Night of Terror
“Hoss!” Ben Cartwright bellowed. “Get a move on, we’ve got to go.” Ben stood in the center of the Ponderosa great room, hands planted firmly on his hips. He all but tapped his foot with impatience.
“I’m coming, Pa,” Hoss called back. “I’m just getting Little Joe settled.” Hoss appeared carrying his younger brother in his arms. Little Joe’s left leg was encased in a cumbersome plaster cast, and he had his one good arm wrapped firmly around his brother’s neck.
Ben’s face softened as Hoss gently settled his little brother on the settee, propping the heavy cast on a pillow, tucking a blanket around Joe’s legs, and repositioning the sling that supported his plaster-encased arm. As the big man puttered around his younger brother, Ben’s thoughts drifted back in time. He cringed inwardly as he remembered the ranch hand riding the lathered horse up to the ranch house door, frantically calling for his boss. Ben could remember the clutch of fear that had gripped him as the hand had gasped out the message sent from the corral where Joe had been breaking horses. Ben had calmly issued orders for the wagon to be hitched up, and had confirmed that a doctor had been sent for, but he had driven the wagon himself, at a speed he would have decried in one of his sons. His mind shuddered at the vision of his youngest son sprawled unmoving in the center of the corral, his left leg twisted at an impossible angle, shards of bone protruding from his left arm. The hands who had been clustered around Joe’s prone form had scattered at the boss’ approach, turning their heads away at the naked fear displayed on the older man’s face.
“How long ago did Red leave to fetch the doctor?” he had snapped out, while his hands had reached to gently cradle his son’s curly head. He had heard the description of the rogue horse tossing his son like a rag doll, while those same hands were running up and down bones, checking for less visible injuries. He heard his own voice directing the hands to find something to use as a stretcher, watched as though through someone else’s eyes that harrowing ride back to the house, this time at a more sedate pace, with Ben riding in the back cushioning Joe’s body from the jolting of the wagon.
Ben heaved a sigh, Joe had been lucky this time, a leg broken in three places, and a badly fractured arm, but he would survive. The spasm of fear swept through him again at the sudden thought “This Time”. He knew that Joe wasn’t about to stop breaking horses, and Ben would never ask him to. They both knew that there would be a next time.
“Pa,” Hoss’ voice was concerned. “Are you okay, Pa?”
Ben shook off the memories and smiled at his sons. “Sorry, Hoss. I was just thinking...” Ben’s voice trailed off. “You ready to ride, Son?”
“Yeah, Pa, I’m all set.” Hoss moved to the sideboard and picked up his gunbelt, strapping it around his broad frame. “Hey, Little Joe, you behave yourself while I’m gone, ya hear?” Hoss grinned at his little brother.
“Aw, what’s the fun in that, brother?” Joe replied, letting loose his distinctive cackle. “With you and Pa in Reno for a week, Adam and I can have some real fun.”
“Did I hear my name?” A new voice called out. Adam Cartwright entered the room from the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee.
“Yeah, Older Brother. I was just telling Pa about the party we’re having while he’s gone.” Joe said grinning wickedly.
“Adam, you keep this boy under control,” Ben ordered sternly, but a smile lurked at the corners of his mouth.
He pulled Adam aside and lowered his voice. “Take care of Joe, Adam.” he said seriously. “The doc doesn’t want him moving around unnecessarily. He’s worried about that leg; it’s not healing as well as he likes. I wish I didn’t have to leave right now.” Ben’s face plainly displayed the depth of his worry.
Adam’s eyes were warmly sympathetic and he firmly clasped his father’s arm. “I’ll take care of him, Pa. He won’t move from that settee. You know you have to be in Reno for those negotiations and Hoss has to check out that bull before Thompson sells it to someone else. Joe will be fine, I’ll make sure of it.” Adam threw his arm around his father’s shoulders and walked with him to the settee.
Ben embraced Joe fondly. “Behave, son. I’ll be home soon.” he said warmly. “I’m sorry to leave you right now, Joseph.”
“Aw, Pa, I’ll be fine,” Joe groaned. “Don’t worry about me.”
Ben just smiled at his son. “It’s my job to worry about you, Joe,” he responded. “Let’s go, Hoss.”
Adam walked with his father and brother to the door. He waved to them from the porch, then returned to the great room, shutting the door behind him. He smiled at his youngest brother, who gamely returned his grin. “I’ve got to go do the barn chores, Joe, then I’ll come back and beat you in a game of checkers, okay?”
“You don’t have to play nursemaid, Adam,” Joe flashed back. “I’ll be fine, you do what you need to do.”
“I know that, tough guy.” Adam responded lightly, hoping to avoid sending Joe into a temper. “Do you need anything before I go out?” He moved around, putting books, a bowl of fruit, and a pitcher of water along with a glass within Joe’s reach.
Joe laughed and pointed at the door. “Go! Stop fussing over me,” he commanded in mock anger.
Adam chuckled and patted Joe’s head before he left to take care of the chores. He glanced back in time to see Joe lay his head back against the arm of the settee a look of absolute despair on his face. Adam slipped out the door, worry for his brother dominating his thoughts.
*****************************
The chores finished, Adam spent some time conferring with the ranch foreman, issuing some orders and discussing solutions to some nagging problems. There were several things Adam felt needed his personal attention but his promise to watch over his brother meant he would be running the ranch from his father’s desk this week. When he re-entered the ranch house he saw that Joe had fallen asleep a book open across his chest. Adam moved softly to the settee and leaned over to pull the book from his brother’s grasp. His heart melted when he saw the traces of tears on Joe’s cheeks. Joe stirred and opened his eyes as he felt the book slipping from his hands. He smiled sleepily up at Adam.
“Sorry, Joe, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Adam murmured as he put the book on the table. He sat down next to the book, leaning forward and watching Joe intently.
“That’s okay, Adam,” Joe replied, his smile fading under Adam’s intense scrutiny. “What’s wrong?” he asked nervously.
“You want to talk about it, Joe?” Adam’s voice was low, carefully avoiding the sound of sympathy.
Joe lowered his eyes. “Talk about what, Adam?” he asked belligerently.
Adam sighed. “About what’s eating you up inside,” he answered calmly. “I can see that your all torn up, Joe. You can’t hide it from me.”
Joe flushed, but raised his head to look Adam squarely in the eye. “Fine, Adam, since I can’t have any privacy, I’ll tell you what’s eating me. What’s tearing me up inside is that I’m worried about my leg. I know Pa and Doc Martin don’t think it’s healing right.” Joe’s voice shook just a little. “Well, they’re right, it’s not. I’ve had broken bones before and this one just doesn’t feel right. What’s eating me, is that I think I may never walk right ever again!” Joe’s voice rose throughout his speech and he ended with a choking sob, as he buried his head in his hand.
Adam reached out for him, careful not to disturb the injured arm. “Oh, Joe,” he whispered. “I had no idea that things were so serious. I knew Pa was worried, but I had no idea that you felt something was wrong.”
Joe tried to resist Adam’s embrace, but his despair was too great, and he ended up leaning into the shelter of his brother’s arms. “Well, now you know,” he said quietly. “But there isn’t much you can do about it.”
Adam frowned thoughtfully. “We’re going to have to wait and see, Joe. But if it doesn’t heal right, there are other doctors, specialists in big cities. They may be able to help.”
“Yeah, sure, Adam.” Joe’s skepticism was clearly evident in his tone.
Adam patted Joe’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t fret about it now, Joe. Give that leg some time. Let’s see what happens before you get all worked up about it.”
Joe smiled weakly. “I try to stay calm, but it’s hard not to worry.”
Adam smiled back and said soothingly “Now, there’s that brave little brother that I know so well. We’ll fight this together, Joe.” He reached over and grabbed the checkerboard. “Now, how about that game, Little brother?”
“That’ll be fine, Adam,” Joe said quietly. He listlessly set up his pieces under Adam’s concerned gaze.
