last night. When he gave me the telegram to send, I was
surprised at the name. The name on the bottom of the telegram was Joe
Cartwright. But I know the fellow’s name isn’t Joe. It’s kind of a different
name, like Taylor or Tyler or something like that.”
“Did he say anything when he sent the
telegram?” asked Adam.
“Nope,” said Barrett, shaking his
head. “Just wrote it out, paid me the money and left.”
“What does he look like?” asked Ben.
Barrett rubbed his chin. “Well, he’s
about your age. White hair, white beard. Has kind of a weathered look, like he
spends a lot of time outdoors. Like I said, he lives up in the mountains
someplace.”
“Is he a trapper or something?” asked
Hoss.
“I don’t think so,” answered Barrett
slowly. “He dresses more like a rancher, than a trapper. I’ve never seen him
with any pelts.”
“He ain’t no trapper,” said one of
the men standing at the bar.
Ben turned to the man with a look of
surprise. “Do you know him?” he asked.
The man at the bar was wearing a
black hat with a wide brim, and the man next to him sported a coonskin cap.
“Harry and me had a run in with him the other day,” said the man in the black
hat. “He’s been springing our traps. We told him to stop.”
“Do you know where he lives?” said
Ben, his hope growing.
“He lives in some fancy house up in
the mountains,” replied the trapper. “He and some young fellow.”
“Young fellow?” repeated Ben. “What
does the young fellow look like?”
The trapper shrugged. “About twenty,
dark hair,” said the man. “Didn’t get a real good look at the boy.”
“That would be his son,” said
Barrett. “I’ve seen the boy with his father a time or two in town.”
Ben’s face reflected his
disappointment. He had hoped…Ben shook his head. The man or his son must know
something about Joe. It was the first glimmer of a lead. “Can you tell us how to
find this place?” he asked the men at the bar.
The two looked at each other. “It
ain’t easy to describe,” admitted the man in the coonskin hat.
“How about leading us there?”
suggested Hoss.
The man in the black hat shook his
head. “Can’t do it,” he said. “Me and Harry got to be over in Corinth day after
tomorrow. Got a job waiting.” The trapper didn’t want to admit that he had no
desire to face the two armed men in the mountains again. “We’ll do our best to
tell you how to get there.”
Adam’s face looked thoughtful as the
trappers described how to find the house in the mountains. He didn’t say
anything as Ben thanked the telegrapher and bought the two men at the bar a
beer.
As Ben settled back in his chair, he
looked at Adam. “What’s wrong, son?” he asked.
“Something that the telegrapher
said,” answered Adam. “About the man’s son.”
“What about it?” asked Hoss.
“Well, every place I went, I asked if
anything unusual had happened lately, something that seemed out of place,”
replied Adam. “I thought maybe I could pick up some clue on Joe that way. You
know, something that might mean something to us that no one else thought much
about. Anyway, the clerk at the store told me about the man the telegrapher
described. Said he was in a few weeks ago buying supplies. He also bought some
clothes.”
“What’s so odd about that?” asked
Hoss
“Well, the clerk said the clothes
were obviously for someone other than this fellow,” answered Adam. “He told me
at first he thought the man was buying some clothes for his son. But then he
decided that couldn’t be.”
“Why not?” asked Ben.
“The clerk told me the man’s son
wasn’t around any more,” said Adam. “He told me the son took a stage back East
about six months ago.”
****************
Joe sat back in his chair and gave a
satisfied grunt. “That fish sure tasted good,” he said, rubbing his stomach. “I
ate almost as much as my brother Hoss would.”
Paul didn’t answer. As always when
Joe mentioned his family, he grew silent.
Joe bit his lip, hesitant about what
he wanted to say next. “I’ve been thinking, Paul,” he said slowly. “I think it’s
time for me to leave.”
Paul’s head jerked up. “You’re not
well enough to leave,” he said.
“I can’t walk too good,” Joe
admitted. “But I sure can sit a horse. I thought if you lent me a horse, I could
travel down to Twin Pines. I can send my Pa a telegram from there, and he can
come get me.”
