Halloween

By Anne

Breakfast this day was not the organized effort Ben or Marie Cartwright would have liked. Trying to get the two oldest boys off to school could get hectic, but today, it seemed everyone was moving in slow, slow motion. Even their youngest, four-year-old Little Joe was still in his nightshirt. He sat next to his father, yawning as he played with the scrambled eggs on his plate.

With just a hint of annoyance, Ben looked across the table. "Boys, get a move on. You’ll never make it to school on time at the rate you’re moving." Sixteen year old Adam sighed and muttered under his breath, an act guaranteed to draw this father’s displeasure. Today was no exception.

"Would you care to repeat that, young man?"

Adam raised his head slowly to speak to his father, "I said, Little Joe’s the cause of all this and here he is still in his night clothes while we’re supposed to be johnny-on-the-spot ready to go." He was clearly disgusted with the situation as he viewed it.

As Ben’s temper rose in response to his oldest son’s impertinence, he felt his beautiful wife’s calm touch on his arm. Although she was Adam and Hoss’ step mother, she found herself frequently in the peacemaker role. "Adam," she interceded, "I know Joe’s nightmares kept the entire household up most of the night and for that I apologize." She smiled what she hoped was a conciliatory smile. "But I’m not sure Mr. Lawson will view that as an acceptable excuse for being tardy." She raised her eyebrows, the decision now solidly in Adam’s camp.

Ten year old Hoss entered into the discussion. "Uh, Pa, since we was all up most of the night, why don’t we stay home and try to get some sleep?" He didn’t hold much hope that his father would agree, but it was at least worth a try.

"Yeah," chimed in Adam. "I’ll bet Little Joe’s back in bed before the morning’s out."

Marie’s sharp voice brooked no argument, as her own short temper was unleashed. "That may be, Adam, and if you’d like to take naps daily, go to bed by 7 p.m. and ride double with me our your father wherever you go, you are welcome to stay home today, too. Is that your pleasure?" Her patience was wearing thin.

Adam looked up, "No, Ma’am," he responded. "Come on, Hoss. Let’s get going." The two boys pushed back their chairs, gathered up their schoolbooks and dragged themselves out the door to their waiting horses. While undoubtedly some of the drama was for their father and stepmother’s benefit, both Hoss and Adam were exhausted. Their youngest brother’s nightmares had begun just after midnight, his screams waking the entire household. Adam had counted four of these dreams interrupting the family’s sleep, but maybe he’d slept through others.

Little Joe had been inconsolable after the last one, as Adam had been counting. Even after their father had sent them both back to bed, the two brothers could hear Little Joe sobbing; Marie and their father taking turns talking with him and, presumably, rocking him in the stuffed rocking chair by the window.

It had seemed Adam’s eyes had barely closed when his father was in his room, waking him to get ready for school. Hoss, a naturally heavier sleeper than his older brother, had slept through several of the episodes, but the last one had wakened even him. The two brothers rode in silence in the crisp October air to the schoolyard, unsaddling their horses as Mr. Lawson rang the school bell.

As the oldest two left the house, Ben turned back to his youngest son. "Well, Joseph," he began, "are you going to eat those eggs or just play with them?" He smiled at the boy, hoping his son would relax enough to talk about the nightmares. So far, Joe claimed not to have remembered any of it.

"I ain’t hungry, Pa," replied Little Joe forlornly. He continued to push the eggs around on his plate as Marie and Ben exchanged looks across the table.

"Ben, why don’t you do go on and get your work done. With the roundup coming along in a couple of weeks, you’ve got lots to get done. And with Henry out with that broken leg, you’ll need all the help you can get." She smiled lovingly at her husband. "Joe and I’ll be fine here."

"You’re sure?"

"Positive," Marie responded convincingly. "I think Adam was right in his assessment of Joe’s day anyway." She nodded her head toward the boy who was yawning, rubbing his eyes with his nightshirt sleeve.

Smiling, Ben pushed back his chair and stood behind Marie’s chair, bending over to kiss her as she leaned back her head. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Not today," she laughed, then turned around, standing as she did so. Taking her husband by the arm, she escorted him to the big door. "Will you get home for lunch?"

Ben shrugged his shoulders. "Right now, I’m not sure. Probably, but if I do, we can just grab some of Hop Sing’s leftover chicken." Pausing, he lowered his voice, "are you sure you’ll be all right with Joe today?"

Marie laughed. "We’ll be fine. I expect he’ll sleep most of the day, anyway."

After quietly closing the door, Marie leaned against it, thinking about the day. She wished, not for the first time, that there was someone with whom she could discuss her son’s sleeping problems. Little Joe had had bad dreams before, but she couldn’t remember any of this magnitude. As she tried to focus her thoughts, Marie moved back to the breakfast table, finding her son asleep, his head cradled in his arms that were crossed and resting on the dining table, his plate of uneaten eggs pushed to the side.

Marie watched for a few minutes, then reached down to pick up the sleeping boy. As she pulled him to her, he snuggled against her, his right arm around her neck and his left thumb firmly in his mouth. She carried him up the stairs, hesitating for a moment before deciding to put the sleeping boy in hers and Ben’s bed that morning. Perhaps there was something about his own room that was too disturbing.

Quietly, Marie began doing the morning chores upstairs, careful not to awaken her son as she made beds and dusted. She paused outside Adam’s room before deciding her intrusion into his privacy would be most unwelcome. Moving to Little Joe’s room, Marie paused as she surveyed the damage from the night before. The bedclothes were completely disheveled, blankets and sheets twisted as though a cyclone had passed through instead of a restless four-year-old boy.

As Marie shook out sheets to begin the task of rebuilding the bed, a piece of paper fluttered onto the floor. Curious, she picked it up, startled at how realistic was the grotesque scene before her. A man’s body lay in a bloody mess on a stone floor, obviously the victim of a vicious stabbing. His lifeless face stared up at the Roman columns around him as a big man, holding a knife with blood dripping off it, stared down at him. The text under the picture read "Julius Caesar’s last day."

As Marie turned the page over, an even more demented scene shook her senses. A woman’s body was kneeling before a guillotine while her bloody, decapitated head rested against the executioner’s foot. The caption read "Marie Antoinette’s Death."

Marie looked closer, seeing a ragged edge that indicated the page had been torn from some book. Part of last night’s mystery was revealed, but Marie was determined to find the source of that page. A thorough search of her son’s room was uneventful, though. Folding the page, she carefully slid it into her skirt pocket, then continued with the household tasks.

Marie checked on her sleeping son one last time, then hurried down to prepare lunch as the clock in the great room struck 12 times. She removed the chicken from the cool springhouse, placing it on a serving platter to take to the living room. In a few minutes, several tomatoes were deftly cut, as were slices of fresh homemade bread that Hop Sing had made before leaving for Virginia City that morning.

As she set the table for her and Ben, Marie debated setting a spot for Joseph finally deciding the boy needed to eat. She poured a small glass of milk for him, then turned to go upstairs and wake him. A sound stopped her as Ben Cartwright opened the massive front door. Greeting him with a warm smile, Marie waited as Ben put away his hat and gun, then walked to the dining area. With no interlopers to intrude, the warm kiss Ben gave reminded Marie how much she missed time alone with her husband.

Pulling away finally, she smiled at her husband. "Well, sir, what a most gallant man you are?" She laughed as her lips brushed his one more time.

"Mmmm. And what a promising welcome you provided me, woman." Ben’s tender look belied his harder words.

"Ummm," Ben looked around the room, “where is our young miscreant right now, by the way?"

Marie laughed. "He’s asleep in our bed. You, kind sir, have one of two choices. You can finish setting the table or you can wake up our sleeping beauty."

With Ben’s brow furrowed, he appeared to be making a very weighty decision. "Such a hard decision. Given the choice, though, I shall awaken our wayward son," Ben laughed.