Adam sighed. Joe wasn’t hiding his feelings anymore, since Adam had discovered his secret, and Adam was consumed with worry. This wasn’t going to be easy for his spirited younger brother. He knew as well as Joe that the leg might never be right again. Adam vowed that no matter what the outcome he would stand beside his brother and help him face the future.
******************************
Lightning flashed suddenly, illuminating the darkness with vivid streaks of white fire. Adam swore under his breath as he heard a muffled banging coming from outside the house. He looked at Joe, who was dozing on the settee. The brothers had spent a quiet afternoon and evening together. The game of checkers had evolved into a series of games, until Little Joe had pleaded tiredness. Adam had spent the time before dinner working at his father’s desk while Little Joe slept. Adam was concerned over Joe’s condition, he knew that Little Joe was far from recovered from his injuries, and his need for sleep was a reflection of that. With Hop Sing on a visit to yet another cousin, Adam had fixed a simple meal which he had brought to Little Joe, who couldn’t be moved from the settee to eat. It had been decided that Joe would be brought out to join the family during the day, and carried back to his room at night, but not moved in between. Doc Martin was insistent that Joe keep as still as possible, to encourage the healing of his mangled leg.
Even as Adam glanced at Little Joe, another bolt of lightening, followed by a booming peal of thunder jerked his brother awake. He looked at Adam with startled eyes. “What was that?” he queried urgently.
“We’re in for quite a storm,” Adam replied, moving towards the door. “I hear something banging out in the barn. I’ve got to go check on it. Don’t move, Joe. I’ll be right back.”
Joe snorted in disgust. “I don’t think I’ll be running any races out to the barn tonight, Older Brother, so I guess I’ll just stay here on the settee.”
Another booming crash of thunder almost hid the sound of the big door being thrown open. Both Adam and Joe recoiled as several men surged into the room, guns drawn, seemingly blown in by the latest gust of wind. The men fanned out around the room, guns drawn and pointing at Adam and Little Joe. Adam took several steps backwards towards the settee, but stopped when one of the men gestured with his pistol. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” Adam snapped out.
“The boys and I need a place to hide out for awhile, Mr. ....” the apparent leader of the gang spoke up, no trace of humor in his face. He was about six feet tall, hair hanging in limp strands around his head, with a full beard flecked with gray.
Adam’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tight with anger. “The name’s Cartwright. If you needed shelter you could have knocked on the door and asked.” Out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw Joe struggling to rise from the settee, the heavy casts hampering his movements. He swung around quickly. “No, Joe. Stay right where you are.” he ordered fiercely.
The other man smiled, it wasn’t a pretty sight as it revealed the gaps in his teeth. “Cartwright, eh? Well, you’ve got quite a spread here, Mr. Cartwright. If you don’t give us any trouble, you might stay alive to enjoy it.” He waved the pistol in Joe’s direction, making Adam tense. “The kid looks pretty banged up. He’s not supposed to get up, am I right?”
“He can’t be moved at all,” Adam responded grimly moving closer to his brother. He wanted to deflect attention from the helpless young man on the settee, knowing all too well that Joe’s hair trigger temper could get them all in trouble.
One of the men spoke up. “Hey, Slater, want us to dump this kid off the sofa, so’s you can set down?” He moved toward Joe purposefully, making Joe again struggle to maneuver himself into a more upright position.
Adam flung himself toward the man, placing himself between the desperado and his target. “I said he can’t be moved.” he hissed out through clenched teeth.
The other man’s pistol cocked, the sound shattering the sudden stillness in the room. Little Joe, pale and trembling with the effort, managed to pull himself to a sitting position and swing one leg off the settee. Adam stood his ground, silently daring the other man to pull the trigger.
“Adam, it’s okay.” Joe gasped out. “I’m moving.” His face contorted in pain as the heavy cast pulled at the fragile bones beneath the plaster.
Adam swiftly turned back to Joe, placing both hands on his shoulders to hold him still. “Joe, don’t move!” he commanded. “You know what the doctor said!” He looked at Slater intently, a challenge on his face. “Tell your man to back off!” Adam snarled.
Slater smiled grimly, his head nodding as if in silent confirmation of some inner thought. “Used to giving orders, aren’t you Mr. Cartwright?” he said, expecting no answer. “Leave the kid alone, Hawkins. He’s fine where he is, at least we know he won’t give us any trouble.” he added with a glare at his underling.
Adam carefully suppressed any look of satisfaction from his features, not wanting to antagonize the men who had them at such a disadvantage. He carefully slipped his hands under the bulky cast and eased Joe’s leg back onto the pillow. He repositioned the sling that supported Joe’s arm, and then helped Joe sit back in a more comfortable position. Joe was white-faced and sweating through the maneuvers, his leg hurting more than it had in days. Joe refused to speculate on whether he had re-injured himself, quickly starving off his imagination. Adam’s face was grave as he watched Joe’s struggles, he too was trying not to imagine the damage being done to the fragile, half-knitted bones in Joe’s leg.
***************************
The minutes ticked by slowly. Adam perched on the edge of the table, as close to Joe as he could get. The six men scavenged through the house, always leaving two or three sitting with guns at the ready, guarding the two Cartwrights. The sounds of plates crashing in the kitchen mingled with thumps from the bedrooms of the house as drawers were pulled open and dumped on the floor. Any time the outlaws found anything of interest whoops and hollers would resound through the house. The discovery of the wine cellar gave added glee to the men, and they were rapidly consuming as much of Ben Cartwright’s expensive wine as they could guzzle.
Adam kept a watchful eye on Joe, who was obviously on edge. He murmured soothing words every once in a while, hoping that Joe would hang onto his temper. He knew how much it galled Joe to be in such a helpless position in the first place. To have his family waiting on him hand and foot, unable to do the simplest task for himself was hard on this independent young man. Now he was forced to sit back and watch his home invaded and he was particularly unable to stop it.
Slater strolled into the great room taking a deep pull at the bottle of vintage wine that he held in his hand. He came to a stop before the Cartwrights, smiling down at them, a nasty gleam in his eye. “You folks keep a good saloon.” he smirked, taking another deep drink. He offered the bottle to Adam. “Want a slug?” he inquired gleefully.
Adam gazed at him through narrowed eyes. “No, thanks.” he said waving aside the proffered bottle. “What are you going to do now, Slater? Why don’t you boys take what you want and move on?”
Slater chuckled with little humor behind the sound. A snarl twisted his lips into a grotesque parody of laughter. “I kind of like it right here, Mr. Cartwright. I think my boys are pretty happy enjoying your warm hospitality. It sounds like you want to get rid of us, now that’s right unfriendly of you.”
Joe made a rude noise, and glared fiercely at Slater. “We’re feeling a little unfriendly right now, Slater. Take your boys and get out of here now.” he snarled.
Slater’s eyes turned ice cold and he advanced on the injured boy. Adam stood hastily and interposed his body between Slater and Joe. Glaring down at his brother, Adam faced Slater, planting a flat hand against the man’s chest. “Don’t come any closer, Slater. I won’t let you touch him.” Adam’s words carried firm conviction and Slater halted his advance.
He knocked Adam’s hand from his chest, a murderous look in his eyes. “You keep that young pup quiet.” he snarled, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. “Or I’ll let my boys take him apart just for the fun of it.” He glared into Adam’s eyes for another long minute, then turned and loosed a stream of spit onto the gleaming hardwood floor before turning and walking back towards the kitchen.
Adam sat back down on the table with a thump, his breath whooshing from his body in a long sigh. He turned to look menacingly at Little Joe. “Little Brother, I could kill you right now.” he hissed softly. “When are you going to learn to keep your mouth shut?”
Joe’s eyes flashed green sparks for a moment, and then a look of contrition crossed his face as he realized how close he had come to putting Adam in grave danger. “I’m sorry, Adam. I just get so damn angry at being trussed up like a prize turkey. I want these men out of my house.” Joe’s eyes were bright with the turmoil of his emotions. He looked across the room in time to see one of Slater’s men fingering the gold framed portraits on Ben Cartwright’s desk. “Adam, he’s got my mother’s picture!” Joe’s voice was frantic, and he struggled against the plaster that held him down.