“No,” said Paul in a flat voice. He
stood abruptly and began collecting the plates off the table.
“Paul, I have to leave,” said Joe in
a persuasive voice. “Now is just as good a time as any.”
“You’re not leaving,” said Paul. He
banged the plates back down on the table. “You’re not leaving me alone again.”
Joe frowned. “I’ve got to leave,” he
said, his voice rising in anger. “I can’t stay here.”
“You’re staying,” shouted Paul. “You
were sent here to me and I’m going to keep you here.”
“I wasn’t ‘sent here’ to you,” said
Joe. “You found me in the woods, remember.”
“Same thing,” answered Paul. “I lost
one son. I was given another. I’m not going to lose a son again.”
“Paul, listen to me,” urged Joe.
“Don’t Pa, me,” said Paul in an angry
voice. “You never listen to your Pa. You always want to do what you want. You
want to go live in the city. I told you know but you wouldn’t listen. Well, this
time, you’re going to listen to me and obey your Pa.” Paul abruptly turned his
back to Joe.
Joe looked at the man in
astonishment. He looked up and saw the box on the mantle, remembering the name
on the coin. He frown as he thought about it, and then his face cleared as he
suddenly understood.
“Your name isn’t Paul, is it,” said
Joe. “You had me call you Paul because it sounded like Pa.”
Paul whirled around. “What difference
does it make,” he said with a frown.
“It makes a difference,” replied Joe.
He looked at the man, not sure what to call him. “I’m not your son. You’re not
my Pa.”
“I am,” insisted the man. “I’m your
Pa now. It’s time you accepted that. You’re my son and you’re going to obey me.
You’re not leaving.”
Joe pushed back the chair and stood,
putting his weight on his hands as he leaned against the table. “What happened
to your son?” he demanded. “What happened to David?”
The man stared at Joe. “He wouldn’t
listen to me,” he said. “He said he was tired of living up here all alone. I
told him that being up here was best, that he would be hurt if he was around
other people. He didn’t listen.” The man looked away. “I came back from hunting
one day and he was gone.”
“You can’t force someone to stay
where they don’t want to be,” said Joe in a quiet voice.
The man looked back to Joe. “I made a
mistake with David,” he said. “I’m not making the same mistake twice. I’m not
going to let you leave.”
The man suddenly rushed around the
table to Joe. Joe put up a hand defensively, not sure what the man would do. The
man knocked Joe’s hand aside, and grabbed Joe under the arms.
“I’m going to make sure you don’t
leave,” said the man as he began dragging Joe across the room.
Joe struggled to free himself but the
man’s grip was strong and Joe’s injured leg still couldn’t support him. As the
man dragged Joe toward the bedroom, Joe’s injured leg bounced and buckled
against the floor. Pain shot up Joe’s leg and he let out a cry of pain.
The man ignored Joe’s cry and
continued to drag him across the room. When he reached the bedroom, he pushed
Joe inside, throwing Joe to the floor. Joe yelled in pain again as his leg hit
the hard floor.
“You’re going to stay in your room
until you come to your senses,” said the man. He pulled the door shut. Joe heard
a lock click closed.
Joe laid on the floor, rubbing his
injured leg. He was confused about the turn of events. He was grateful to the
man he thought of as Paul, but his gratitude wasn’t strong enough to devote his
life to the man.
Paul was mad, insane, thought Joe.
Not the raving lunatic kind of insane, but still possessing a madness that
prevented him from seeing the truth. Paul thought that Joe was somehow sent to
replace the son who had left him, and nothing Joe could say or do would convince
him otherwise.
Joe shook his head in sadness. He
wondered if living up here all alone had caused the madness or whether it was
the ordeal of being jailed for his wife’s murder. Probably a little bit of both,
Joe decided.
Pulling himself up slowly from the
floor, Joe limped slowly to the bed. Walking still hurt his leg. Joe eased
himself onto the bed. He needed to think, to plan. He had to get away from the
man in the other room. He just didn’t know how to do it.
*************
The rattle of dishes and the loud
click of the lock woke Joe. He looked around the sunlit room in drowsy
confusion. He remembered laying on the bed in the dark, thinking about what to
do. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep.