Marie laughed with him, knowing from the beginning that he’d make that choice. She turned to finish getting lunch on the table while Ben moved quietly up the stairs. Her smile faded as she debated showing the picture to her husband. "No, not now," she decided. She needed more information from Adam or Hoss before she approached her husband. As kind and wonderful as Ben was, his temper sometimes interfered with his good judgment and the fact that Little Joe had such a violent picture that had obviously been torn out of a book by someone, might cause him to act first and think second. She’d be sure he had all the information he would need before she shared her thoughts with him.

Ben softly opened the door to his and Marie’s bedroom. The sight that greeted him brought a lump to his throat. The thick comforter covered his young son from the waist down. Even then, it was tangled and in disarray as it twisted around his legs while Joe’s nightshirt was wound around his upper body. The boy was on his back, his right arm curved around the side of his head with his left hand rested near his chin where, in his sleep, the boy’s thumb had slid out of his mouth. Soft curls framed the cherub’s face as Ben was taken away by the boy’s beautiful and angelic looks. The man smiled realizing that tender, quiet scene would dissipate as soon as his son awoke.

"Joseph," he gently shook his young son. "Joseph, it’s time to get up." He carefully picked up Little Joe, as the boy was aroused from his sleep. Walking to the rocker by the window, he sat down, holding his youngest on his lap as he quietly rocked him, rubbing his back to help him wake up.

Still mostly asleep, Little Joe snuggled against his father’s chest, his left thumb headed back to his mouth.

Ben laughed quietly. "Oh, no you don’t, young man." He gently restrained the boy’s arm. Mildly frustrated at finding his left arm immobilized, Little Joe opened his eyes to determine the problem.

Seeing his father, he smiled broadly, waking more fully. "Pa, you’re back already? Are Adam and Hoss home? Are they out in the barn? Can I help ‘em do chores?"

As Joe prepared to continue his questions, Ben placed two fingers over the boy’s lips. "Joe, it’s just lunch time now. Your brothers aren’t home from school yet." Joe’s face spoke eloquently of his reflections on that bit of information. Heading off any disgruntled thoughts, Ben added, "Let’s get you dressed, young man. Here it is, noon already and you’re still in your night clothes."

His gruff demeanor didn’t faze his youngest son who smiled back at his father, then reached up to be carried into his own room. Ben quickly debated the wisdom of this indulgence, then settled the boy on his feet on the floor. Taking him by the hand, Ben directed Little Joe into his room, efficiently helping him into his clothes. That task completed, the man swung the boy onto his shoulders, carrying him downstairs amid much giggling.

Marie looked up as she heard the two coming down the stairs. "Dinner is ready, my oldest and youngest favorite men." She smiled at the two as they moved into the dining area.

Lunch was a much livelier affair than breakfast had been, the four hours of sleep having rejuvenated the exhausted boy somewhat. While not yet back to his normal, active self, Little Joe at least participated in the discussions and ate most of his lunch.

"Hey, Pa, can I go with you after lunch?" Little Joe asked, smiling his most endearing smile.

Ben glanced at Marie whose imperceptible shake of her head confirmed his own inclination. "I’m sorry, Little Joe, but we’ve got entirely too much work this afternoon and some of it’ll be pretty dangerous." He looked at his youngest boy who was already formulating a response to his father’s arguments. "Joseph," his voice commanded his son’s attention, hoping to stop a tantrum before it began, "you will spend the day here at the house." He looked directly at the boy, his eyebrows raised, daring the boy to contradict him.

Recognizing the look as one that sanctioned no discussion, Little Joe looked to his plate. "Yes, sir," he mumbled dejectedly. Ben shook his head, knowing Marie’s afternoon would be more contentious than the morning had been.

"Goodness, Little Joe," Marie began in earnest, "with you sleeping most of the morning, we still have most of the morning chores to do. Would you rather gather the eggs first or fill the kindling by the stove?"

Appearing to contemplate an important decision, Joe joined in the game he and his mother sometimes played. Marie’s enthusiasm bolstered her son’s naturally optimistic personality. "I get to find the eggs, Ma," Joe finally announced, a wide smile across his face. "You don’t even have to come to the hen house with me." His face mirrored his complete confidence in his ability to finish the task unaided.

Marie furrowed her brow. "What about Big Red, Little Joe? He’s in the house, too?" She seemed terribly worried while working to keep the smile off her face, knowing Joe considered it a mark of pride that he could get in and out of the hen house without being flogged by the rooster.

"I can do it. Just watch." Jumping up from his chair, Joe ran toward the door, stopping as his father cleared his throat loudly.

"Joseph, aren’t you forgetting something," he asked quietly.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Can I be excused?"

"May I be excused, and yes you may." Ben shook his head as he watched the boy run out the door, slamming the big door as he went. He turned toward Marie. "I have no idea how you manage that boy, but you will surely get your crown in heaven."

She laughed as she stood to clear the table. "Practice makes perfect. Anytime you want to trade places with me and stay home all day with our son, just let me know."

"Uh, oh...looks like my cue to leave," responded Ben, smiling as he pushed away from the table. "I don’t know when I’ll get back this afternoon. We may get done fairly early if everything goes well, but don’t count on it." He stood and walked over to Marie, drawing her to him in a warm embrace. "God, I love you."

"Mmmmm," Marie responded. She pushed away from her husband finally. "You’d better get going," she acknowledged with a husky voice, "or our son is going to find us in a very compromising position."

"I’ll anticipate tonight then," Ben whispered, kissing his wife behind her ear. Regretfully, he broke the embrace, then turned to gather his gunbelt and hat. "See you later this afternoon, then." With that, he turned to the ranch work that waited him outside.

The afternoon passed fairly quickly and uneventfully for Marie and her son. She kept Little Joe busy with chores, finally putting him down for a short nap at three. Adam and Hoss, coming in from school, woke him about 45 minutes later.

"Ma, we’re home," called Hoss, effectively announcing to the world that he and Adam were back. Included in that world was Little Joe who came bouncing down the stairs from his bedroom when he realized his two older brothers were home.

As the three sat at the table, eating some cookies Marie had baked, she debated taking this time to discuss the picture she had folded in her pocket. Figuring there was nothing to be gained by waiting, she quietly cleared her throat. "Boys," she began and three pairs of eyes turned toward her as she slowly pulled out the folded picture. "I found this picture in Little Joe’s room this morning. I’d like to know where it came from."

She surveyed the three Cartwright’s in front of her. Hoss was guileless, that was obvious. Adam, who obviously had seen the picture before, showed understanding but no guilt. Little Joe’s face, on the other hand, showed a mixture of horror, guilt and fright. Marie decided to press on. Her good intentions, however, were interrupted by the arrival of her husband.

"Well," commented Ben Cartwright who had just entered the dining room after returning early from the ranch work. "This certainly seems like a solemn discussion." While wondering what was happening, he was definitely pleased to find his family together. When no on e commented, he walked to the table, picking up the paper Marie had found in Little Joe’s room. The smile on his face faded as he studied the front side of the paper; it disappeared totally when he turned the page over.

"Is there an explanation for this?" he demanded, throwing the page back onto the table surface. None of his sons made eye contact as he gazed around the room, his eyes finally finding his wife’s. The steady gaze that she returned precipitated her answer as she debated how to touch on the subject at hand.

With a deep sigh, she turned to pick up the page. "I found this in Little Joe’s room today," she began as her eyes switched from the table back to her husband "I was trying to determine how it got there." She raised her eyebrows, suggesting it was

Ben's turn to respond. "And what was the consensus?"

"Well, we really hadn’t gotten that far," Marie noted.

Ben turned to his sons, all of whom had developed a preoccupation with his own boots. It was obvious to him that Hoss had not the slightest idea what was transpiring and he decided to let him off the hook first. "Hoss," he turned to his middle son who immediately looked him in the eye. "What do you know of this picture, son?"

