Mistaken Identity

By Carla L.
 

Joe Cartwright whistled happily as he rode home from Virginia City at a leisurely pace. He had finished all the errands his father had given him; won almost two hundred dollars in high stakes poker game and still had time to make it home for supper. It was a glorious late summer day and Joe's hazel eyes drank in the beauty surrounding him. The sky was a magnificent clear blue except for a few lazy, puffy white clouds. The sun was warm on his back as a gentle breeze kissed his face. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the clean scent of pines permeated around him.

A sudden noise caught his attention. He opened his eyes, looked all around, but saw nothing. Then he heard it again. It sounded as if someone were crying.

"Whoa, Cochise," he said as he gently pulled back on the reins. He dismounted, tied his horse securely to a pine tree and made his way carefully around an outcropping of rocks. As he came to a small clearing, he stopped in surprise. On a low boulder sat a young girl, about fourteen years old, crying as if her heart were breaking. Small dirty hands covered her face, her slim shoulders shaking with sobs. She was dressed in a ragged dress, her feet bare, her blond hair dirty and stringy. Joe moved towards her carefully so as not to scare her.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said quietly.

The young girl looked up quickly blue eyes bright with tears. She slowly maneuvered herself backward across the boulder away from Joe, a look of sheer terror on her face.

"It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you," Joe said gently. He took one more step before he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. He fell into a heap in the dirt as blackness swallowed him up.

"You didn't kill him did you, Tanner?" the girl asked timidly turning to look at the tall, muscular young man beside her.

"Nah, he'll be fine. Just a bump on the head," Tanner told her. "C'mon, Celeste, help me get him on his horse. We gotta get outta here before somebody comes along."

********
 

Ben Cartwright's dark eyes were hooded with anger as he paced back and forth in front of the huge fireplace. He stopped pacing, hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and glared at Adam, who was sitting in the blue chair reading. Adam looked up as his father spoke.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with that boy. I told him to be home by suppertime and here it is almost 11:00 and not a sign of him anywhere! Sometimes your brother can make me very angry!" he fumed.

"Pa, he probably stopped by the saloon and got involved in a poker game. You know how he looses all track of time when he gets to playing poker.” Adam said, standing up and stretching. "Don't worry about Joe. He'll be sneaking in here any time now. I think I'll go on up to bed."

Hoss tried to calm his father. "Adam right, Pa. Joe's probably just forgot the time. Why don't you go on up to bed? He'll be here soon."

"You boys go on. I think I'll wait a while longer,” Ben said absently as he started pacing again.

Adam rolled his eyes at Hoss as they headed up the stairs.

"Hope Joe's having fun in town," Adam remarked. "Because he's sure going to pay a high price when he gets home."

"Yeah, Pa'll probably restrict him for a month!” Hoss shook his head, grinning. It never ceased to amaze him how much trouble Joe could get into without even trying.

Suddenly Hoss' face creased in a frown. He put his hand on Adam's shoulder, looking him in the eye. "Hey, Adam," he said. "You don't reckon something happened to Joe, do you?"

Adam smiled and shook his head. "C'mon Hoss, you worry more than Pa does! Of course nothing has happened to him. He's just playing poker with his friends, that's all."

Hoss thought about that for a minute, then nodded in agreement. "You're probably right. Well, good night, Adam."

"Good night, Hoss.” Adam watched as Hoss went into his room, stopped a moment, then said, "No, he's fine.” But he still had a frown on his face as he went to his own room.

*******

Joe woke to a raging pain that seemed to swallow up his entire head. For a little while after consciousness slowly returned to his aching body, he considered whether it was worth the effort to open his eyes. He quickly decided it would take more energy than he possessed at the moment. After several minutes of darkness, he changed his mind and opened his eyes.

The total darkness nearly caused him to think that the blow he'd taken to his head had left him blind. All he saw was black. No hint of light coming from any direction. Just a shifting swirl of painful colors that faded from vision every time he tried to focus on them. A few minutes later, when his head cleared and the colors faded, he realized the room he was in was completely devoid of light. Sighing in relief, he began to take stock of his situation.

He couldn't tell how badly he was hurt. Aside from a raging headache, there was the unpleasant taste of blood in his mouth, and it felt as if one of his teeth had been knocked loose. He had no way of knowing the extent of his injuries and could only hope that they would not prevent him from acting when the opportunity presented itself.