Joe looked up as the door opened and
the man came into a room carrying a tray. “Good morning,” said the man
cheerfully. Joe’s eyebrows rose in the surprise.
“I brought you breakfast,” continued
the man, handing the tray to Joe. “Your favorite - blueberry pancakes.”
Joe looked at the plate on the tray.
Three fluffy pancakes covered in blueberries and sauce sat on the plate. Black
coffee sloshed in a cup on the corner of the tray. The food smelled good, and
Joe realized how hungry he was. Joe looked up at the man. “Thanks,” he said in a
wary tone.
The man settled himself with
familiarity into the chair next to the bed.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he said
in a contrite voice as he watched Joe eat. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like
that. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
Joe moved his leg a big and winced.
“I’m a little sore,” he admitted. “But I’ll be all right.”
“I’m sorry, really I am, “ said the
man, his voice full of regret. He looked at Joe. “I don’t want us to be
enemies.”
Joe said nothing and continued to
eat.
“It’s a good life up here,” mused the
man. “It really is. Plenty of time to fish or hunt, time to read, time to think.
A man can do whatever he wants.”
“Except leave,” said Joe.
The man frowned. “I was hoping you
had come to your senses,” he said. “I can see that you haven’t.”
“Paul,” said Joe, not knowing what
else to call the man. “I’m not going to stay here. You can’t keep me here.
Somehow, some way, I’ll find a way to leave.” Joe ate the last bit of the
pancakes. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome,” said the man. He
took the tray and stood. “Joe, you’re staying with me. You might as well get
used to the idea. It will make things easier on both of us.”
Joe looked away and didn’t answer.
“All right,” said the man with a
sigh. “I’m going to lock you in your room. I hate to do it, but it’s the only
way for now.”
Joe looked at the man and frowned. He
didn’t like the sound of “for now.” “What do you plan to do?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” admitted the man. “I
need to think about it. When I was in jail, they used leg irons to keep men from
trying to escape. The chains are uncomfortable, but they are effective.”
Joe’s frown disappeared and a look of
alarm crossed his face. “You don’t mean to chain me up,” he said.
“I don’t want to you,” the man
answered with a shake his head. “But it may be the only answer. I need to think
on it.” The man turned and walked out of the room. Joe heard the lock click on
the door.
Laying back on the bed, Joe thought
hard. Last night, he had decided to wait until his leg was stronger before
trying to escape. He wasn’t sure how far he could walk in his present condition.
But the talk of leg irons changed Joe’s thinking. He couldn’t wait. He had to
try to leave now.
Joe reached under the bed and pulled
out the boot for his left foot. He hadn’t tried to wear the boot since he had
been caught in the trap. The low half of his leg was still a bit swollen. Now,
he slipped on the sock that had been stuck in the boot, and slowly eased on the
boot. The top of the boot was tight against his leg. The swelling and bandages
pressed his leg tight against the leather.
Swing his legs off the bed, Joe
stood. He winced at the pain that resulted from putting weight on his leg. Joe
stood still for a minute, and the pain eased a bit. He took a step forward and
limped slowly across the room.
As he stopped by the window, Joe
studied it. The window was small, but big enough for him to climb through. It
stood about chest high on the wall. The shutters were half open, and Joe pushed
the shutters until they were flush against the wall.
Grabbing the bottom of the window,
Joe pulled himself up. He eased his head and chest through the window, then half
fell, and half dove to the ground outside.
Joe had tried to curl his body as he
fell, but the fall still stunned him a bit. He laid still, both to catch his
breath and to listen for any sign of detection. After a minute, he pulled
himself to his feet and started to limp across the ground toward the woods.
Joe was about ten feet from the house
when he heard the growl. He looked over his shoulder. Lucifer was standing near
the house, watching him. Joe took a deep breath and headed toward the woods as
fast as his injured leg would allow him.
Lucifer saw him continue to move and
that seemed to anger the dog. He began to bark loudly, and started to run toward
Joe. Joe started to run, moving with an awkward gait as he tried to keep as much
weight off his leg as possible.