Hoss shook his head. "I never seen that picture, Pa. I don’t know where it came from or how it ended up in Little Joe’s room." He spoke so earnestly that there was no doubt about his sincerity.

"Fair enough." Ben turned to his oldest son. "Adam, let’s hear from you next. Do you know anything about his picture or how it ended up in your little brother’s room?

"Yes, sir, I do know something about that picture." He stopped there, his mind working quickly as he tried to formulate a neutral response...one that would protect his younger brother while keeping Adam out of the firing line as well. He glanced at the fireplace, rubbing the back of his ear as he did so. This would be tricky.

"I’m waiting, son." Ben’s patience was wearing thin, that was obvious.

"Uh, the picture was in a history book that was one of the books Grandpa sent in that crate from Boston." That seemed like a safe enough answer and was certainly the truth, albeit hardly the whole truth as he father liked to hear.

"And you showed a gruesome picture like that to you brother?" Ben’s voice raised several decibels.

"Well, no, sir, I didn’t." He hoped his father wouldn’t pursue that line of questioning.

"Did you give the book to your brother?" Ben’s voice was demanding as he continued.

"Uh, no, sir."

Ben’s voice reverberated around the room. "Then how is it Joseph had this picture in his room?" Any more evasive answers on Adam’s part were now fraught with peril.

A small voice next to Adam removed the oldest sibling from the hook on which he was quickly impaling himself. "I took it, Pa."

Ben turned to his youngest son. "Let me see if I understand this right, Joseph. Adam didn’t show you the picture, yet you knew he had it so you could tear it our of a history book that he didn’t give you?" It was clear Ben did not find the explanation he was hearing a satisfactory one.

His gaze encompassed his oldest and youngest sons. "You two have about 1 minute to come up with some answers that make sense." He paused for a moment, then continued. "Adam, you first. And this time, I want the whole truth." He emphasized the word, "whole."

Adam mind quickly considered all the options, finally deciding that the truth was the only way out of this interrogation. He glanced at Little Joe, hoping the boy would understand. He took a deep breath and began. "Well, Grandpa sent that crate of books and when I went through it, I found this old, old history text." He paused in his delivery, then, shrugging his shoulders, plowed onward.

"Well, Ross was over three or four days ago and we were up in my room so I showed him the pictures in it." He looked up at his father, feeling a little foolish. "The pictures are pretty gruesome, but I knew Ross would love them. Anyway, Little Joe came in and wanted to see the pictures."

Ben was not prepared to let his oldest son off the hook just yet. "If you knew your little brother was coming in, Adam, why didn’t you just put the book up until a later time?"

Adam was decidedly uncomfortable under his father’s questioning. "Uh, Little Joe doesn’t usually knock, Pa."

Ben considered this piece of information. "None the less, there’s no excuse for allowing your four-year-old brother to look at these pictures."

"Well, no, sir. I, uh, I didn’t allow him to see the book, Pa. In fact, I told Little Joe this kind of book wasn’t one for him to look at and I put it up on the top shelf above my desk." Adam risked a quick glance at his younger brother who was sitting in his chair, staring at the floor like man condemned.

"Then exactly how did he get this picture, son?"

Adam shrugged his shoulders. "I, uh, I uh, I don’t know, Pa. I just know I didn’t give it to him." There, it was out and Adam could relax.

Ben Cartwright paused digesting the information he’d just heard. He knew his oldest son would never lie to get one of his own siblings in trouble, so he fully believed the report he’d just received. Still, he had to give his youngest son a chance to explain. He turned his head slowly until he was facing the smallest Cartwright.

"Joseph, do you have anything to add to Adam’s recollection."

The boy didn’t raise his head, but instead, merely shook it from side to side.

Ben looked at Marie, then continued. "Well, son, there is one thing I’m still not clear about." He paused, hoping his son would look up. When that was obviously not going to happen, he took his fingers under his son’s chin, lifting his face until the boy made eye contact. "How did you get the picture?"

Joe tried to look back down at the floor, but with his father’s hand under his chin, it was quite impossible. "I’m waiting, son."

Joe squirmed as his father’s constraint forced him to maintain eye contact. "I, um, I...” He finally stopped stuttering long enough to reply. "Yesterday, when Adam was gone, I went up in his room and when I stood up on his bed, I could just reach that book and I did." He took a deep breath, before continuing. I, uh, uh, uh, I uh found the page and, and, and, I uh, it tore out," he finished his last few words very quickly. There was no sympathy in his father’s face when the boy finally met his father’s gaze directly.

"Let me see if I understand you, Joseph. You’re telling me you went, uninvited, into Adam’s room when he was gone, took a book he expressly told you were off limits and then did damage to that book by tearing out the page you were sure he didn’t want you to see? Do I understand that correctly?"

The boy longed to look to Hoss or his mother for support, but his father wouldn’t relinquish his hold. "Yes, sir," he whispered softly. There was nothing else to say.

Ben considered all he’d heard, pausing as he thought it through. For the boy in front of him, it seemed an eternity. "Joseph," he finally continued, "go upstairs now. You and I will continue this discussion in your bedroom." He finally released his son’s chin.

Joe slowly stood up, pushing his chair away from the table as he did so. He backed away from his family, then, turned and ran up the stairs into his room. Ben glared at his other two sons. "Don’t you two have barn chores this afternoon?" he queried briskly.

Hoss and Adam glanced at each other, then quickly exited the house, glad for a chance to escape the tension filled room.

As Ben turned to go upstairs, Marie’s voice detained him. "Ben," she began.

He turned around, shocked at the sadness in her eyes. He held her gaze for a moment, then sighed. "Marie, I’m not going to take a belt to him."

"He’s only 4, Ben."

"He’s almost 5. And he will learn to respect other people’s property and privacy. A short session over my knee should remind him whenever he’s tempted to ignore that common rule of courtesy."

Marie moved next to her husband, her fingers caressing his arm. Ben smiled at her, hoping he could raise her spirits, but where her son was concerned, it would probably be a hopeless task. Trying to reason with her, he began again, "You and I both know Joseph is no respecter of his brothers’ things. I’ve talked to him about it and you have, too. Adam and Hoss have a right to know their secrets are safe from prying eyes...ours or their little brother’s."

Marie pulled herself close to her husband. "Oh, Ben, I know. He just seems so small. And he’s not spiteful, he’s just impulsive."

"He needs to learn," spoke Ben softly, wrapping his arms around her. He looked down at his wife’s lovely face, kissing her gently over her closed eyelids.

Sighing, she nodded her head as she broke from their embrace. "I’ll see if Hop Sing needs any help with dinner." She squeezed Ben’s arm before disappearing into the relative sanctity of the kitchen.

Pausing to gather his thoughts, Ben slowly walked upstairs, knocking once on his son’s door before going inside, quietly closing it behind him.

Little Joe looked up from his bed as his father entered the room; standing respectfully, as he knew was warranted. "Joseph, your mother and I have both talked to you about respecting other people’s things, haven’t we?"

When Little Joe didn’t answer, Ben took a deep breath, then moved to sit on the side of the bed, motioning his son to stand before him. "I asked you a question, son. Do you remember those talks?" This time, the boy nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"I want you to think about what happened, Joseph. Your disregard for your brother not only has given you nightmares; it kept the entire household up last night. So that you could have your way, the rest of us have suffered for it." Little Joe continued to stare at the floor, unable to make eye contact.

"You did wrong, Joseph and I want to be sure you understand what that was." He paused as he looked at the dejected boy. "I want your full attention, son." Ben waited as his child slowly transferred his gaze from the floor to his father.

"You did three things wrong. Can you tell me what they are?" When Little Joe didn’t respond, Ben continued. "First of all, you entered Adam’s room when he was not there. Secondly, you took a book he had expressly told you he didn’t want you to have." Little Joe cringed with each pronouncement from Ben’s deep voice. "And thirdly," he paused for emphasis, "you purposefully tore a page out of that book, damaging your brother’s property." He watched as the boy’s eyes dropped back to the floor.