He tried to remember the symptoms of serious head injuries, but it was difficult to think clearly. The headache and nausea were consistent with concussion; but being in complete darkness, he wasn't able to tell if his vision was being affected.

To add to his problems, he was tied in a manner that prevented anything but the smallest of movement. From what he could feel, the rope had been looped around his ankles and up to his wrists, effectively keeping him in a kneeling position. The dizziness made it impossible to even attempt to guess at how he might free himself.

Biting back the wave of nausea that threatened to consume him, he tried again to think clearly. It wasn't easy to keep his thoughts clear when they were continuously washed away in surges of pain. The last coherent memory he had was of something hard striking the back of his head, then blackness. There had been a lot of dreams and distorted visions as he worked his way back toward consciousness, few of them pleasant. He could not remember if the faces in them were those of his captors, or figments from his nightmares.

Joe had no concept of time passing. There was no way to tell how long he had been locked in wherever he was being held, or even how long it had been since he woke fully. He also had no idea who was holding him or even why.

He inhaled deeply, hoping to hold back the sickness enough to move even a little bit. He pulled his arms forward, trying to see if the knots would give any. The experimental tugs on his bonds proved that they would not come away easily, and kneeling made it difficult to balance himself enough to force the ropes. Indeed, all that his attempts accomplished was to pull the knots even tighter.

Even these slight movements were more than his injured body could bear causing him to weave dizzily. It was obvious that he would not be able to free himself. He was alone. He was hurt, possibly seriously. And he had no idea why this was happening.

He did the only thing he could for the moment. He closed his eyes and tried to gather his strength.

********

"Nothing?” Ben asked, trying to hide his impatience as Adam poured a cup of coffee. Fear had begun to take anger's place as the sun rose to find Joe still missing. Ben had sent Adam and Hoss out searching for their wayward brother as soon as they'd finished breakfast. Adam had just returned -- without Joe.

"Not a sign, Pa. I rode into Virginia City and talked to everybody who might have seen him yesterday. Joe deposited the money in the bank, picked up the mail and even bought a couple of things at the mercantile. Cosmo said he was in the saloon playing poker, but left early saying he had to get home in time for supper. No one saw him after that. I checked along the road coming and going, but there was no sign of him anywhere."

"Where could he be?” Ben muttered. It was impossible that Joe would just drop off the face of the earth with absolutely no one to see it happen. Someone knew where he was.

Adam inhaled deeply before speaking. "I don't know. Hoss went to check with Mitch Devlin and some other boys to see if they might know anything."

Ben shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what I'm going to do with that boy."

"Hoss will be back soon. He's probably found Joe with Mitch or one of his other friends.” Adam gently put his hand on his father's shoulder.

"I sure hope.......” Ben's words were cut short as Hoss burst into the room, Greg Walker and Sheriff Coffee following close behind.

"Hoss, what......?” Ben began in astonishment.

"Pa, Mr. Walker and Roy have something to show you. Go ahead, Mr. Walker, show Pa and Adam,” Hoss urged.

"Ben, I found this on my doorstep this morning,” Greg said quietly as he held up Joe's gun belt.

The color drained from Ben's face. He reached out with trembling hands, taking the fine tooled leather gun belt. There was no mistake -- it was Joe's. Ben was silent, only the haunted look in his eyes reflecting his inner torment. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained.

"Why would Joe's gun belt be on your doorstep, Greg? I don't understand. How--how did it get there?” he stammered.

"There's more, Ben. This note was attached,” Roy said gently, offering him a tattered piece of paper.

It read:

Walker,

We got your boy. If you testify against Bob Cole, your son dies. You keep your mouth shut, we let the kid go as soon as Bob is free. Don't try any tricks, we'll be watching.

Ben clutched the gun belt to his chest. "You mean whoever has Joe thinks he has Trent?” he said quietly, his dark eyes searching Greg Walker's face. Greg held his gaze for a moment, then lowered his eyes.

"Looks that way. Greg is the only witness who actually saw Bob Cole gun Steve Bell down. I figure Cole's brothers probably took Joe thinking he was Trent. Both boys are the same age; have dark curly hair and are about the same size. As far as we know, neither Joe nor Trent has ever met any of the Cole's. Looks like a case of mistaken identity," Roy explained.

"When is Cole's trial, Mr. Walker?” Adam felt a knot of dread twist his stomach.

"Friday morning,” Walker answered, then looked to Ben. "What do you want me to do, Ben? I'll do whatever you think best. It's my fault Joe is in this mess. If you don't want me to testify, then just say the word."