Adam firmly planted both hands on Joe’s shoulders and leaned in with all his strength. “Sit still, Joe.” he ordered. “We can’t let things like that bother us right now, understand.” He waited until he felt Joe stop struggling beneath his hands before he eased his grip. “We’re outnumbered, and you’re pretty badly banged up right now Joe. We’ve got to wait this out, and hope these guys get out of here at daylight.”
Joe returned Adam’s gaze intently. “And just what do we do if these men decide not to leave in the morning, Older Brother?” he asked quietly, his green eyes meeting Adam’s with calm intensity.
Adam dropped his eyes, his thoughts heading in a direction he didn’t want them to go. “I don’t know, Little Brother,” he sighed. “We’re in a bad spot, and I just don’t know what to do right now.”
Little Joe felt a cold shiver of fear cross his body. He had never heard Adam at a loss before, and he found it more frightening than anything he could ever remember. Joe had grown up letting Adam take the lead in most situations. Oh, they butted heads frequently, but Joe never forgot that Adam was twelve years older than he was, and he still idolized his older brother. Joe shivered again, involuntarily.
Adam saw the movement, and he reached for the blanket that had been dropped on the floor during the Slater gang’s arrival at the house. Tucking it around his little brother, Adam looked at the fearful young man. He smiled reassuringly. “I didn’t say we were licked, Joe,” he said calmly, reading the boy’s thoughts. “I just don’t have any ideas right now. I do know this, Little Brother. They’ll have to fight past me to get to you, and that’s a promise.” Adam’s dark eyes were hard, his smile as bleak as the winter wind.
Joe took comfort in the return of the Adam he knew so well. He smiled back serenely, causing Adam’s heart to constrict in his chest. “I can take care of myself, Adam.” he said with a return of his usual cocksureness. “You find a way to take out those men, and don’t you worry about me.”
Adam laughed at his fierce little brother, and threw an affectionate arm around Joe’s shoulders. “Little brother, you aren’t afraid of anything are you.” he said, still chuckling.
Joe’s eyes grew clouded, and the smile left his face abruptly. “Yeah, I’m afraid of never walking right ever again. I’ll face a dozen Slaters, Adam, but the thought of being crippled my whole life terrifies me.” He dropped his head, refusing to meet Adam’s eyes.
Adam crouched low, bringing himself to Joe’s eye level. He put one hand under Joe’s chin and tilted his head up, forcing Joe to look at him. “We’ll fight that together too, Joe. And that’s another promise.”
Joe met Adam’s eyes, and smiled slightly. “Thanks, Adam.” he said. It was a simple statement, and yet it conveyed a world of gratitude.
A rough hand spun Adam around, and he stared into the piggish eyes of the man known as Hawkins. “What are you two doing over here?” Hawkins asked belligerently. “Looks like you’re planning something, to me.”
Adam uncoiled from his crouch, his muscles rippling smoothly beneath his black shirt. He pulled himself slowly up to his full height and looked down at the other man. “My brother was cold, I was giving him a blanket,” he replied simply, but there was an edge of anger in his tone, his black eyes were as cold as ice.
Hawkins backed up a step or two before he realized what he was doing. He eyed Adam uncertainly, unsure how he had been suddenly put on the defensive by an unarmed man. “Well..., you two stop whispering to each other.” he said, fumbling with his gun for a moment. Eyeing the Cartwrights again, he turned and moved back to the blue velvet chair he had been sitting in, muttering to himself the whole way.
Adam kept a wary eye on the man as he seated himself on the edge of the table. He knew that he needed to come up with some sort of plan, Joe was depending on him. But for the life of him, he couldn’t see how he was going to get the drop on six men, armed to the teeth, while protecting a brother who had a broken arm and a leg so badly damaged that he wasn’t supposed to move it at all. Adam sighed and dropped his head into his hands. It was going to be a long night.
******************************
The loud crash reverberated through the house, startling Joe from the doze he had fallen into. He looked around in confusion, wondering why he was still on the settee in the middle of the night. Remembrance flooded his mind, as he caught sight of Hawkins sleeping in the blue chair. Joe looked around frantically for Adam, and relaxed slightly when he saw his brother sitting on the floor, his back propped against the settee, sleeping soundly. Adam had positioned himself so that anyone trying to approach Joe would have to step on him to get there. Joe smiled softly. Even in his sleep Adam remained on guard.
Another crash echoed through the house, reminding Joe that something had woken him up. He looked around trying to figure out what had made the loud noise. He could hear the shouts from the upstairs bedrooms and realized that Slater’s men must be tipping over furniture. Joe felt his rage rising. He placed his good arm firmly on the arm of the settee, and began the laborious process of hauling himself upright. He had just reached a sitting position and was preparing to swing his good leg to the floor when he felt a hand settle on his shoulder.
“Just where do you think you’re going.” Adam’s voice crackled with anger. “What are you trying to do, Joe? Make sure your leg never heals properly?”
Joe flinched as if he had been struck. “That’s unfair, Adam,” he shot back. “Those animals are tearing up our home. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
“And how far are you going to get with that cast on your leg?” Adam stabbed his finger in the direction of the plaster swathing Joe from ankle to mid thigh.
Joe looked down at the offending cast a scowl on his face. “I hate this thing,” he said violently. “What are we going to do, Adam?”
Adam took a quick glance around. Their captors were spread throughout the house leaving them under the guard of Hawkins, who was sleeping in the blue chair. This might be their only chance to escape. Adam pointed to the sleeping Hawkins and saw Joe raise his eyebrows in comprehension. “I’m going to find a gun,” Adam whispered. He stood quietly, and moved like a wraith through the room. His gunbelt and Joe’s still lay coiled on the sideboard, but they were empty. Adam cursed under his breath. He had known that it wasn’t going to be easy, but a man could hope for a stroke of luck. He slipped over to his father’s desk, and began pulling open the drawers, knowing that Ben always kept a derringer in one of them. His search was fruitless, even that gun had been removed.
Adam could feel the minutes slipping away from him, and he cursed again at his inability to stay awake. If he had then they might have been well away from the house by now. As it was he couldn’t be sure how long Hawkins was going to stay asleep, or when they were going to see someone else enter the great room. Adam considered his options. He knew that there was no way Joe could sit on a horse, and even a ride in a bumpy wagon was going to do more damage to his fragile leg. But they couldn’t stay in the house, knowing that Slater and his gang could kill them at any moment. Adam knew that he was going to have to try to get Joe into the wagon.
He crossed the room, and started to tell Joe his plan. Joe put a finger to his lips and nodded. He had seen Adam’s fruitless search, and he had already worked out what they were going to have to do. Joe held up his good arm, slipping it around Adam’s shoulder, indicating that he was ready to go.
Once again, Adam found himself marveling at his brother’s courage and resilience. They both knew what this flight was going to cost Joe, and yet his brother never hesitated. Adam vowed that if he got the chance he would make Slater pay for what he was doing to Little Joe.
He bent and grasped Little Joe’s slender body, and lifted him awkwardly. The plaster casts on both leg and arm were heavy and made carrying the boy much more difficult. Joe’s leg stuck out in a horizontal line, and his face went white with the sudden stab of pain that coursed through the injured limb. Joe bit his lip to keep from crying out and his arm tightened convulsively around Adam’s neck.
“I’m sorry, Joe.” Adam whispered, but he continued moving toward the door.
They had almost reached their goal when a shout rose behind them. A bullet whined past Adam’s arm, coming dangerously close before it buried itself into the wall in front of the Cartwrights. Adam stopped moving, and slowly turned around. Slater advanced towards them, his pistol still held in a meaty fist.
“Just where do you boys think you’re going?” he inquired, a dangerous look playing about his features. “I don’t remember giving you permission to leave.”
Adam didn’t bother to answer. He stood waiting to see what happened next. It wasn’t a long wait. Slater stalked closer, the gun aimed straight at Little Joe’s exposed back. “Go put the kid back on that sofa, Cartwright, and then back away from him.” Slater cocked the gun ominously. “Or I can just kill him now, and then you won’t have to worry about him anymore.”