Ben lifted Joe’s chin until, once again, the boy was forced to make eye contact. "Do you understand now how wrong that is?" His son, unable to speak just then, simply nodded affirmatively.

While he had the boy’s attention, Ben continued. "You are going to be punished, Joseph." He watched as the boy’s mouth twitched once. "And you will apologize to your brother before the day is out." His hard voice softened then. "And son, when you’ve done that, it’s over. No one will ever bring up today’s problems again. But I expect you to learn from them. Is that understood?"

Little Joe nodded his head again, tears already welling up in his eyes. Not wanting to prolong the boy’s discomfort, Ben positioned him across his knee to administer four firm swats before he finished, standing the sobbing boy back on the floor when he was done.

"We’ll talk later, Joseph. And I’ll see you at supper." That said, he squeezed the boy’s shoulder tenderly, then turned and walked out of the room.

Marie removed her apron and folded it carefully over a dining chair seated against the wall. She surveyed the peaceful scene in the great room where her family gathered while waiting for dinner. Adam sat reading in one chair by the large fireplace while Hoss and Ben were engaged in a game of checkers near the sofa. As Marie moved behind her husband, her arm slid down his in a loving, protective gesture. "Hop Sing says supper will be ready in about 20 minutes."

Ben looked up, surprised when Marie reached around to give him a brief kiss on the lips. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" he queried.

"Oh, I’ve never been able to resist a tall, handsome cowboy," she answered lightly.

"I’ll remember that," he laughed.

"How about remembering our youngest son, too, and having him come down for supper?"

Ben smiled. "Hoss and I were so enjoying a peaceful game of checkers without all Joe’s side comments that I hadn’t realized how late it was. Adam," he motioned to his oldest son. "Would you get your brother for supper?"

Adam marked his place, then set aside his book. "Sure, Pa." While he wasn’t looking forward to this, Adam realized his father intended the two brothers to take this time to talk about this afternoon.

Adam knocked twice, then entered after he heard his brother’s muffled response. His heart was touched by what he saw. Seated in the stuffed rocker that Joe had maneuvered even closer to the window, the boy was curled up with his right thumb secured firmly in his mouth while his left hand grasped the large crib quilt Marie had so lovingly made for her son years ago. Its bright yellows, reds and oranges were pieced in no apparent pattern, yet created a feeling of warmth and fun; much like Marie and Joe’s personalities, Adam reflected.

As he stood there, emotions, feelings, smells and memories overwhelmed the oldest Cartwright sibling. He was in a dingy room in Cincinnati as a young boy while a loud crowd gathered below the window. While seemingly after someone else in the boarding house, his father, taking no chances, was seated before the door, a shotgun over his lap. Adam was curled on top of the bed; the crib quilt his mother had made before he was born tucked tightly in his arms. The rich, deep blues and purples, set in a complex geometric pattern had provided much comfort to the small boy.

"Hmmm. Where is that quilt?" Adam mused.

As the young man let the emotions flow through him, he was in St. Louis, again in a cheap hotel. The boy had a bad case of measles and in his misery, was sure he would die. The beloved quilt was pulled against his chest and his mother’s healing touch was evident. Three days later, when the boy was feeling much better, his belief that the quilt would always protect him was complete.

"Damn, I know it’s somewhere." Adam tried to think where it had been put.

But then he on the prairie, in a wagon that was being buffeted by wind and rain, hail beating down on the poor creatures that were trying to pull it. There was no shelter to be found. Again, he saw himself as a small boy, now perhaps Little Joe’s age. Inger was beside him as his father tried to keep the ox under control. While Inger’s gentle touch was reassuring, Adam knew no harm would befall him...his mother’s quilt was protecting him as he clutched it to his heart.

"Yes, I knew I’d think of it. It’s in the old sea chest Grandpa gave me."

That question at rest, Adam was surprised as more visions enveloped him. This time, it was shortly after Hoss had been born out on the prairie...in fact, the first time he’d seen his little brother. Inger was resting in the wagon, holding the newborn who was wrapped in a beautiful quilt that Inger had somehow found time to piece on the trip west. The bright pastel blues, greens, and yellows reminded him of the sky, grasses and flowers they’d seen on the trip west, all bound in a loving warmth from the sun and from Inger herself. It was right after Hoss’ birth that Adam had set aside his own quilt; he was the big brother now.

Adam’s smile disappeared as he heard the war cries of the attacking Indians at Ash Hollow. He closed his eyes to keep that memory at bay. Even with his eyes scrunched shut, though, he saw his father, swaddling Hoss in the quilt, lay the baby down beside his older brother for protection that first night while Ben attended to sadder tasks. As Adam had slept next to the boy, he had unconsciously pulled a corner of the quilt to grasp in his own hand, seeking a comfort that only a mother could provide.

Had Hoss found the same comfort and protection in his quilt that Adam had in his? Well, yes, that must be so. Another vision came to mind as he watched Hoss fall asleep each night after their father had gone to New Orleans with sad news to tell the new widow of the man who had saved his life. Hoss had cried each night up in the Withrow’s loft until Adam had told him that Inger’s love and protection were always to be found in that quilt Hoss carried to bed with him each night. It was after that, that the tears mostly stopped and a more contented boy could relax in peace.

Hmmm. Did Hoss still have Inger’s quilt? Adam was sure he did and for some reason, it was imperative that he remember where. He smiled as he saw Hoss fold the quilt and put it safely away in Inger’s steamer trunk after Little Joe had been born. He could hear Hoss even now..."I don’t need this, Pa. I’m a big brother now." The steamer trunk. Yes, Adam was sure it was still safely tucked away in Hoss’ room.

Those mysteries solved, Adam’s reveries ended and he turned to the task at hand.

He moved to the rocker and gently shook Little Joe’s shoulder to get his attention. A tear streaked face looked up at him. "Come on, little brother. Pa sent me to get you for supper."

Little Joe sighed, wishing he didn’t have to face his family, but knowing his father expected it. He got off the rocker and walked toward the door, carefully placing the quilt under his pillow.

"Wait a minute," Adam stopped him. "Let’s get that face and those hands washed." He poured some water into the ceramic bowl while Joe passively allowed his brother to attend to him. That done, Adam considered his next move.

"Little Joe, you take that shirt off and I’ll get you clean one for supper. You know Pa likes us presentable at the table." Adam turned to get another shirt while Joe busied himself trying to unbutton the one he was wearing. It seemed to take forever, but he was finally finished. Adam helped him into a clean one, deciding in the essence of time, that he’d better do up these buttons himself. As he worked, his little brother looked up.

"Adam, I’m sorry I went in your room and got that book." Joe’s earnest look was so sincere; Adam was touched. "But honest, I didn’t mean, well, I guess I did, but I didn’t.... I didn’t really want to tear that page out."

Adam kept buttoning the shirt. "Then why’d you do it, Joe?" He asked evenly.

"I, uh, I uh, was looking at the book and I turned the page too fast and it tore. And I knew you’d know I’d seen the book and been in your room if you saw the tear and, and..." He couldn’t go on anymore.

"You thought if you tore it out, that I might not notice?"

Little Joe nodded his head dejectedly. "I’m sorry. Honest, Adam."

Adam knelt until he was eye level with his little brother. "I’ll make a deal with you, Little Joe. I won’t keep anything from you ever, except when I think it’s not something you should see. I’ll never do it just ‘cause I’m mad at you or want to be mean. Do you understand?"

Little Joe was confused, but he did understand, so he nodded his head. "So, you can see almost anything I have, but only if I’m there to show you. Is that a deal?"

The boy looked up, amazed at his good fortune. "Anything, Adam?"

"I said almost anything and I meant it, but you have to go along with me when I say no sometimes. Otherwise, anything, but only if I’m there to show it to you. Deal?"

"Sure." The little boy’s bright smile cheered up the older brother. "It’s a deal."