After moments of uncertain silence, Ben spoke, his voice choked with emotion. "It's not your fault, Greg. And it won't make any difference if you testify or not. We have to find Joe and we don't have a lot of time. The Cole's are bound to realize they have the wrong person before the trial even starts. There would be no reason to keep Joe alive..." His voice tapered off. He cleared his throat and continued. "Greg, where is Trent?"

"I sent him and his mother to San Francisco a few days ago. I didn't want them to be here during the trial,” Greg admitted quietly. He felt a certain amount of guilt that his son was safe while Ben's was in terrible danger. But, he felt a tremendous measure of relief as well.

"Good. At least we know Trent's safe. Adam, you get the men from the south pasture and Hoss you get those working at the mines. I'll round up the men working at the corral. We'll meet at the Virginia City crossroads," Ben barked out orders in quick succession.

"Yes sir, Pa," said Hoss as he practically ran out the door. His worry demanded that he do something, anything, to find Joe before it was too late.

"I'll get a posse together, Ben," Roy declared as he followed Hoss.

Adam gently gripped his father's arm. "Don't worry, Pa. We'll find him, I promise."

Ben nodded slightly, giving Adam a sad smile. "I know we will, Adam. I know."

"Ben, I'm coming with you.” Greg announced as Adam went out the door. "It's my doing that's got Joe in this mess and I aim to help get him out."

"I appreciate that, Greg. Let's go, we don't have much time."

********

Joe was blinded when the door swung open and light flooded the tiny room. He had spent most of the past few hours--at least he thought it was hours-- slipping in and out of consciousness, sickened by the pain in his head. Waves of nausea continued to crash over him. No one had bothered to check on him until now.

He heard voices talking, but it was impossible to understand what they were saying. It was all just a blur of light, color, and sound that filled his head and made it feel like it would burst at any second. A dim thought made its way through the aching mass of pain that his mind had become. He was getting worse.

He knew he had to concentrate. If he was going to make it out of this, he had to know who was holding him and why. He blinked his eyes, hoping to clear his vision enough that he could see who was looming over him.

"Bring him outta there," a voice ordered. The injured captive was grasped by his collar, dragged from the room and dumped unceremoniously to the floor. Joe groaned in pain at the impact, rolling over until he lay gasping on his side.

Jess Cole looked down in disgust at the young man on the floor. He was no doctor, but it didn't require vast medical knowledge to realize that the young man was seriously injured. Joe was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Jess bent down and turned the dark head, carefully probing the huge discolored lump at Joe's temple. He didn't know what he was bothering -- he wouldn't be able to detect any kind of injury. He didn't like the amount of blood caked on the side of Joe's face. Even with his lack of experience, he knew that was not a good sign. "You idiot!” he shouted, ignoring the cringe of the huddled figure at his feet. "What did you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything!” Morgan protested. "I haven't touched him since he was brought here."

"Tanner must have hit him harder then he thought when we first grabbed him," Celeste said quietly.

Jess ran a hand through his short-cropped hair in frustration. "You are responsible for keeping an eye on him," he snarled, throwing the cup of coffee he was holding across the room. "This whole plan will fall apart if this kid dies before we can get Bob back."

"He didn't look this bad when Tanner and Celeste brought him in here. I swear, I didn't do a thing to him," Morgan maintained. "Like Celeste said, Tanner must have hit him harder than he thought."

Celeste looked down at the injured man, trying to judge just how badly he was hurt. She didn't think he was faking it. No way he could fake looking that awful.

Seeing the silent inspection, Jess spoke again, his voice hard with anger. "You'd better make sure that he holds out until Friday. If he dies before then, our whole plan falls apart. You two are responsible for taking care of him. You hear me, Morgan? Celeste?"

"Yeah...no problem," Morgan muttered. "I'll watch him like he was my own kid brother."

Jess nodded, pointing his finger at the two of them. "You'd better," he warned. "He'd better be in one piece, or we're all in big trouble."

Joe felt two pairs of hands grasp him under his bound arms and drag him back into the confines of what he now realized was a small storage room. They settled him back down, being extremely careful of his injuries. But their concern was limited. They made no move to loosen his bonds, or even to give him the sip of water that he would have committed murder for.

His head had cleared enough that he could make out at least a little of the conversation. He still couldn't tell who his captors were, but he did know that they intended to keep him alive. For a little while, at least. That nudged the odds ever so slightly in his favor.