The barking attracted the man’s
attention and he burst out of the front door of the house. He saw Joe
disappearing into the woods, with Lucifer in pursuit.
“Lucifer! Come here!” the man
shouted, fearful that the dog might injure his new son.
Lucifer skidded to a stop, and looked
back to the house. He turned to look toward the woods, obviously confused about
what to do.
“Lucifer! Come!” shouted the man
again.
The dog looked to the woods and saw
the figure disappearing through the trees. Satisfied that he had frightened off
the intruder, Lucifer turned and trotted back to the house.
The man walked down to the dog and
patted the animal on the head.
“Good dog,” he said. He looked toward
the woods, his expression suddenly sad. “Fool boy,” he said to the dog. “He
can’t get far, and he’s liable to hurt himself. I’ll have to go and bring him
back.” The man looked back to the house, indecision on his face. He gave a sigh
and walked back to the door. He reached inside and pulled a rifle from the rack
by the door. Then he turned and headed across the yard. “Lucifer, stay!” he
shouted at the dog who had begun to follow him. Lucifer stopped, then sat down
on his haunches. The man nodded briefly, then headed into the woods.
Joe walked through the thick brush as
quickly as his sore leg would allow him. He had heard the man call the dog back,
and was grateful for that. He had a feeling that if he tried to take on Lucifer,
the dog would win.
Joe was breathing hard, and his leg
was beginning to ache. He decided to stop and rest.
Resting his back against a tree, Joe
eased himself to the ground. Now that he had a minute to think, he realized he
had no idea where he was. He had no idea how to get to Twin Pines.
Joe cursed himself for his
foolishness. He should have waited, should have figured out a way to get the man
to tell him how to get to Twin Pines. He had acted rashly.
Shaking his head, Joe smiled
ruefully. Maybe his Pa and his brothers were right after all, he thought. Maybe
he really did need someone to watch over him. For sure, he hadn’t done a very
good job of watching out for himself lately.
Suddenly, Joe heard the sound of
something moving through the woods. He wasn’t sure if it was the man or an
animal, but he wasn’t going to wait for whatever it was to find him. Joe pulled
himself up and started walking, moving as quietly as he could. He glanced up at
the sun. He knew Twin Pines had been to the east of where he had been caught in
the trap. For want of a better direction, Joe headed east.
********
“Pa, we’re lost,” declared Hoss as he
pulled his horse to a stop.
Ben looked around him. The trees and
bushes grew in thick bunches and the grass was tall. There was no sign that
anyone had been in the area recently. “We must have taken a wrong turn
someplace,” said Ben.
“Those directions we got weren’t
exactly the clearest,” said Adam with a wry look.
Nodding absentmindedly, Ben looked
around again. “Let’s go back to where the trail forked,” he said. “Maybe we can
figure out where we went wrong.” He turned his horse and started back through
the trees.
Adam waited a minute for Hoss to ride
up next to him. “Don’t you think we’re going to find this place?” he asked Hoss.
“I don’t know, Adam,” replied Hoss.
“But I sure am going to try. Joe needs our help, whether he knows it or not. And
he’s going to get it.
***********
Joe walked with a painful limp
through the woods, his shirt damp with sweat. He wasn’t sure how long he had
been walking, but each step seemed to make his leg ache more. The muscles torn
by the teeth of the bear trap had only partially healed. Now weight and exertion
were
As he moved through the brush, Joe
grew thirsty, and he knew he was tiring. The pain in his leg seemed to be
sapping his strength. He thought about stopping, about simply letting the man
find him but rejected the thought. Somehow, Joe knew if he didn’t escape now, he
would never get another chance. He was more willing to face the pain and danger
His pace slowing,
Joe walked on. He was breathing hard,
and his mouth was open as his body sought more air. Rivulets of sweat ran into
his eyes, and Joe wiped them away with the sleeve of his shirt.
Joe tried to walk faster, tried to
force himself to cover more ground. He knew he wasn’t moving quietly, that he
was making enough noise that his pursuer could easily follow him. Trying to lose
the man in the woods was no longer an option. Joe’s only hope was to try to find
someplace to hide.