Adam finished the last button. "Well, now that we’ve got that settled, let’s get downstairs before Hoss eats everything Hop Sing has fixed." He smiled at his younger brother, raising his arm to usher Joe out the door.

Ben smiled when he saw his two sons walking down the front stairs. Adam had his hand firmly planted on Joe’s curly head as if keeping the boy in check. Little Joe’s bright smile told him he’d have no need to ask if Joe had done his job of apologizing to his older brother.

It was several hours after Little Joe had gone to bed that Adam decided to call it a night. He was surprised at the soft knock at his door. He was even more puzzled to find it was Little Joe, standing in a flannel nightshirt, who had gotten his attention that late at night. He opened the door wider, admitting the little boy.

"Joe, what are you doing up so late?" he asked, genuinely concerned that something bad was troubling his little brother.

"Adam, I’m scared," Little Joe finally admitted after a few moments.

"Afraid of what, Joe?"

"I’m, I’m, I’m," the boy’s stuttering was keeping him from finishing his thoughts. "I’m afraid I’ll have another nightmare." He released the breath he’d been holding and looked into Adam’s eyes, hoping an answer would be there.

"Aw, Joe, you probably won’t have any more bad dreams. And if you do, Pa or Marie will be there."

Little Joe was not convinced and tried one more time. "Can I sleep with you tonight, Adam? Please?" His emerald green eyes begged his older brother to consider this favor.

Sighing, Adam looked down at the boy. "Ok, buddy, but just tonight." He escorted his brother to his bed, pulled back the blankets and helped him climb into the tall bed.

This night was no better than the night before. Five times, Joe’s moaning and twisting as he drifted into a nightmare woke up his older brother. Adam kept the younger boy from the tears and hysterics that had awakened the rest of the household before, but the broken sleep was taking its toll on the older brother.

It was early the next morning that Ben Cartwright walked down the hallway, knocking loudly on each of his son’s rooms as he began to wake up the household. For Adam, who had just drifted off to sleep after Little Joe’s last episode, it was a most unwelcome intrusion into his morning.

Grumbling under his breath, the young man dragged himself out of bed to begin his morning ablutions. Finally, dressed and ready to go down to breakfast, he considered waking his brother, knowing his father expected the family together at breakfast and supper. Short tempered and lacking much empathy, he decided to at least wake his brother, but he surely wasn’t going to get him up and dressed. Let his little brother take some responsibility for his own actions.

"Little Joe," Adam gently shook the boy, a lump forming in his throat despite his best intentions to be disgruntled with his little brother. Little Joe’s eyes were still swollen from the tears that had left streaks down his face as the boy had cried himself back to sleep. "Joe, time to get up."

Little Joe opened his eyes, then tried pushing his older brother away. "Go ‘way, Adam," he mumbled as he tried to turn over.

"It’s morning, little brother. Rise and shine or Pa’ll be around to get you up." It was a threat guaranteed to work most any time, but Joe was too tired to care.

"Mmmm. I’ll be up in just a sec." Joe yawned, then rolled over, pulling the covers over his head.

Adam just shook his head, a terrible headache making its presence met as he did so. "Damn," he mumbled under his breath. He shrugged his shoulders as he looked at his brother one more time, then turned to go to breakfast.

As he put his napkin in his lap, Adam was struck by the silence at the breakfast table. Looking up slowly, he was surprised to find his father and stepmother staring at him. "Uh, something wrong?"

"My God, Adam. You look terrible." His father’s voice expressed the concern he felt for his oldest son. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Uh, well, uh, no, sir, I’m not." Adam didn’t even feel like trying to cover for his little brother. He was exhausted, his head hurt and the thought of riding to Virginia City and sitting through an entire school day was not appealing.’

As his father reached over to feel his forehead, Adam grimaced. "You’re not hot, son."

Adam decided to play it straight. "No, sir. Just exhausted." His father’s questioning look encouraged him to continue. The young man let out a deep breath of air as he continued began. "Last night, Little Joe came into my room saying he was scared to sleep by himself."

"Afraid of what?" Marie looked at her husband with a grim look, wondering if Little Joe was still smarting from the spanking he’d endured.

"Well, mostly he was afraid he’d have another nightmare." Marie’s face softened as she turned from Ben, her encouraging look persuading Adam to continue.

"Anyway, he asked if he could sleep with me last night and I agreed. Boy," Adam sighed, "was that a mistake. He had four or five nightmares. When he’d start to shake and turn, he’d wake me up, so I could keep him from screaming at least." Adam sighed again as though the weight of the world were on him. "The last time, he was in tears so I stayed up with him forever, it seemed." Adam finished his explanation, then shrugged his shoulders in resignation. "Pa, couldn’t I please stay home today. I just don’t think I can sit through a day of Mr. Lawson’s lectures."

Ben considered his oldest son’s request, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the way his face seemed to sag with exhaustion. "I’d like Dr. Martin to come out and check you over, son. But, I think we can let you have the day off today. I’m sorry you took the brunt of Joe’s fears last night." He looked around, realizing for the first time that the little boy had not yet come downstairs.

"Where is Little Joe, by the way?"

"I guess he’s still in bed, Pa. I woke him up, but he sure wasn’t too happy about it all."

"Well, Adam," Marie began, "you certainly performed an act of love for the rest of us. I’m sorry you had to deal with him alone last night. If I’d known..."

"That’s okay. I asked for it, I guess, when I let him sleep in my bed." Adam smiled weakly.

"Be that as it may, I’ll go put Little Joe to bed in our room and you can go on back to bed." She stood up to make good her word, pushing back the chair as she made to go upstairs.

"Hoss," Ben turned to his middle son. "Charlie’s going to town to get supplies and bring back some lumber from the saw mill. You can ride to town with him and he can bring you back this afternoon. I’m sure he’ll be finished by then."

"Sure, Pa," Hoss went back to eating his breakfast, oblivious to the undertones at the breakfast table.

As Marie went upstairs to move her son, Ben excused himself to talk with Charlie. Hoss finished his breakfast, grabbed his books and joined his father and their foreman. With a goodbye to his father, Hoss climbed aboard and was soon safely on his way to Virginia City.

By the time Ben was back inside, Adam had already gone back upstairs and Marie was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. She looked up as her husband came in. "I put Joe back in our bed. If it’s possible, he looks even worse than Adam." She shook her head in frustration. "I wish Adam’s grandfather had never sent that crate of books here."

Ben gently took her hand in his. "Come on, Marie. Books are few and far between out here. You don’t mean that."

"No, I guess I don’t, but I don’t know what we can do to help Little Joe. He’s miserable and look what it’s already doing to Adam. What can we do?" She appealed to her husband for a miracle.

"I don’t know. Maybe Paul will have some ideas. I asked Charlie to have him come out. I’m sure Adam’s all right, but I’d like to be sure. That boy must be feeling pretty miserable to volunteer to miss school."

Marie’s mouth twitched upward for a moment. "He was sound asleep when I checked on him after moving Little Joe to our bed." She shook her head in bewilderment at the whole problem.

It was after 10 a.m. that Paul Martin’s buggy drew up in front of the Ponderosa ranch house. The door was opened before he could knock. A very worried Marie Cartwright met him to usher him into the house. Paul tried smiling confidently, knowing that sometimes just this connection was enough to take the edge off his visit.

"Oh, Paul, I’m so glad you could come out. We don’t have any idea...."

Paul stopped her, hugging her around the shoulders as he did so. "Marie, let me at least get in the house out of this chilled air," he chided not unkindly.

She smiled self-consciously. "Yes, of course. It’s just we’re at a loss what to do with Little Joe and now Adam’s involved."

Paul smiled down at the obviously very worried and very concerned mother. "Let’s check those boys out and see what’s happening." As if on cue, Little Joe appeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his flannel nightshirt. His eyes were still slightly swollen and the steaks on his face were still present. With his tousled hair and countenance of total disarray, Little Joe seemed very lost just then.