He knew he couldn't count on any kind of rescue. No one knew where he was. If he were going to make it out of this, he'd have to devise his own rescue.

It wasn't going to be a simple matter by any stretch of the imagination. He was alone and hurt, locked away in a darkness that, in his confusion, frightened him as much as the bright light and colors did. He couldn't let his fear and hurt control him. He had to overcome it.

The first thing was to get himself moving. It was not going to be easy, but he had no other choice. He had never felt worse in his life. His stomach churned, his head felt as if it were going to explode at even the smallest movement. But, he had convinced himself that he needed to be free of the ropes only a minute, then he could fight his way out and get to safety.

He didn't move when he heard the door open. He knew that if they wanted to keep him alive for any length of time, they were going to have to feed him and give him water. And these outlaws didn't strike him as the kind who would feed him with their own hands. Especially since they seemed convinced that he was so badly injured that he would never even be able to attempt escape.

He felt their hands on him, heard their muttered curses about having to take care of him, then they dragged him out. He let a moan escape him, knowing that if he convinced them he was hurting more than he really was they might drop their guard. He needed any advantage he could get if this was going to work.

Yes! He felt their hands on his wrists and ankles, the ropes loosening and blood rushing back painfully into his hands and feet. He forced them to move just a little to allow some feeling back into the cramped limbs. With his eyes closed, he didn't see that what he thought were small, carefully controlled movements were nothing more than spasmodic twitches.

He felt them slip away, then one came close again. He was turned over onto his back, one hand cradling his head while the other brought a glass of water to his lips. Once he had drunk, they would tie him up again. As parched as Joe was, he would have to forego the water now. He could drink a river of it once he was free. This was his best and only chance for escape.

He jerked suddenly, smashing his elbow into the face of the man holding him. The guard gave a hoarse cry of shock and pain as Joe's blow made contact. The hands holding him fell away and Joe scrambled to his feet, staggering with the effort to hold his balance.

He had to find a way out before the other could react. If he could get out of the cabin and into the rocks, he might be able to get away. His blurred vision scanned the room as he shuffled toward the single door. He forced his body to move, to run as fast as he could. To his distorted comprehension, what he believed to be running was merely a slow stumbling gait that sent him weaving around the room.

Something struck him in the back of his legs. The other guard had reacted a lot faster than he had anticipated and tackled him. Joe cried out as he felt himself falling to the floor. The breath was knocked from his body. He couldn't move. He struggled to get his arms beneath him so he could make it back to his feet, but his body refused to obey even that simple command.

He felt the man who had caught him grab his arms and drag him back to here his companion was struggling to his feet, one hand cupped over the broken nose that spilled blood over his fingers and onto his shirt.

"He broke my nose," he groaned, glaring down at Joe with a look that promised murder. "He broke my nose!"

Joe could only stare at him blankly, seeming not to understand what had just happened. His wits, his concentration had fled with his lost strength. The empty, dazed look in the Joe's eyes infuriated the injured man.

"You no good..." With a snarl of pain and rage, he drew his leg back and kicked out violently, the toe of his boot contacting hard at the bruised spot on Joe's temple.

Joe cried out in pain as a wave of black washed over him, drowning out the world.

*******

"Hello? Can you hear me? Mister Walker? Can you hear me?"

Joe blinked into the fevered-warped halo of a single candle flame. It was late; instincts told him that much despite the confusion that lingered. It was late and he was badly hurt. He looked up into the face of a young girl, the same girl that he'd seen just before he was attacked.

"W-who are you?" he stuttered, his tongue thick.

"My name is Celeste, Mr. Walker,” the girl answered quietly.

"Mr. Walker?” Joe was more confused than ever.

Celeste looked at the prisoner, a worried frown on her young face. "Yes, you are Trent Walker, aren't you?” A sudden fear washed over Celeste. What if her brothers had kidnapped the wrong man? That meant her brother, Bob would hang anyway. She had to know for sure.

"Mister, if you're not Trent Walker, who are you?" she prodded.

When Joe didn't answer, Celeste ran to the table to get a canteen. "Drink," she ordered as she held knelt on the floor beside the young man. She held the canteen to Joe's lips, not giving him a chance to refuse, raising the man's head and shoulders just enough to keep him from choking on the water.