Adam was consumed with a bitter rage, but he carefully schooled his features to present a blank mask to the man who held them hostage. He moved back towards the settee, and carefully deposited Joe back where they had started. Joe’s face was less controlled than Adam’s and he looked like a thundercloud. Adam noticed that Joe’s face had gone white, and he knew it wasn’t all due to anger. Joe’s broken leg had been jostled more than a little bit in their flight toward the door, and it had to be causing tremendous pain.
“I said step away from the boy, Cartwright.” Slater spoke again, menace dripping from every word.
Adam stood his ground. “What are you going to do, Slater?” he questioned. “I’m not moving till I find out.”
“Adam, for God’s sake, do what he says.” Joe snapped, his fear for Adam overriding all else. He knew that Adam would let himself be killed to honor his promise to his younger brother. Joe was terrified at the thought of losing his beloved older brother.
Slater chuckled. “The kid’s got some sense.” he said. “You’d be wise to listen to him, Cartwright. You won’t be much good to him dead.” He advanced forward, while Adam slowly backed away from the settee.
Slater picked up one of the chairs from the dining room, and dragged it towards the massive fireplace. He motioned for Adam to sit, while shouting for one of his men to bring a coil of rope. Hawkins who was looking shamefaced over falling asleep while on guard duty hastened to bring Slater the rope he was bellowing for. Bending down Slater tied Adam’s ankles to the legs of the chair and then roughly pulled his arms behind his back and tied them tightly behind the back of the chair. Pleased with his handiwork the renegade stood with a look of gloating satisfaction on his face. “That ought to take care of any future plans for escape.” he said viciously. He turned and strolled back towards the settee, gazing down at Little Joe who sat quietly under his gaze.
Slater reached out and roughly shook the leg swathed in plaster. Joe cried out as the movement sent a wave of agonizing pain from his ankle to his hip. He snaked his good hand out, and clutched at the outlaw’s arm. “Don’t!” he gasped.
Adam lunged against the ropes that bound him to the chair. “Get away from him, Slater.” he cried angrily. “He’s done nothing to you.”
Slater backhanded Joe across the face, causing Joe to fall back against the arm of the settee. He turned his back on the white-faced boy and strolled back to Adam, who was quivering with rage. “I figger a threat to the kid works better than a threat to you, Mr. Cartwright.” he said unemotionally. “If you get out of line again, he’ll pay. I’ll see to it that he never walks again. Do we understand each other, Mister Cartwright?” Slater’s emphasis on the last two words made them sound like an insult.
“Oh, we understand each other perfectly, Mister Slater.” Adam’s voice was seething. “I should warn you, however, that I will find a way to make you pay for what you’ve done to my brother.”
Slater laughed. “You’re a real funny guy, Cartwright. Real funny. I don’t think you’ve got much say about what I do.” He sobered abruptly and whirled to face Hawkins who cringed at the big man’s scrutiny. “See that you don’t fall asleep again, Hawkins, or I’ll kill you myself.” Slater turned and stomped out of the room leaving behind a silent trio of men.
*************************************
The minutes passed so slowly that Adam, who had a view of the grandfather clock, could almost swear that the hands never moved. He kept a constant eye on his younger brother, who lay on the settee unmoving since Slater’s attack. Joe had put his good arm over his face, and was holding himself stiffly. Adam could see the tension in the younger man’s body, and knew that Joe must be in extreme pain. Hawkins had made a point of staying awake and staring at the prisoners, determined not to slip up again. Adam didn’t want to call out to Joe under the scrutiny of their guard, but his worry for his brother was fraying his determination to stay silent.
Hawkins stood up and stretched, allowing his gaze to roam over the silent figures in the great room. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, and he decided that the two men weren’t going anywhere. Slater had disappeared upstairs, and had most likely commandeered a bed. Hawkins figured that Slater would never know if he went to the kitchen long enough to find something to eat. After a brief hesitation, hunger won and Hawkins headed for the kitchen.
As soon as their guard disappeared, Adam called out to his brother. When Joe didn’t respond, Adam felt a wave of fear threaten to overwhelm him. “Joe!” he called again, a thread of panic evident in his voice.
Joe slowly pulled the arm away from his face and gazed at Adam with unseeing eyes. His skin was pale and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Adam’s concern grew, he could see Joe was in bad shape.
“Joe, answer me.” Adam’s tone was urgent. “Are you okay?”
Slowly, the comprehension returned to Joe’s face, his eyes focused on Adam, and he wiped a shaky hand across his sweaty brow. “I’m okay, Adam,” he said quietly. Adam heard the false note in Joe’s voice, and knew that his brother was far from okay.
“Is your leg bad?” Adam’s voice was gentle.
“I said I’m fine, Adam!” Joe said belligerently. “Stop worrying about me.” He surveyed the room, realizing for the first time that he and Adam were alone. “We’ve got to do something about getting you out of here.” he said excitedly.
“What are you talking about?” Adam asked in confusion. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Joe’s eyes were serious, and he gazed at Adam intently. “I can’t go with you, Adam. We’ve proven that. You’ve got to get out of here and find us some help.”
Adam’s eyes hardened. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to walk out of here and leave you behind, Little Brother. Those animals would tear you apart, just for spite. Pa would never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”
Joe glared back at Adam. “You’ve got to Adam, we don’t have a choice. My leg is worse now than it’s been since I broke it. I can’t travel on it. If we stay here then we’ll both be killed. I don’t think Pa would be too happy about that either.”
Joe placed his arm on the edge of the settee and hoisted himself into a sitting position. He swung his good leg over the edge, and sat upright, stopping as he struggled against the dead weight of the plaster on his leg.
Adam’s eyes widened as he realized what Little Joe was trying to do. He struggled frantically to free his hands from the ropes that held him. His mouth dry with fear he croaked. “No, Joe, don’t do it! You’re going to hurt yourself if you fall.”
Joe ignored his brother, and used his good hand to lift his plaster covered leg. His face reflected the agony that the movement caused him, but he continued to maneuver the leg to the floor. Joe ended up sitting on the edge of the settee at an awkward angle, unable to bend his leg, and a little unsure how to proceed. He knew walking was going to be almost an impossibility without a crutch, and he awkwardly lowered himself to the floor.
Adam held his breath as he watched his brother struggle with the cast. He wanted desperately to scream at Joe for trying something so foolish, and yet he knew that if he did the outlaws would come running. He sat silently, praying fervently for his brother’s safety.
Sweat poured from Joe’s brow as he crawled with agonizing slowness across the floor. His leg screamed in protest, and he could feel the bones grating inside the cast, but he ignored the pain and kept going. The great clock ticked loudly in the stillness of the room as Joe inched his way across the floor. After what seemed an eternity he reached the chair where Adam was bound. Using his good hand to pull himself into a sitting position, Joe began to fumble with the ropes that held Adam’s hands behind his back. It was tough work one handed, Slater had tied Adam so tightly that the ropes were cutting into his skin. More precious minutes ticked by.
It seemed like hours later when the knots finally parted and Adam was able to wrench his hands free of the ropes. He rubbed his hands together briskly, encouraging the return of his circulation, and then reached to untie his ankles. Free at last he turned and looked with horror at his brother.
Joe was slumped against the back of the chair, breathing heavily. His skin was ghostly white, and sweat shone on his forehead, his curls matted and dripping. Adam slipped quickly to the floor and took Little Joe into his own strong arms. “Oh Joe,” he murmured. “You can be so frustrating!”
Joe looked up at him with a trace of a smile on his lips. “Now get out of here, Older Brother.” he whispered. “Go find some help, now!”
Adam hesitated. Joe had sacrificed so much to set his brother free, it would be criminal to waste the opportunity to get out of the house. And yet, Adam knew that he simply couldn’t leave his brother behind. They both knew that Joe would slow them down in any kind of escape, but Adam wasn’t willing to leave without him. He gently pulled Joe to a more upright position and looked at him fondly. “We’re leaving together, Little Brother, or we’re not leaving at all.” he said sternly. “Now, hold on tight, because I’m going to lift you up.”