He plodded downstairs then stood in front of his father, lifting his hands in invitation to sit on his knees. Ben shook his head as he picked the boy up and placed him on his lap. Little Joe leaned against the deep chest, his left thumb firmly fixed in his mouth while Ben quietly rubbed his back, hoping to help him wake up more fully.

Dr. Martin gestured a greeting to Ben as he squatted down to take a look at his young patient. "Hello, Little Joe. How are you this morning?" The boy looked at the doctor, but then turned back to lean into his father’s chest.

"Joseph," Ben began gently, "Dr. Martin is here to check you over." He felt the boy stiffen.

"I ain’t sick, Pa. I don’t need no doctor."

"He’s not going to give you any shots, son. He just wants to see if he can help you stop these nightmares." Ben felt his son visibly relax.

The man turned toward the doctor. "Where would you like to examine Joe?"

"How about on the settee? Then, he can get back to eating that good breakfast while I take a look at Adam." He smiled confidently at his young patient. Joe gave him a half grin, then turned back to concentrate on his thumb, leaning back against his father as he did so.

Ben carried the boy to the sofa, sitting him facing the good doctor. A thorough exam revealed no physical problems. "Little Joe," began Dr. Martin, "can you tell me what your dreams are about?" The boy shook his head, looking down at his feet. "Do you remember anyone or anything that’s in them?"

This question caused Little Joe to pause. "Joseph, think about that. Is there anyone or anything you can remember?"

"Pa and Ma." Joe stopped there, struggling to remember what his mind was hiding in its deep recesses. He looked up at Dr. Martin. "Ma and Pa and...." he struggled to remember, then shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “I can’t stand those dreams, Dr. Martin." He looked back down at the floor.

He looked so pitiful the doctor was touched. "Joe, I’m not sure how to help, but I’ll try to think of something." He hugged the boy, who barely responded.

Dr. Martin then turned toward Marie and Ben. "I have some sleeping powders that could help him sleep, but I’d be afraid to use them in a boy his age. They’re a pretty strong drug, too." He shook his head in defeat. "If things continue too badly, I can try them, but I hate to use them as a first choice. Most often these dreams pass with just a little time. I recommend we simply wait."

Ben and Marie looked at each other, then nodded, hoping the dreams would stop soon, wondering what it would do to the family until they did.

Dr. Martin’s examination of Adam was no more revealing than his exam of Little Joe had been. His diagnosis of exhaustion was not questioned by any of the family. Adam was to stay in bed today. With the weekend coming on, he’d only be absent from one day of school.

When Dr. Martin came downstairs, he was pleased to see his youngest patient sitting with his mother at the dining table, eating some warm oatmeal. As cold as this late October weather was, the hot meal was just the right choice. "Good bye, Marie, Little Joe," he waved as he turned to Ben who had escorted him to the door.

"Give Joe some time, Ben. These dreams have a way of disappearing in time. Believe me, it’s safer than using the sleeping powders in a boy his age. But, I’ll check with some colleagues in San Francisco. I’ll let you know what I find out." With that, Dr. Martin stepped into the chilly weather, on his way to his next house call.

The day was uneventful. Ben stayed around the house doing accounts, a job he hated, while Marie busied herself with some mending. She managed to get Joe to do some of his chores, but the boy was as tired as Adam had been. At 2 p.m., she put him down for a nap, hoping he’d sleep peacefully until supper.

At about 3:30, though, Little Joe woke up, a little confused at finding himself back in his own bed. He slid off it, heading downstairs. As he passed Adam’s room, he noticed the open door, startled at finding it that way. He pushed the door partway open, then, remembering his father’s admonition from the day before, knocked quietly.

He was puzzled at hearing Adam’s welcoming response. "Hey, Adam," Joe began, pleasantly surprised to find his brother at home this time of day. "What are you doing in bed?"

"Oh, I wasn’t feeling too well this morning, so Pa let me stay home." He smiled at his youngest brother who had so obviously just awaken.

"Hey, Adam," Joe began again, "want to help me build one of those," he paused, searching for the word, "one of those places where that King Arthur lived?"

His older brother laughed quietly. "A castle, buddy?" When Joe nodded expectantly, Adam responded, "Not right now, half pint. I’m really tired still." When he saw Little Joe’s crestfallen face he added, "But, I’ve got an idea." Joe’s face looked up in anticipation. "Why don’t you bring your blocks over here? You can build the castle in my room and I'll read some."

Joe considered that option for about one nanosecond, then smiled brightly at his older brother. "Yeah, that’s a great idea, Adam. I’ll be right back." The boy turned and ran back to his own bedroom.

Adam could hear him struggling with the box of blocks Ben had made the boy for his last Christmas. Shaking his head, Adam climbed out of bed, to bring in the treasure before Joe scarred the wooden floors. His little brother sat contentedly by the window with the pile of different wooden shapes scattered beside him.

As Adam took up the book he’d laid aside, he surreptitiously regarded his young brother, busily engaged in the arduous task of constructing the castle. He shook his head, marveling that one small boy who was usually so active could sit with the intense concentration he was now showing.

After a few moments of silence, each brother engrossed in his respective activity, Joe looked up, spotting the book he was looking for on his brother’s shelf. Standing, he reached up, stopping as he was reminded once more of his father’s warning. "Uh, Adam," he ventured cautiously, not wanting to disturb his brother too much.

Adam looked up from his book, noticing Little Joe standing by the bookshelf. "Yeah?" he queried.

Joe colored slightly, embarrassed at asking for a favor when Adam would know why he wasn’t doing it himself. The older brother smiled slightly, understanding Joe’s hesitancy. "Can I see your book about that King Arthur? I’ve kind of forgotten what castles look like." He grinned to cover his discomfort.

As Adam handed his little brother the book in question, he ruffled his brother’s curls. "Sure, buddy. There are some great pictures at the back of the book." Joe took the book, turning immediately to the back as he began making corrections in his structure. Adam shook his head, returning to his reading.

A few moments later, Adam heard Hoss charge into the house. After a quick greeting to his father and stepmother, the middle boy raced up the stairs, bounding into Adam’s room, not even noticing his little brother playing by the window. "Hey, Adam! Adam!" Hoss called to his brother, as though the young man were in the barn instead of right beside him.

Adam held up his hands. "Slow down, brother."

Hoss was out of breath. "I’ve got it Adam. I’ve got a way for you to get up the courage to ask Jenny to the church social."

Adam frowned. Hoss was treading on dangerous territory. "What makes you think I need any help?"

Hoss laughed. "I seen the way you been staring at her like a love struck cow. You’ll not tell me you’re not afraid to ask her." He shrugged off Adam’s protests. "Just listen to me for once," he began. Adam settled back, allowing his middle brother to continue.

"Remember that assignment Mr. Lawson gave us? The one where we were to ask our grandma or grandpa or some old timer about an old time cure?" Adam nodded affirmatively. "Well, that Jim Casto, the kid from Kentucky or Tennessee or somewhere back there in those mountains...well, he brought in this great cure for getting over being scared." Hoss didn’t notice his little brother’s rapt attention as he made his announcement.

"Here it is, Adam. You do this and you’ll feel just like inviting that pretty Jenny to the social." Adam shook his head, but his lack of enthusiasm did nothing to deter Hoss.

"You take something that reminds you of what you’re afraid of...it could be a picture, heck you could just write her name on a piece of paper. Anyway, you go off by yourself and build a little fire. You burn whatever it is you have to remind you of whatever you’re afraid of. Only you walk around the fire three times before you throw it in. Then, after the fire is cool, you take the ashes, make a cross on your forehead with it and you’ll never be afraid of it again." He paused, smiling triumphantly at Adam as though he found some incredible prize.

"Come on, Hoss, you can’t believe that," Adam countered.

"Jim says his grandma swears it works. And she wouldn’t lie to him, I don’t figure. You don’t think she would, do you?"