Joe frowned, then sipped on the water, forcing himself to swallow slowly and gratefully. When he'd drunk all he could, he lay back and sighed softly. Celeste began to question him again.

"Mister, I have to know who you are if you're not Trent Walker,” she said anxiously as she wet the hem of her skirt and gently sponged the sweat from Joe's face.

Joe opened his eyes slowly trying to focus on the face above him. "Joe, Joe Cartwright. I have..." Joe paused, short of breath and knowing that strength was draining from him even faster than sweat. "Please, help--help me..."

Celeste was shocked to learn the young man she and her brothers had kidnapped was not Trent Walker, but the son of one of the richest men in the territory. Everybody knew of Ben Cartwright and his Ponderosa. She knew that when her brothers discovered their mistake, Joe Cartwright would die. Celeste had finally agreed to Tanner's plan to kidnap Trent Walker only after Tanner had convinced her it was the only way they could save Bob. But, Joe Cartwright was an innocent bystander. He had nothing to do with Bob's trial. Still, she knew Tanner would want to kill the young man before her. He would be what Morgan called a 'loose end'. She couldn't let that happen, she had to do something. By the time she returned her attention to Joe, the young man was fading back toward unconsciousness, the fever coursing throughout his body.

"Don't worry, Mr. Cartwright. I'll take care of you," she promised.

Celeste knew there was no way she could take the injured man to safety. Her only choice was to find Joe's family and lead them back to the hideout. But, what would her brothers say? She decided she didn't care. There had been enough killing. The young man that she had helped kidnap was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn't even understand why he was being held captive. Her brothers wouldn't be back until late this evening. If she left right away, she could ride to the Ponderosa and get help before they even missed their prisoner. Celeste ran to the bed grabbing the thicker of the two quilts. She returned to Joe's side and gently spread it over his still body. Joe stirred, shifting uncomfortably, the hint of a moan breaking his silence. Taking care to close and lock the door, Celeste hurried to find help.

********

Adam rubbed his forehead, wishing for an entire box of headache powders to ease the ache of a monstrous tension headache. "We'll find him. We've still got time before the trial starts. As soon as it's light out, we'll head out again. He has to be out there somewhere.” Adam wasn't sure who he was trying to convince -- his father or himself.

Ben turned away and moved toward the stairwell, feeling all at once the fear and anguish that came with having a child in such danger.

Adam searched his father's face, lost in thought. There was no mistaking the look on Ben Cartwright's face. Adam had seen it only twice before -- when Hoss' mother was killed in an Indian attack and then again when Joe's mother was killed in a riding accident. He had hoped never to see it again. "Pa?"

Dark eyes filled with despair and fear looked at him. "I'm all right," he said slowly.

Their conversation was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. They all shared a glance before Hoss jumped up from his chair near the fireplace. He hurried to the door, surprised and a little confused when he found the visitor to be a young girl.

"Hello, Ma'am. Can I help you?” Hoss asked.

"I'm looking for Mr. Ben Cartwright," she said in a timid voice, lowering her eyes. "It--it's about Joe.

Ben hurried down the stairway and ushered her inside.

"Please come in. I'm Ben Cartwright. Where is Joe? Has something happened to him?” The words came in a rush.

Celeste looked around astounded at the size and beauty of the room she stood in. For a moment she forgot why she was here. Ben's gentle touch on her arm brought her back to the present. He led her to the sofa, motioning for her to sit. The three men watched the girl with trepidation, realizing this child might be their best hope of finding Joe. Celeste took a deep breath and began her story.

"... I'm scared of what my brothers might do, Mr. Cartwright. But, it wouldn't be right for your son to die..." Her voice tapered off.

Ben sighed in relief and patted Celeste on the shoulder. "You're doing the right thing, Celeste. We'll make sure nothing happens to you. Don't you worry about a thing.” Celeste looked down at the floor and nodded her head.

"You want me to fetch Sheriff Coffee, Pa?” Hoss asked.

Ben pursed his lips in thought for a moment. "No, I want you to come with me. Get one of the men to go after the sheriff and the doctor as well.” He put his arm on Celeste's shoulder, knowing that he was asking a lot. "Celeste, will you show us where Joe is being held? You don't have to worry. We're not going to let anything happen to you, I promise."

Celeste was silent for a moment, then nodded. This time her nod was more confident.

"Good girl," Ben complimented. "Now, here's what we've got to do...."