Joe looked at Adam in resignation. He knew by the set of Adam’s jaw that he wasn’t going to change his mind. Once again hanging onto Adam’s shoulder, Joe managed to let Adam haul him up to a standing position. He gasped at the pain in his leg, but bit the exclamation off quickly. He had seen Adam flinch at the sound, and was afraid that his brother would refuse to leave the house if he thought Joe’s leg wasn’t up to the movement. They began the long trek to the door, Joe’s leg dragging with every step.
This time they made it to the door unchallenged. Adam helped Joe lean against the wall while he quietly slipped the latch and eased the door open. He peered into the darkness looking for sentries outside the house. Adam saw no signs of life, and he shook his head at Slater’s arrogant assumption that he didn’t need to post a guard. Adam looked at Joe who was leaning heavily against the doorframe, his breathing ragged. “Well, Little Brother,” he said quietly. “It’s now or never.” He grabbed Little Joe again, and using himself as a crutch, he helped Joe through the doorway. Once outside he turned and eased the door shut again.
The brothers savored the sense of freedom that the darkness brought. Adam began to walk forward, half-carrying Joe with each step. The barn had never seemed farther from the house. Inch by inch they walked across the rough ground in front of the house, every movement an agony to Little Joe. Adam kept glancing back over his shoulder, trying not to hurry Joe any faster than he was capable of moving, but he was afraid that at any moment Hawkins would discover their escape. After what seemed like hours the two men reached the barn door.
Adam quickly pulled Joe inside the barn and stooping, picked him up in his arms. He carried Joe to the farthest stall, and placed him on a bale of hay, propping Joe’s wounded leg up as best he could. He hastily grabbed a blanket, and threw it around Joe’s shoulders. Crouching down he looked levelly into Joe’s eyes. “We don’t have time to hitch up a team, Joe, and you can’t make it on a horse. What do you want to do now?”
Joe looked at Adam in surprise. It was a rare moment to have his older brother asking him for advice. He considered the situation carefully, and knew without hesitation what he should say. Matching Adam’s level gaze Joe said, “Saddle Sport, and get out of here, Adam. It’s our only chance.”
Joe watched Adam’s eyes and saw the battle being waged within those dark orbs. He knew that Adam would never willingly abandon him, and yet they both knew their only real chance lay in summoning outside help. There was a slim chance that the outlaws would assume that both men had ridden away, and would not find Joe hiding in the barn. It was a slim chance, but the only one they could consider. When Joe saw the look of sick rage become the dominant expression on Adam’s face he knew that he had won. “Get out of here, before it’s too late, Adam.” he ordered firmly.
Adam reached out and grabbed Joe in a fierce embrace. “You stay right here, Joe,” he said. “You won’t have a chance if they find you. You’ve got to hide here, and pray they think you’ve gone with me.”
Joe hung onto Adam’s arms momentarily, and then he pushed him away. “I’ll be all right, Adam. Just come back quickly, okay?” Joe’s eyes were huge in the dim light of the barn, and Adam swallowed convulsively.
With a final look back at his gallant little brother, Adam hastily flung a saddle on Sport and began to lead him out of the barn. As soon as he could he swung himself into the saddle, and putting his heels into the horse’s flanks he galloped out of the yard. Joe listened to the sound of the horse’s hooves disappearing into the darkness, and he felt an immense feeling of fear well up from somewhere deep inside him. Battling against the fear, he tucked the blanket closer around him, and concentrated on making himself as small as possible in the dark corner of the stall.
**********************************
Joe crouched in the dark for what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality less than an hour. He peered into the darkness wondering what was happening in the house. He thought about Adam riding into the darkness, and prayed that his brother would find help and return quickly. Joe flinched violently when he heard a frantic shout. The men in the house had discovered that they had lost their prisoners and were scrambling throughout the ranch house looking for signs of the missing men. Joe could hear Slater’s voice rumbling ominously even at that distance, and he felt his stomach knot with tension. Slater’s anger was obviously fierce. Joe almost smiled when he thought of the abuse Hawkins was suffering for allowing the prisoners to escape yet again. The glimmer of a smile was wiped off his face when he heard a gunshot from within the house. Slater wouldn’t have killed the man for his mistake, would he?
Joe broke into a sweat when he heard booted feet running into the yard, and surrounding the barn. The door creaked as it was thrown open and a lantern was hastily lit, throwing shafts of light into the dark recesses of the barn. Joe huddled deeper into his concealing blanket, and pressed back into the corner of the stall. He heard the men shuffling through the barn, curses slipping from several mouths. A pair of booted feet approached Joe’s stall, but the light from the lantern was at its weakest there. Joe closed his eyes and prayed that he wouldn’t be seen, holding his breath as the feet hesitated at the opening to the stall.
It seemed like hours before the feet turned and began moving away from Little Joe. He let out a pent up breath and leaned his head against the wall. His heart had been thumping so loudly that he was afraid the men would hear it. Another man stomped into the barn, and Joe jumped when he recognized Slater’s voice.
“Any sign of them!” he bellowed. When he received a chorus of negative answers, Slater let loose with a string of curses that would have made Joe grin under other circumstances. He had never heard some of those words before.
Joe’s heart leapt into his throat when he heard the sound of Slater’s boots pacing towards him, obviously stopping to thoroughly search the other stalls on his way through the barn. The discovery that Adam’s horse was missing led to another round of vile cursing, and a lot of speculation on whether two men, one of whom was burdened with two heavy casts, could both ride the same horse. And still those boots came ever closer.
Joe’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he was pressed as far as he could into the concealing shadows when Slater’s boots arrived in his stall. There was a long moment of hesitation, and Joe’s heart began to beat rapidly. He willed the man to give up, to walk back to the house, to go anywhere, just so long as he went away. Joe was beginning to feel his hopes rise when he heard a terrible shout of triumph pour from Slater’s throat. He opened his eyes in time to see Slater, looking like a demon from Hell advancing toward him, his eyes shining with an all consuming rage.
“I knew it!” Slater’s words were filled with a passionate sense of self-righteousness. “I knew that you couldn’t ride a horse, boy.” He stood in front of Joe’s quaking form, and a wicked smile played about his lips. “So your noble older brother got on a horse and rode away and left you behind, did he? I guess that shows you what he thinks of you, doesn’t it?” Slater kept up a constant stream of verbal abuse, not caring that he received no answer from Little Joe. As he spoke he reached over, almost casually, and hauled Joe to his feet with no regard for the broken bones in either his leg or his arm. As the bones shifted and grated in his leg, Joe remembered the involuntary scream of pain that left his lips, but then all went black and he remembered no more.
*****************************************
A white hot pain burned in Joe’s leg from his toes all the way to his hip. He moaned as it throbbed unmercifully. His head swam with the return of consciousness, and he found that he was once more lying on the settee in the great room of the Ponderosa, with no memory of how he had gotten there.
“So you’re awake.” Slater’s hated voice broke into Joe’s thoughts, making him struggle to sit upright. Lying on the settee in front of the outlaw made him feel much too vulnerable.
As Joe laboriously pulled himself up, he kept a wary eye on Slater, who had taken Adam’s seat on the edge of the big coffee table. Slater watched Joe struggle upwards, a satisfied smile playing about his lips as he saw the lines of pain etched deeply into Joe’s face. “Hurts like hell, don’t it?” he said happily.
Joe lifted hate filled eyes to Slater and regarded him silently. The man was clearly enjoying every moment of his prisoner’s torment, and it turned Joe’s stomach to think how sick the man was. Slater’s grin faded when he saw that Joe wasn’t going to respond to his verbal taunts. He hitched forward a little and casually placed his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “I can make you wish you were dead, kid.” he said in a low voice. “I want you to tell me where your brother is.”