As he forced himself onward, Joe’s
eyes searched the woods, hoping to find something that would offer him cover.
Trees and bushes stood all around him but nothing that would offer the type of
cover he was seeking.
Joe was searching for cover and not
watching the ground. His foot hit a root, tripping him to the ground. Joe landed
with a soft thud, and laid still.
He should get up, he should keep
moving, though Joe. But his body wouldn’t obey. He was too tired, too thirsty,
too sore. So Joe simply laid on the ground and waited for the inevitable.
The sound of someone moving through
the woods was coming closer. Joe could hear the brush being moved aside. He laid
on the ground, gasping for air, and tried to reconcile himself to being caught.
“Joe!”
Joe lifted his head and turned toward
the voice. He thought he was imagining the voice. He looked up and saw his
father dismounting from his familiar buckskin horse.
“Pa?” said Joe in astonishment. He
felt tears of joy and relief filling his eyes. “Pa,” repeated Joe in an
exhausted tone.
Grabbing the canteen from his saddle,
Ben rushed over to the figure on the ground. He uncorked the canteen and handed
it to his son.
When his thirst was at last eased,
Joe lowered the canteen. “Pa,” said Joe again in a choked voice. “How did you
find me?”
“Joe, we’ve been looking for you for
days,” replied Ben, his voice equally choked. “We heard about this house in the
mountains, but we couldn’t find it. Finally, we separated. Adam and Hoss are
looking for you, too.”
Joe slumped in exhaustion and Ben put
his arms around his son’s shoulders. He hugged Joe against him. “Joe, what
happened to you, son,” he asked.
Closing his eyes, Joe wondered where
to start. “Some fellow jumped me on the trail,” said Joe. “Tried to rob me.
There was some shooting. I killed him, but he nicked me in the side with a
bullet. The horses ran off, and I started walking toward Twin Pines. Along the
way, I managed to get myself caught in a bear trap.”
Ben’s eyes widen as Joe talked. “When
did this all happen?” he asked.
“A couple of weeks ago,” replied Joe
in a tired voice. “This man found me, took me back to his place. He took care of
me.” Joe stopped, wondering how to explain the man to his father. “Everything
was fine until I figured out he wasn’t going to let me leave. Not ever.
Slowly, Joe laid his head against his
father’s shoulder. Joe felt the familiar arm around him, and he smelled the
faint aroma that was distinctly Ben. Joe’s eyes began to well with tears again
as he realized he was safe at last in his father’s arms. “Pa,” said Joe,
beginning to cry. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“I’m happy to see you, son,” said Ben
in a soothing voice. He had a hundred questions, but decided they could wait. He
could see Joe was exhausted, his face etched with pain. All he wanted to do was
take his son home. Explanations could wait.
“Take your hands off my son!”
Ben’s head snapped toward the voice
and Joe lifted his head at the sound.
The man stood a few feet away, his
rifle pointed at the pair on the ground. “I said, take your hands off my son,”
repeated the man.
Ben didn’t move. His eyes narrowed
and a hard look came onto his face. “This is MY son,” he said.
The man’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Your son?” he said in astonishment.
“Yes,” replied Ben. “I’m Ben
Cartwright. I’ve been looking for my son for a long time. Now that I’ve found
him, I’m going to take him home.”
The man hesitated, unsure what to do.
“I wouldn’t want to separate a father from a son,” he said slowly. But then a
determined look crossed the man’s face. “You have two others sons,” he said to
Ben. “I have none. None but the one you’re holding.”
“He’s not your son,” said Ben firmly.
“Yes he is,” insisted the man. “I
found him, I cared for him. He’s mine.”
“My son is not some stray dog you can
claim,” declared Ben. “He’s a boy. He has a family. He’s going back to his
family.”
“No!” shouted the man. “He’s mine! I
need him. I have to have him with me. I’ll make him want to stay with me!”
“You can’t make anyone want to stay
with you,” said Ben in a quiet voice. “Especially not a son. You have to love
your sons enough to give them room to grow. You have to love them enough to let
them go if they want to.”