********

The first rule of any battle, Adam considered, was knowing when it was time to fight, and when it was time to step back and wait for the next opportunity. The battle itself could be terrible and dangerous, but he always hated the waiting part far more. It was draining, taking concentration on NOT acting when instinct was crying out to do something. Anything. Especially when the one at the center of the battle was a loved one. They had lucked out this time. They were on their way to Joe. However, due to the impending darkness, they had to ride slowly and Adam's patience was wearing thin.

Just hang in there Joe. Just a little longer.

As they neared their destination, it was decided that Celeste would enter the cabin alone while the Cartwright's hid in the shadows outside -- just in case. Much to her dismay, Celeste found Tanner and Morgan sitting at the table.

"Where you been, girl?” Tanner asked gruffly. It was obvious her brother had been drinking.

"Just went for a ride,” Celeste answered quietly, her heart throbbing painfully in her chest.

"It's a good thing you showed up when you did. Jess will be here any minute now. He wouldn't like it if he knew you'd been out riding around all by yourself," he scolded.

"Somebody's coming!” Morgan said as the sound of hoofbeats filled the air.

Morgan and Tanner both drew their guns and hurried to the door. Seconds later the door swung open as Jess entered.

"How's our guest holding up?" he asked his brothers.

Morgan and Tanner looked at each other before answering. "He's been quiet all day."

Jess smiled coldly, motioning at Morgan's broken nose. "Not completely, I see."

"Yeah, well.... He tried something this morning. But we took care of it."

"Bring him out."

Celeste watched with rising alarm as the door to the small room was opened. Morgan reached inside, grabbed Joe by his arm and dragged him out into the open. Joe was unconscious and seemingly lifeless as he was pulled out across the floor where he was carelessly dropped. Celeste fought down the urge to go to Joe, all too conscious of what a fatal error that would be.

Only the slight rise and fall of Joe's chest suggested that he was still alive. The entire right side of his head was deeply bruised and blood caked down the side of his face from a recent deep wound in his scalp. The skin beneath the bruises was pasty white, and he appeared to be in shock. Celeste knew she had to work fast. Joe Cartwright was not going to last much longer.

Tanner pulled his gun, pointing it towards Joe. "I say we just go ahead and get rid of the kid. Why keep him alive, Jess? You're gonna kill him anyway, ain't ya?"

Jess didn't reply, merely watched and waited.

Tanner grinned and cocked the hammer on the revolver. "I'm not afraid of shooting him. I don't mind getting my hands a little dirty, so if you don't mind..." He aimed the weapon down at Joe's defenseless form.

"Tanner, no!' Celeste screamed as she pushed into Tanner, knocking the gun from his hand. The gun fell to the floor and discharged, the bullet entering the wall just inches from Morgan's leg.

At the first sound of gunfire, Ben sprang into action. "Let's go!" Adam, Hoss and half the Ponderosa ranch hands charged into the room, catching the outlaws off guard.

Hoss struck Jess quickly, the first blow knocking the gun from his hand. The second punch sent the young man flying across the room. He smashed into the wall, where he rolled; they lay still, dazed and bruised.

Adam was busy dealing with Morgan, who was caught by surprise and did not have time to draw his weapon. Adam landed a blow to his broken nose. It took only a light blow to the injured face to send the man screaming to the floor.

Tanner realized they were outnumbered and quietly surrendered, avoiding more bloodshed. In moments, it was over.

Ben saw that Celeste kept Joe covered as best she could, and was hovering about the unconscious man, her face pale with fear. He moved to where Celeste and Joe were huddled and knelt at his son's side. Celeste looked up to him with terrified blue eyes.

"How's Joe?” Adam asked his father.

Ben did not respond immediately as he quickly examined his son. Joe's skin was clammy to the touch, the muscles beneath the skin slack. His pulse was weak, his breathing uneven and shallow.

"He's badly injured. We have to get him home quickly," Ben said, trying not to move Joe any more than necessary. In his condition, any mishap might cause more harm.

Adam turned to one of the ranch hands. "Get that wagon up here. Now!"

Ben took Joe's hand in his, gently holding it. The fingers were ice cold to the touch, as if Joe had been kept in an icehouse. In his condition, the room he had been held in was little better than if he had been left out in the woods on a cold night. Adam knelt next to his father, shaking his head at the sight of the injuries the youngest Cartwright had suffered.

Celeste sat near them, ignored in their concern. "He-he's gonna be all right," the young girl insisted.