Joe glared back at Slater and his mouth tightened stubbornly. “I don’t know where Adam is,” he asserted boldly. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Slater signaled to one of his men, who stepped up behind Joe and brutally yanked his one good arm behind him. With Joe effectively immobilized, Slater backhanded him viciously across the face. Joe’s head rocked backwards, blood streaming from a cut on his cheekbone. Stars shot through Joe’s vision, and blackness swirled in front of his eyes. Still he eyed Slater defiantly. “Go to hell!” he ground out through gritted teeth.
A snarl tore across Slater’s face, and he swung his hand again, watching with glee as Joe moaned involuntarily at the pain. He turned his attention to his watching gang. “Cartwright’s brother is bound to be back with help. We’ve got two choices, we can sit here and wait for him to get back and try to fight it out with him, or we can load up what we can carry and move on.” He surveyed the watching faces, and read indecision on most of the faces.
Slater nodded, “Yep, it’s a tough choice, but here’s what I think. There ain’t no point in makin’ a stand here. Cartwright can just sit back and wait us out. Eventually, he’d have us. So, Nick, Charlie, you load up the stuff from the house. Ed, you go hitch up a team and a wagon. Billy, you stay here and watch the kid.”
A menacing look crossed Slater’s face. He pointed to a mound lying in the corner, one that Joe hadn’t noticed before. “And Billy, make sure you watch him real good, unless you want to join Hawkins over there.”
Billy’s face contorted in fear, and he nodded his head quickly. “I’ll watch him, boss. I swear.”
Joe felt his stomach churn at this new evidence of Slater’s insanity. He had killed Hawkins in cold blood for allowing his prisoners to escape. The man had no shred of humanity in him at all. As the outlaws scattered to follow Slater’s orders, Joe watched them warily. Billy kept an eagle eye on him, a gun held at the ready, obviously not wanting to join Hawkins in death. The realization that even if Billy dropped his guard momentarily, Joe would be unable to take advantage of it was a bitter pill for the proud young man to swallow. Joe again cursed his broken limbs and resigned himself to waiting for his brother to come to his rescue. It never occurred to Joe to doubt Adam’s ability to save him from the danger he was in. Adam had promised that he would take care of Joe, and Joe knew that Adam always kept his promises.
It didn’t take the band of outlaws long to strip the house of all the things they could find that would translate into easy cash. They loaded a wagon, and hurried back into the house for further orders from Slater. He strolled into the great room casually drinking from yet another bottle of Ben’s vintage wine. Seeing that all was in readiness, he sauntered purposefully towards Little Joe.
Joe forced himself to sit still and wait, refusing to shrink back from the man. Slater stood staring down at the injured boy, a chilling smile on his face. “Well, Cartwright, it’s time for us to leave this fine ranch of yours.” He stood back to survey the effect of his announcement, disappointment evident when Joe failed to respond. A wave of anger washed over the man, and he snarled, “Are you ready to die, boy?”
Joe looked at him without flinching. “If I have to,” he said quietly.
Slater’s eyes burned with anger, and he lunged toward Joe, dragging him upward by his shirt front. Joe bit off a cry as the movement sent renewed spikes of agony through his body. Slater shook the younger man roughly and threw him back onto the settee. This time Joe couldn’t stop his cry of pain. Slater grunted with satisfaction and turned to his waiting men. “Nick, you and Charlie grab this kid and toss him in the back of the wagon. We need some insurance in case his brother comes up with a posse. Let’s move out.”
Joe found himself being roughly hauled up, and tossed over one of the men’s shoulder. He was carried like a bag of flour and thrown into the back of the waiting wagon with little regard for his injuries or comfort. The breath was knocked out of his lungs and he found himself on the verge of passing out again, but he fought against the darkness that pulled at him. With a lurch the wagon moved forward, and Joe tried to brace himself as he was jolted by every bump and rut in the trail. When the darkness reached for him again, he let himself go with it. There seemed to be little point in fighting it now.
***************************
Adam Cartwright rode his lathered horse to a standstill in the yard of the Ponderosa ranch house. He leapt from the saddle and turned to signal to the men who rode beside him. They quickly dismounted and fanned out and around the perimeter of the house and barn. Adam ran for the barn door and threw it open. “Joe.” he called loudly, as his running steps carried him to the back of the barn. “Joe, I’m back.”
Adam hastened to the farthest stall and peered into the gloom. His heart sank, and he felt a sudden surge of nausea as he realized that Joe was no longer there. Without a word he turned and ran for the house, several of the men from the posse he had gathered following at his heels. When he reached the door, Adam’s headlong flight stopped abruptly. He couldn’t just burst into the house, if the outlaws were still in there they could kill Joe before Adam could reach him. Adam forced himself to regain a certain measure of calmness. He knew he needed to focus, to come up with a plan, but all he could think of was that last sight of Joe’s luminous eyes as he watched his older brother leave him behind.
Adam killed the thought as it was born. Now was not the time. He issued a terse series of orders to the waiting men, and watched as they circled the house, covering all the exits. As soon as the men were in place, he eased open the door of the ranch and slipped inside. When he realized that there was no sign of life, Adam cursed violently. He waved vigorously and the waiting men poured into the house. “Search every room,” Adam ordered curtly. “See if they’ve left anything that will give us a clue where they’re heading.” His voice trailed off, and then he continued quietly. “If you find Joe, call me.”
Adam had turned and was heading for the door, intent on re-examining the barn for clues, when a shout from one of the men stopped him. He looked back in time to see the man crouching in front of a shapeless pile of rags. Adam’s heart lurched as he realized that what he was seeing was a body. He moved like a sleepwalker across the floor, and tentatively reached out a shaking hand to roll the body over. Hawkins’ sightless eyes stared up and he and Adam almost cried out in relief. He had thought it was Little Joe’s body on the floor. Adam would never forget those moments, nor would he forget the vast sense of relief when he decided that his little brother was probably still alive, somewhere. Adam vowed that he was going to track down Slater and his gang and personally kill every single one of them.
After asking several of the men to place the body in the shed at the back of the Ponderosa, until the sheriff could be called to take a look at it, Adam resumed his mission to examine the barn for signs of his little brother. A thorough search revealed the missing wagon and horses, but the only sign of Little Joe was a crumpled blanket lying on a bale of hay in the farthest stall. Adam held the blanket in his arms while tears fell unbidden onto the rough cloth. “I’m going to get you back, Little Joe. I swear I will.” he vowed to himself. Abruptly throwing the blanket aside, Adam strode briskly from the barn and ordered the men to prepare for a ride. They were going after Little Joe.
**************************
Torches flared in the predawn stillness as Adam rode at the head of the posse. They were moving slowly trying to detect the signs of the outlaw’s passage. Adam had gathered as many of the Ponderosa ranch hands as he could, while sending word to Roy Coffee in Virginia City for more help. He knew that he couldn’t sit home waiting for daylight and Roy’s men when Little Joe was in danger, so he ordered the torches lit and gave the order to ride. Now as they inched along the trail he had time to question his decision. He knew they weren’t making much progress but they were at least moving. Adam forced himself to believe that Joe was still alive. He simply couldn’t face his father if he lost Joe.
Another stab of guilt made Adam cringe. How could he have ridden off and left his helpless brother behind. There must have been some other way out of their dilemma. If Joe was dead it was Adam’s fault, and he was already being consumed by his betrayal of his brother.
“Hey, Adam, we need to rest up here a bit.” called Bill Hickman, one of the hands. “The horses are getting tired, and we could all use the break.” Hickman looked wary as he faced his employer. Adam Cartwright looked like something carved out of ice, he radiated a cold ferociousness that was very daunting to the other men.
Adam glared at Hickman, an angry response on his lips. He let the words go unspoken when he saw the truth in the man’s words. Reluctantly he held his hand up in the signal for the halt. “Five minutes, Bill,” was all he said. Dismounting he walked away from the rest of the men, welcoming the darkness as a cover for his churning feelings.