The man stared at Ben as he thought
about Ben’s words. “But I don’t want to be alone,” said the man in almost a
pleading voice.
“You don’t have to be alone,” said
Joe quietly. “It’s your choice.”
The man looked at Joe in anger. “You
don’t know anything about it,” he said.
“I know you chose to live in those
mountains,” replied Joe in a tired voice. He closed his eyes and winced in pain.
Then he looked up. “It’s your choice. It’s not mine.”
The anger on the man’s face was
replaced with a pleading look. “Come home, son,” he urged Joe. “Please. Come
home.”
Joe’s body sagged against Ben’s. “I
am home,” said Joe in a barely audible voice.
The man looked at Joe and realized
his pleas were in vain. He turned to stare at Ben. The man slowly lowered his
rifle. “I was lucky enough to have your son for a little while,” said the man.
“I guess I always knew, deep down, I couldn’t make him stay.” The man looked at
Joe, then back to Ben. “You found your son. I guess now I have to find mine.”
The man turned and started to walk
back into the woods. He stopped and turned back once more. “Good-bye, son,” he
said to Joe. Then he disappeared into the woods.
******************
Ben walked from the kitchen toward
the living room. He stopped just before entering the room and smiled to himself.
Joe was stretched out on the sofa, reading. Ben watched Joe for a minute,
savoring the sight.
The memory of finding Joe in the
woods a week ago was still fresh in Ben’s mind. He could still see himself
helping an exhausted Joe onto his horse, and he could almost feel his son
resting against him as they rode slowly through the trees to meet Adam and Hoss
at the fork in the trail. Joe had slept during most of the ride to Twin Pines,
and then spent another day sleeping in the hotel room in town. Joe had seemed
unusually quiet during the ride in the rented buckboard back to the ranch, and
Ben had worried until he got his son home.
Doctor Martin had checked Joe, and
declared that a week or two of
“Joseph, take your feet off the
furniture,” said Ben as he started into the room.
Joe looked up and hastily swung his
feet off the sofa. “Yes sir,” he said quickly. Joe watched as Ben walked to his
favorite chair by the fireplace and sat down. “Where’d you go this morning?”
asked Joe curiously. “When I came down for breakfast, Hop Sing said you had gone
out.” Joe was still sleeping late, taking advantage of the opportunity to stay
in bed until mid-morning while he could. Joe knew in another week, his brief
vacation from work would be over.
“Oh, I just rode out to take a look
at that dam that Adam and Hoss are building on Willow Creek,” said Ben.
Joe grinned impishly. “It’s nice to
know I’m not the only one you check up on.”
“I was not checking up on them,” Ben
said firmly. “I just rode out to see if they had everything they needed.”
“Uh huh,” said Joe, his voice
reflecting his disbelief.
Ben looked at Joe, then smiled. “All
right,” he admitted, “maybe I was doing a little checking. It’s a father’s right
to check on his sons.” As soon as Ben said the words, he regretted them. He
looked at Joe a bit fearfully.
“Don’t worry, Pa,” Joe reassured Ben.
“It took me a while, but I finally figured out that having someone keep an eye
on you isn’t all bad. Keeps a fellow from getting himself into a heap of
trouble.” Joe’s face suddenly sobered. “Do you think Paul went looking for his
son?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Ben with a shake
of his head. “From what you said, I think that the man you called Paul was
pretty confused. I’m not sure he knows what he wants.” Ben smiled at Joe.
“Except maybe wanting you as a son.”
“Having one father is quite enough,
thank you,” said Joe. “I don’t think I could survive having two.” Joe grinned.
“There are days, I bet, when you wish you could give me away.”
Ben’s face grew sober. “No, Joe,” he
said in a serious voice. “I may get angry with you, or exasperated with you, but
there’s never a time when I wish you weren’t my son. I’m very proud and happy to
have you as my son.”
Joe flushed, a bit embarrassed at
Ben’s emotional statement. “I wouldn’t want anyone else as my father,” he said.
“Good,” said Ben with a smile.
“Because I’m always going to be your father. I might not be the best father, but
I’m the only one you’ll ever have.”
*****End*****
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