Ben and Adam both looked up, seeing genuine concern and sympathy in the young girl's eyes. She had risked her own life to help them. Perhaps there was hope for her yet.

Adam nodded, gently reaching out to brush a lock of blood-drenched, tangled curls from Joe's forehead. He then patted his father on the shoulder, trying to offer a measure of comfort and empathy.

A slight smile tugged at the corners of Ben's mouth as he accepted that solace. They sat there together; carefully watching over Joe until Hoss announced the wagon was ready.

********

Ben, Adam and Hoss sat impatiently in the living room of the Ponderosa as they waited for word on Joe's condition. It had been nearly four hours since Joe was first brought home. There was no need for conversation, no need to express the fear and anguish that all three men were feeling so profoundly. This whole horrible episode had brought them to a point where they had developed an even deeper understanding of one another. There was no need to express their shared fear verbally.

All three men were on their feet in an instant when they saw Doctor Paul Martin descending the stairs. Looking into the matching expressions of worry and anxiousness, Paul waited for the barrage of questions.

"How is he, Paul?” Ben spoke first.

"He suffered some trauma to his head, but I'm not expecting any problems and I think that with time and proper care, we can expect a full recovery."

Adam gave a sigh of relief and Hoss let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Ben merely closed his eyes, the tension on his face finally easing. Adam patted him on the shoulder, the smile on his face speaking volumes.

"I want to see him,” Ben said.

"Of course, Ben. But just for a few minutes. Aside from the head injury, he's also dehydrated and suffering some effects of exposure, so we need to keep a close eye on him, at least through the first twenty-four hours. I've given Hop Sing all the instructions. I'll be back later to check on him."

"Thank you, Paul," Ben said as he shook hands with the doctor.

********

"I wish Pa and Adam would get back. They've been gone an awful long time,” Joe complained. He was sitting up in bed, fingering the spot around the bandages that protected his head injury.

"Just settle down, Joe. They'll be back anytime now. These things take time,” Hoss reminded him.

"I know," Joe sighed. "I just want this to be all over. I hope the judge went easy on Celeste. Adam said if it hadn't been for her, I would probably be dead right now."

At that moment, Hoss and Joe heard two horses coming into the yard.

Hoss hurried to the window and glanced out. "They're back," he informed Joe.

A few minutes later, Ben and Adam entered Joe's room.

"What happened?” Joe asked eagerly.

"Well, Bob Cole was convicted of murder and will hang. Jess, Tanner and Morgan were all three convicted of kidnapping and attempted murder. They'll spend at least twenty years behind bars in the federal penitentiary,” Ben reported.

Joe nodded, then asked, "What about Celeste?"

"She came through with flying colors. It was difficult for her to admit what she and her brothers had done. The judge was going to give her a stiff sentence, but I reminded him that she was just a little girl. It's not her fault her brothers raised her to be an outlaw. Besides, without Celeste, you would have been killed. He finally relented and gave her a suspended sentence,” Ben told him.

"What's going to happen to her now, Pa? I mean, her brothers are either going to hang or spend years in jail. She's just a kid.
Who's going to take care of her?” Joe wanted to know.

"Don't worry about her, little brother," Adam remarked. "Celeste's grandmother lives back east. Pa sent her a telegram explaining what had happened. Mrs. Cole sent a wire back that she had been trying to persuade Bob to let Celeste come live with her ever since their parents were killed five years ago. Pa's already bought Celeste a ticket. She leaves tomorrow on the morning stage.

Joe smiled. "Good. I'm glad about that. I wish I'd had the chance to thank her. Sounds like everything is taken care of though."

"The big question now is what we're going to do with you," Hoss laughed. "You're turning out to be more trouble than you're worth."

"Gee, thanks. Nice to know that you're wanted,” Joe said sourly, then grinned as his brothers burst into laughter.

Ben looked down at him with the tolerant fondness that only a parent could manage.

Joe glanced at him. "I'm really sorry about all this, Pa," he said quietly, lowering his hazel eyes.

"No need for you to be sorry. It's not your fault you were kidnapped,” Ben said meaningfully, patting his son fondly on the head, careful to avoid the bandages. "Now, why don't you get some rest. We'll talk later."

Ben, Adam and Hoss left the room as Joe snuggled down into the blankets, closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Ben watched from the door for a moment until he was sure Joe was sleeping, then, offering a silent prayer of thanks for the safe return of his son, quietly closed the door.

*****END*****
 

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