Hickman gazed after him momentarily, then he turned back to the rest of the men, shaking his head slowly. The boss was in a bad way for sure. “Five minutes, boys,” he repeated. Hickman again shook his head. He was glad that he wasn’t the man holding Adam Cartwright’s brother. He heard the men whispering to each other, and knew that they were speculating on what Adam would do when they caught up with the outlaws, especially if Little Joe wasn’t alive when they got there. It was a somber group who mounted in exactly five minutes to continue the trek up the trail, the faint swirl of color on the horizon indicating that dawn wasn’t far away.
********************************
Little Joe was consumed by a raging thirst and by a hot white pain that burned in his leg. It hadn’t felt this bad even when he had first fallen from the horse, and he knew that the damage was much more severe than it had been originally. Joe would have sold his soul for a drink of water at that moment, but he didn’t even have the strength to lift his head and ask for one. He lay in the back of the wagon, mercifully unmoving since Slater had called a halt an hour before.
He had felt every jolt in his damaged bones as the wagon rumbled forward. He had stiffened his muscles in an attempt to brace himself against the constant jostling of the wagon, but he was paying for it now as his muscles trembled with weariness. A shadow crossed his face, blocking the morning sun from his eyes. Little Joe squinted upwards, knowing who had come to speak to him.
“Well, kid, did you enjoy the ride?” Slater asked cheerfully. “Had a nice rest, did you?” He slapped Joe playfully on the shoulder, causing the boy to wince in pain. Slater’s smile widened.
“Get away from me,” Joe said in a whisper. He tried to sound stronger than he felt, but it was a pitiable effort.
Slater wasn’t fooled by the show of bravado, and he laughed heartily. “Oh, kid,” he gasped out when he could talk again. “You sure have made my night pretty interesting.” He strolled away still laughing, leaving Little Joe lying in the wagon, pale and sweating.
“Just hang on, Joe,” he thought to himself. “Adam’s coming.” He kept repeating the thought over and over to himself like a mantra, struggling to keep his spirits up and his hopes alive. He knew that the only end to this ordeal was going to be the arrival of Adam and a posse. Joe figured his job was to stay alive until they got there. After that it was all in Adam’s capable hands.
*********************
Adam Cartwright kept his eyes glued to the trail in front of him determined not to miss a sign, although the outlaws seemed to have an arrogant assumption that they didn’t need to cover their tracks. From the condition of the tracks, Adam figured that they were closing in on the outlaws, and he held up a hand to stop the troop of men behind him. He surveyed the group of ranch hands through steady, ice-cold eyes. Several of the men looking into his black eyes, looked down immediately, unable to face such deadly intensity.
“We’re pretty close, boys.” Adam asserted calmly. “You all know what we have to do. Our first priority if to locate Little Joe and keep him out of the line of fire. After we’ve got him safe, I don’t care what happens to those men. Shoot to kill if you have to.”
The hands shuffled a little in their saddles and eyed each other covertly. They had never seen Adam look so cold and commanding. If they reached the outlaws and discovered that Little Joe Cartwright was already dead, all hell was going to break loose. The men all liked Little Joe and admired Adam. There was an almost perceptible tightening of mouths and straightening in the saddles by the group. If anything had happened to Little Joe they would support Adam to the fullest. Slater and his gang would pay. At Adam’s signal the group moved forward again. The tension surrounding them traveled with them like a cloud.
Several miles down the trail, Adam pulled them up again. He had just caught a glimpse of the wagon as it moved forward on the trail. He could make out the figures of the horsemen, but couldn’t see much more than that. His pulse quickened and he turned to issue his orders. The hands scattered into the brush with the intent of surrounding the wagon in a flanking movement. Adam proceeded up the main trail with a couple of men at his back. The confrontation was at hand.
Slater’s first indication that he was in trouble came with the sound of a bullet whining past his head. He ducked in the saddle with a vicious curse. They were riding on a part of the trail with no natural defenses, no handy rock cover, no surrounding trees to duck behind. He hastily shouted for the men to stop the wagon and take cover behind it. The five men scrambled to get behind their only means of defense, guns already blazing in response to the as yet unseen threat.
Inside the wagon, Little Joe had been lying in a daze, his battle against the continuing pain in his leg and arm sapping his strength, and his will to stay alive. He vaguely heard the sounds of shots but he could only focus on the relief that the cessation of movement brought. He stared up at the sky, his thoughts scattered and incoherent. Something was happening, but he just couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
More bullets could be heard as the posse swept ever closer, and now they came from all sides as the men moved into position. Slater and his men fired in all directions trying to hold back their enemies, but as yet they couldn’t get a sight of their targets. And then, Adam Cartwright appeared on the trail, two men with guns at the ready riding at his back. He rose tall in his saddle, his eyes as bleak as an Arctic wasteland.
“Slater,” he called in a chilling voice. “Give it up now, and come out with your hands up. It’s your only chance to survive.”
Slater laughed harshly from his position behind the wagon. “Yeah, sure, Cartwright. I don’t believe a word of it. You’ll kill us the minute we step foot out there.” He aimed at the man in black and fired a shot.
Adam didn’t even flinch as the bullet buried itself in the dirt in front of his horse. He simply raised his hand in a signal, and moved forward his own gun blazing. Bullets again filled the air, as the Cartwright men advanced on all sides. Two of Slater’s men went down, clutching at wounds that poured blood. The other two, eyes wild with fear stood up, throwing down their guns and raising their hands high. “We give up!” they yelled. “Don’t shoot!” They moved quickly into the open, hands held high, and were quickly grabbed by many willing pairs of hands.
Slater knew that the end had come, he couldn’t hold off the entire posse by himself, and he looked out at the avenging angel of death that swooped toward him. In a panic he reached into the wagon and hauled Little Joe upwards by his shirt, ignoring the younger man’s sudden gasp of pain. “I’ve got your brother, Cartwright,” he shouted, struggling to hide his bulk behind Little Joe’s slight frame. He placed his gun to Joe’s head. “It you want him alive, you’ll back off and let me ride out of here.”
Adam halted his advance, his face implacable, hiding from the world the indescribable sense of relief he felt at the sight of little brother. Joe was in bad shape, but he was alive, and that was all Adam needed to know at the moment. He forced himself to look past his brother’s battered form to the man holding the gun to his brother’s head. “If you know what’s good for you, Slater, you’ll drop that gun,” Adam said quietly. “You’re surrounded, and we’re not letting you go.”
Slater knew that he was doomed, Adam’s voice made it clear that he wasn’t in a forgiving mood. Without thinking Slater cocked his gun, and prepared to pull the trigger. Adam sensed the movement before he heard the sound, and he instinctively raised his gun and fired, his bullet taking Slater in the head. Slater fell without a sound, his gun dropping from lifeless fingers. Little Joe fell as well, his body hitting the wagon floor with a thump.
Adam rode forward, springing from Sport’s back in a fluid movement. He was into the wagon before the dust had settled from Slater’s fall. Adam didn’t even spare a glance at the outlaw, his eyes could only see the body of his brother. Cradling Joe in his arms, he gently called his brother’s name.
Joe looked at Adam in confusion, his mind refusing to comprehend what was happening. “Adam?” he whispered questioningly. A sense of safety surged through him, and he gave up his struggle to stay awake, his eyes rolling back into his head, the darkness taking him swiftly away from his pain.
******************************
“Are they here yet?” Hoss asked Adam as he entered the ranch house. He looked around expectantly.
Adam grinned at his younger brother. “Do you see them?” he asked Hoss jokingly. Then he took pity on the other man, saying “They should be here any time now. Pa’s wire said he’d pick up the buggy at the livery once they got off the stage.”
“I cain’t wait to see that little rascal,” Hoss said happily. “It’s been too quiet around here without him.”
Adam agreed, it had been much too quiet during his little brother’s long absence from home. His mind ranged back in time, and he thought about the aftermath of his rescue of Joe from Slater’s clutches. Adam still felt angry when he remembered the condition of his younger brother, as he lay unconscious in the wagon. Adam recalled ordering the men to take care of the outlaws, both living and dead, and having Bill Hickman immediately turn the wagon around to begin the ride back toward Virginia City. This time however, Adam held Little Joe against the jolting of the wagon.