"No, Hoss, she wouldn’t lie, but just 'cause she believes it doesn’t make it true."

"It wouldn’t hurt you to try it, Adam. See, I wrote Jenny’s name on this piece of paper for you." He proudly handed the leaf of paper to his older brother. "You ought to give it a try."

"I’ll think about it, brother," Adam conceded, laughing even as he responded.

Hoss turned as Joe made a move that caught his eye. "Hey, Little Joe, I didn’t know you was here, too." He hunkered down to see what his little brother was making.

Joe smiled back. "You like it?" he demanded an answer.

"I sure do." Hoss glanced at the picture in the open book beside the structure. "If I was a knight, I’d sure like to live in a castle like yours." His little brother beamed back.

Hoss stood up, "Hey, you two. Marie’s got cookies and milk downstairs. Sure looks good." He looked at his brothers expectantly.

Adam laughed. "Okay, okay, Hoss. You’ve convinced me. Come on, buddy," he turned to his little brother, pulling him up. "Let’s get some of those sugar cookies before Hoss eats them all."

The three brothers headed downstairs; the discussion about fears a conversation of the past.

The youngest Cartwright did not forget the dialogue, though. As the boy worked to complete his weekend house chores the next day, his eyes constantly searched for the elusive picture he’d torn out of the history book. Frustrated at not finding it, he was tempted to ask his mother where it was. As Joe considered the consequences of such an action, though, he knew that approach would never work.

If his mother had not destroyed the picture, Little Joe reasoned the picture must be back in the book from which he’d originally torn it. He just needed time to search Adam’s room one more time. So driven was he to find the offending picture, the consequences of getting caught were forgotten. The chance to check Adam’s room did not present itself until after their noon meal. As Ben made plans to take the two oldest boys to check fences near Goose Creek, Marie prepared to put her young son down for his nap.

She shook her head as the expected protests materialized. As routine as Joe’s naps were, she’d have thought he’d eventually accept the inevitable, but Joe had other ideas. He squirmed under her restraint as she pulled back the covers and laid him on the bed.

"I’m not tired," he grumbled. "I don’t need no nap."

Her look brooked no argument. "I don’t care whether you sleep or not, Joseph," knowing full well he’d be sound asleep within minutes, "but you will stay in this bed for one hour. You know the rules."

"Those are rules for babies." Joe argued.

"Those are rules for you, young man. I have too much to do downstairs to be fighting with you all afternoon. Is that understood?" She looked at her young son until he was forced to look away.

"Yes, ma’am. It’s understood." It was obvious the boy did not agree with his mother, though.

She smiled to lighten the mood. "I’ll set the hour glass downstairs. If you’re still awake, you can get up then. Fair enough?"

"Yes’m," Joe mumbled. He sighed, then turned onto his back, showing his mother he wasn’t the least bit sleepy.

"I’ll see you in an hour, then," she offered as she gently closed the door on her way out.

Joe fumed, wishing he didn’t have to take these darned naps and hoping there were someway that he could check Adam’s room. It suddenly occurred to him that with his mother downstairs and the rest of the family checking fence, now would be the perfect opportunity. He slid cautiously off the bed, then tip toed quietly across the hall to his older brother’s room.

Slipping quietly into the bedroom, he held his breath, expecting his mother to hear his movements. How he’d explain being uninvited in Adam’s room again was far from his mind. It was obvious the book was not where he’d last seen it. Darn. Where might it be? Joe’s eyes roamed the bookshelves, hoping Adam would have put the book with his others.

It was about half way along the middle shelf that Little Joe spied the book. As he silently pulled the book from his shelf, he prayed his mother would not come check on him. His heart raced as he finally recognized the fear of getting caught. Surreptitiously, he moved from his brother’s room, his prize clenched in his left hand.

Once back in his room, Little Joe slid the book under his mattress, then climbed back into bed. Fear, coupled with exhaustion, took its toll and within minutes, the boy was asleep.

At 2 p.m., Marie checked on her son, finding him asleep under the quilt, as she knew she would. Choosing to let her son get as much sleep as his body needed, she left him snuggled under the blankets.

It was only a few minutes, later, though, that the boy woke up. It took a few minutes to shake off the sleep as the boy remembered the book under his mattress. So afraid had he been of being caught that he hadn’t even checked to see if the offending picture was back in place. Carefully, he opened the book, closing his eyes when he spotted the gruesome picture. Quickly, he stuffed the page into his pocket, sliding the book under his pillow. He’d take care of that after the finished his task.

He moved even more quietly to his parents’ bedroom door, hesitating as he stood outside it. Never had he just walked into their room. Steeling himself against his conscience, he gently opened the door and stole inside. Shivering, from the chill and the fear, he moved to the small fireplace where he pulled five or six matches from the holder on the wall. That job complete, he crept back out the room, silently closing the door.

Joe closed his eyes as he leaned against the hall way door. Then, gathering his courage, he quietly sneaked down the back stairs. He could hear Hop Sing and his mother in the great room as he stole out the back door to his freedom. Knowing he had to act quickly before his father and brothers returned or before his mother checked on him as he knew she would, Joe dashed across the side yard, heading for the pasture on the far side of the meadow.

As he neared the spot he’d chosen for his little ritual, any warnings or concerns any member of his family had raised were far from his thoughts. The boy thought about Hoss’ cure, planning how he’d do it. Well, first, he’d have to build a fire, wasn’t that it? And then, throw in the picture...No, first he’d have to walk around the fire three times. Well, that’d be easy enough. Then throw in the picture. And what was that about the ashes? Oh, yeah. After the ashes cooled, he had to make a cross on his forehead with some of them. Well, that could even wait for another day if need be. But the picture had to be burned immediately, before anyone in his family realized he was missing. Joe didn’t think he’d ever have as good a chance as he had now.

Collecting tinder and dry grass of which there was abundance, Joe had the makings of a good fire in just a few minutes. As he laid out the fire he tried to remember all his brothers had taught him about fire building. Darn, he should have paid more attention. Finally, though, the boy was satisfied he could start the fire with what he had before him.

One, two, three, it was the fourth try before the match would light. Joe carried it carefully to the fire, wanting to find just the right place to light first. As the match burned down more quickly than he intended Joe dropped the flame as it burned his finger.

Although not near the neat pile Joe had set up for his little fire, the tinder dry grass on which the match landed ignited immediately. Joe watched horrified as the fire quickly spread, his escape back to the ranch effectively cut off in just minutes. The boy turned to run, a wall of flame already to his left. Panicked, Joe searched wildly for another way out. The smoke now made it almost impossible to see any escape routes as the boy looked in desperation.

He thought he heard someone at the ranch ringing the cast iron bell that signified an emergency at the ranch house. In the unbearable heat and the stifling smoke, though, Joe couldn’t be sure of anything.

It was in the intense heat, as Joe knew he was going to die, that a deep calm enveloped his soul. Almost as an observer from on high, yet intimately involved, Little Joe felt the cool, damp blankets laid across him. With the smoke filtered through the wet covers, it certainly made breathing easier. But it was the warm massage his back received that finally allowed the panic to be contained. Strong arms pulled him onto a lap while another wet blanket was wrapped around him. If he were going to die, cloaked in this love made it tolerable.

As Charlie rang the huge bell, Ben Cartwright hurried his team onward. The urgent call for help made him decidedly uneasy. An Indian attack or a fire...either was distinct possibilities, as dry this October had been. As he pulled into the yard, the dark smoke from the far pasture gave him his answer.

"Marie," he yelled as he saw his wife running toward him. "Get Joe. You’ve got to be ready to ride if this grass fire gets any more out of control." She ran back into the house as Ben turned to direct the fire containment efforts.

In a short moment, his wife was back, almost hysterical. "Ben," she screamed. "Little Joe. He’s not in his room." She shook her husband. "I don’t know where he is!"