Adam knew that he would take the memories of that ride to his grave, along with the memory of the doctor’s face when he had examined Joe’s leg. Doc Martin had confided to Adam that the best he could do was to reset the leg, but it was going to take much more than that to repair the damage to the limb. Joe’s fears of being crippled for life were very much in danger of being a reality, and Adam’s heart quailed at the thought. He remembered his promise to fight with Little Joe to avoid that future, and he set his very determined mind to solving the problem.
Wires were dispatched around the country, one of them bringing Ben Cartwright and his son Hoss home at a gallop. When the responses to Adam’s inquiries began to come in they all pointed to one possibility. A doctor in St. Louis who specialized in bone injuries was the one hope that Little Joe had. Ben had promptly bundled his youngest son off to St. Louis, leaving the Ponderosa in Adam’s capable hands. Four long months of waiting were finally coming to an end. Little Joe was coming home, the doctor in St. Louis had done all he could, and was sending the boy home to finish his recuperation.
Ben’s letters home had been full of details about the doctor, and his work with Little Joe, but they had steered clear of how much use of the limb Joe was going to have. Adam and Hoss had been left to wait and worry about their little brother, as day followed long day. And now Little Joe was coming home. While Adam was thrilled at the thought of having the family together again, his worry over the state of Little Joe’s leg was eating at him. He had tried to hide his fears from Hoss, presenting only a positive outlook to the big man. Adam suspected that Hoss knew how he felt, just as he knew that Hoss was feeling the same way.
The sound of a buggy pulling up in front of the ranch house interrupted Adam’s reverie, and he looked up in time to see Hoss leaping towards the door, an eager smile on his lips. Adam moved more slowly and he reached the door in time to see Ben turning to help Little Joe from the buggy. Adam watched from the shadows of the doorway as Little Joe, leaning heavily on a cane, made his way towards the house. Hoss bounded over to him, looking like an overgrown puppy, and the two men had an enthusiastic reunion.
Joe looked around questioningly. “Where’s Adam?” he asked, a touch of fear in his voice. “Didn’t he want to be here when I got home?”
Hoss looked bewildered. “He was right behind me, Joe.” Hoss’ eyes lit up as he caught sight of Adam standing by the door. “There he is. Hey, older brother, don’t you want to say hello to this little whippersnapper?”
Adam advanced forward then, a smile on his lips. Only someone who knew him well would have caught the hesitation in his step or seen that the smile was forced. Both Ben and Joe knew him well, and so were fully aware that Adam was putting on a show. “Hello, Joe,” Adam said quietly. “How’s your leg?”
The blunt question caught them all by surprise. Hoss had tactfully avoided mentioning it, wanting to let Ben and Joe talk about Joe’s condition when they were ready. To have Adam bring the question up so frankly took them all aback.
Joe’s eyes were searching as he looked at his older brother. “It’s going to be fine, Adam,” he said quietly. “It’s going to take a long time, but the doctor thinks that eventually I’ll have full use of it again.”
“Boys, let’s all go into the house. Joe needs to sit down, and we can talk better in there.” Ben said heartily, shepherding his sons into the house.
Once inside he puttered around, insisting that Joe sit immediately, propping his leg up on a pillow, and calling for Hop Sing to bring something for them to drink. Hop Sing popped up immediately and greeted Little Joe effusively. He had some private words to say to the youngest son of the household, which left Joe smiling gently, then he bustled off to provide refreshments. Once he was gone the four Cartwrights looked at each other tentatively.
Joe broke the silence, a strained look playing about his eyes. “I don’t know how much Pa told you in his letters, but Dr. Lawson says that if I follow the exercises that he’s given me, and if I don’t re-injure my leg anytime soon, then I should be good as new by this time next year.”
Hoss whistled softly. “That’s a long time, Little Brother.” He looked anxiously at Joe. “What about riding, are you able to do that?” Hoss knew how much Joe loved his horse, and he could see problems ahead if Joe was unable to ride for a full year.
A cloud crossed Joe’s face, and he lowered his eyes slightly. “I can’t do much of anything for a while,” he replied wistfully, “But as time goes by, I can be up and about more. Riding is going to have to wait until Doc Martin gives me the okay. But at least I’m home, and I don’t have to have any more surgery.”
Ben smiled at this. “You only had two operations, Joe, that wasn’t so many, was it?” he said jokingly. His face grew more serious, the joking tone leaving his voice. “And you were a model patient the whole time. I was proud of you, son.”
Joe smiled faintly. “I want to be whole again. I would have done anything that doctor said, in order to walk again.”
Adam got up abruptly and headed for the door. He walked out into the yard, anger surging through him again. He had thought that he had gotten over the feelings that had ripped him apart before Joe left, but seeing his little brother again had reawakened them. His stomach twisted as he thought of all that Joe had been through, and all that he had yet to overcome. Adam wandered to the corral, and leaned against it. He stared unseeingly at the horses that were milling about inside of it. He wasn’t surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see his father’s concerned eyes looking at him.
“Adam, what’s wrong, son?” Ben’s question was gentle, but his eyes spoke volumes. “You’ve upset Joe by leaving like that. He thinks you’re angry with him.”
A stricken look crossed Adam’s face. “Oh no, Pa. I’m not upset with Little Joe. I’m angry with myself. It’s my fault that Joe’s in this mess. My fault that he’s been through hell.” Adam turned away from his father, unable to look at him any more. “I wouldn’t blame Joe for hating me, Pa.” he whispered.
Ben’s eyes understood. “We didn’t have a lot of time to talk about this before Joe and I left, Adam, but I’ll admit I’m not surprised to find you feeling like this. I could tell you were working yourself into a state before I left.” He gripped Adam’s shoulder hard, swinging the younger man to face him. “You owe it to Joe to talk to him about this, Adam. You can’t just walk away from him. Joe’s tearing himself up because of you, and it’s up to you to set him straight.”
Adam’s face betrayed his confusion. “Joe’s tearing himself up? About what, Pa? He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No, son, he didn’t,” Ben continued calmly. “And neither did you. But you both feel guilty for what happened here that night, and neither of you has been able to talk about it, until now. It’s been holding up Joe’s recovery, and I’m sure it’s been affecting you as well.” Ben pushed Adam toward the house gently. “Now, go see him, Adam. He needs you.”
Adam gave his father a searching look, and to his surprise he found no condemnation in his father’s steady gaze. Slowly, reluctantly, Adam returned to the house, looking back once to see his father standing watching him with an encouraging smile on his face. As Adam re-entered the house, Hoss stood up and made an excuse about having to do barn chores, before leaving the room. For the first time in four months, Adam found himself alone with Joe.
Joe looked at Adam with pain-filled eyes. “I’m sorry, Adam.” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I’ve made you angry.”
Adam’s heart twisted, and he moved to kneel beside Joe’s chair, resting his hand on Joe’s leg. “You haven’t made me angry, Little Brother.” he said softly. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I failed you Little Joe, and I hope that someday you can forgive me for that.”
Joe was bewildered and his face showed his confusion. “What are you talking about, Adam?” he asked. “You haven’t failed me.”
“I left you. I rode out of that barn and left you in the hands of Slater and his men, knowing what would happen to you if I did.” Adam’s voice was harsh and he buried his head in his hands. “I’ll never forgive myself for walking out on you, Little Joe.”
Adam felt a gentle hand on his head, and he looked up to find a pair of green eyes looking into his. Joe’s eyes were swimming in tears as he said wonderingly. “But I begged you to go, Adam. You had to go, if we were going to survive. Slater was going to kill us both, otherwise.” Joe shook Adam’s shoulder roughly. “If you had stayed, we’d be dead. Both of us. What other choice did we have?”
“I should have found some other way.” Adam’s voice was filled with self-recrimination and loathing. “I should have stayed with you. You were helpless, your leg and arm in casts, unable to defend yourself, and I walked out on you.”