Ben grabbed her shoulders, ready to shake her. "Marie, Marie," he shook her none too gently. "Calm down. He’s got to be here. Just look for him." She stared at him, unseeing.

A picture of her son, surrounded by flames, screaming in panic, invaded her senses. "He’s in the fire, Ben," she cried. "I can see him." Never had anything scared her as much as that image.

Something in her voice shook the man to his soul. He turned to the fire as Charlie rode up. "Ben, there’s someone caught in the center of that fire." He looked very uneasy. His boss simply stared at him. "I think it may be Little Joe, but we can’t get to him."

A primal scream filled the air as Ben and Marie rushed forward. Indeed, lying on the ground, they could almost see the shadow of a figure, barely visible through the thick smoke and flames; charred beyond recognition. As Ben tried to charge forward, Charlie and another hand held him back. "It’s suicide, Ben. You’ve got the rest of your family to worry about. And," Charlie hated being so blunt, but he had to get Ben focused on the fire before it destroyed the entire ranch house area. "And," Charlie squeezed his boss’ shoulder. "Whoever that is, he can’t still be alive. You know that."

Ben looked up, empty eyes gazing at the ranch foreman. "No, he can’t still be alive." The man stared at the charred figure, then back to Marie who fully realized the certainty of that moment. No words were needed as the couple realized the futility of further actions to save their son. But they had two other sons and a ranch. If their boys and hired hands could work to protect the Ponderosa, the two of them would lead. As people possessed, they worked to contain the fire.

It was six hours before the fire was sufficiently under control that the Cartwright’s and their hands could relax. Hop Sing served coffee and sandwiches to the hands in the bunkhouse while Marie served Ben and his sons in the house. It was still too hot to go to the pasture where this had all begun. At a loss as she dealt with her own grief, Marie had no idea how to help her husband and stepsons. Ben stared out the window while Hoss sat, crying in the stuffed chair by the fireplace. Adam guessed what his little brother had done and the guilt was all consuming. If he’d just thrown the book away at the very beginning.

A gentle knock at the door interrupted their individual reveries. A deep melancholy descended as they each remembered...getting the door was Little Joe’s job and he’d never be here to do it again. Adam stood up, knowing he would take on this job as a means to assuage his guilt. As he opened the door, his heart stopped. Standing before him was his little brother...confused, covered with soot, his tousled hair singed, his shirt sleeves burned away with blisters forming on his arms, but otherwise, seemingly all right.

"Joe," Adam whispered, afraid that by speaking the boy’s name, the vision would fade. Little Joe looked up, smiling an embarrassed grin. "Joe," the young man spoke a little louder, reaching down to grab his brother by the boy’s shoulders.

"Is Pa mad?"

Adam laughed loudly as he picked up this little munchkin who was such a vital part of his family’s life. "No, little brother," he cried as he hugged the boy tightly to him.

"Pa, Marie, Hoss!" Adam yelled to his family as he turned to carry the boy inside. Ben and Marie ran to see what the problem was, astounded at finding Adam holding their baby in his arms.

"My, God," Marie grabbed the boy from his brother’s arms. "Joe, you’re all right." She clutched the boy to her, afraid if she let go, the boy would disappear. Tears poured down her face, anointing her son as they did.

"Ma," Joe began tentatively. "I can’t breathe with you squeezing me."

Ben laughed aloud, pulling the boy and his wife to him. "I don’t know what happened, but I thank you, dear Lord."

"Pa," Joe tried to push away. "My arms hurt, Pa."

Ben noticed Joe’s injuries for the first time. "Dear, Lord," he invoked His name again. "Adam, have Charlie send someone for Dr. Martin." As Adam turned to do as he was told, the patriarch turned to Hop Sing. "Get a bath for this boy. Let’s get him cleaned up."

It was 20 minutes later that Hop Sing appeared to take Little Joe for his bath. So far, Joe had not talked about the fire. Unwilling to relinquish her hold, Marie was ready to go with the boy until their diminutive cook stopped her. "Hop Sing wash boy. Be ready for doctor."

Marie’s eyes followed the pair as Hop Sing left with her son; then she returned to sit with the family as they tried to sort out what they all knew was impossible. Hop Sing returned with Little Joe wrapped only in a cotton towel as he tried to minimize the trauma to Joe’s burns. Ben pulled the boy onto his lap, then sat on the sofa with his wife next to him, her hands stroking her son’s soft curls. "Mmmm. Elizabeth did that, too," he mumbled as he drifted to sleep.

Unsure if she’d heard him correctly, Marie looked to her husband who shook his head, uncertain of what he’d heard. Hoss and Adam pulled the stuffed chairs to complete a circle around the sleeping boy, each aware that somehow, they were all witness to a miracle.

It was two hours later that Doctor Martin finished his treatment of Joe’s burns, giving him a sedative while leaving Hop Sing in attendance as he talked to the boy’s parents. At Ben’s insistence, he’d walked out to the pasture, awed at the destruction the fire had done. As he sat to take a cup of Hop Sing’s good coffee, he shook his head. "I don’t know what happened, Ben. I do know your son should be dead." He paused to savor the taste of the coffee and to plan his next words.

He looked to the couple. "Joe started that fire. Something about curing some fears?" He looked confused and Ben described the folk cure as Adam had related it to him. "That explains what he was up to then. But, the fire got out of hand too quickly and Joe was trapped." Dr. Martin paused again. "You showed me what the fire did, Ben. There’s no way anyone caught in that fire could have survived. And from Joe’s description, I believe he was definitely trapped in those flames."

The doctor rubbed his eyes before he continued. "Did Little Joe tell you anything?" When the couple shook their heads, he continued. "I don’t know what to make of this," he began. "Little Joe said he knew he was going to die. And I believe that. But he said he felt really calm, and then someone put a damp blanket over his head and he could breathe better and it wasn’t as hot. Then, someone rubbed his shoulders to calm him down, singing an old folk song to help him relax. And someone else pulled him onto her lap and another wet blanket was wrapped around him. The two women apparently sat with him, singing, talking, holding him, keeping him cool with the wet blankets. He said he knew he was safe and that he’d be all right."

"Was it angels, Ma?" asked Hoss innocently.

Marie smiled knowingly as she glanced at the pictures on Ben’s desk. "Yes, Hoss. Beautiful, loving and caring angels."

"How’d he get to the house?" asked Adam. "It was still way too hot to walk over that grass when he got here."

"He says he doesn’t know," responded Dr. Martin. "When he first noticed anything, it was Adam calling his name." The doctor shrugged his shoulders as he finished his tale.

"Whatever it was, it was a miracle." The good doctor stood up to take his leave. "He’ll be fine. Those blisters on his arm are the worst of it, and they should heal with no scars if he leaves them alone. Don’t break them and don’t let him scratch them. I’ll be back tomorrow to change the bandages. He’s bound to be in some pain and I’ve left some powders for him. Hop Sing has the directions, but it’s one packet in a glass or water every 8-to12 hours. But only if he needs it. He’s sedated right now and should sleep through the night."

Ben and Hoss went to Joe’s room. Hoss was allowed to spend some time there before his bed, while Ben would be there most of the night.

Downstairs, Adam wandered into the guest bedroom looking for a new book to read. He came immediately, carrying two damp, smoky quilts...the one his mother had made for him that was hidden away in his grandfather’s sea trunk and the one Inger had made Hoss and which was packed away in Inger’s steamer trunk.... the boy’s face was pale. "What do you think happened out there, Marie?" asked Adam. As much as he loved his father, some topics were easier to talk about with his stepmother. "Do you have any idea?"

She smiled at her stepson. "We may never know for sure, Adam. Your guess is a good as mine. But I think you know in your heart, as I do in mine."

The young man nodded, then turned to go upstairs. Marie walked to Ben’s desk, carefully picking up the two pictures. "Elizabeth and Inger, I thank you with all my heart. And yes, I’ll continue to take care of your sons as long as I have the privilege. You may rest in peace."

*****END****

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