Author's Note: Special thanks to BluewindFarm for the help with editing and revising! Any and all feedback is encouraged and treasured.


Imagine My Surprise

After spending four years in prison, I've come to know all sorts of men. I've seen every size, shape, and demeanor pass through the Nevada State Prison at one time or another. I ain't exaggerating when I say that when it comes to judging a man's character, I'm the best. That's what kept me alive in prison.

So when I met Hoss Cartwright, I figured I had him pegged from the minute we shook hands. To this day, he's still the only man I misjudged. If he weren't such a genuinely nice guy, I'd be mad at him for breaking my streak.

Now most people would describe Hoss as a big, burly-looking fellow, but they would stop there at that description. An amateur mistake. You see, I learned that big men are also fighters. In fact, in prison, I noticed that usually the bigger inmates would get to take a liking at giving someone a bad beat down. It was a pastime for them. What with Hoss being so big and all, I figured he would have felt the same way.

Ain't nobody in their right mind would pick a fight with a guy twice his size. Someone like me, on the other hand, fights only when he needs to. Sure I might be tall, but when you're half as heavy as everyone else, people presume that you can't hold your own in a fight, so they aren't shy about throwing a punch. Folks my size know you gotta learn how to fight mighty quick if you want to stay alive. Suffice to say, I'm alive and kicking.

But on our first trip to town together, I saw firsthand that Hoss Cartwright was different.

"Griff, hand me that sack, will ya?" Hoss beckoned to me. I firmly grasped the overstuffed stack and pulled it into my arms with all my strength. Exhaling sharply, I waddled over to the edge of the buckboard where the large man had been loading everything into the back. As I looked up at him and stretched my arms out to hand him the heavy sack, I squinted at how bright the midday sun was. "Thanks, buddy," Hoss smiled as he grabbed the sack in his left hand with ease and casually tossed it up over a pile of cloth.

"You're w-welcome," I responded as I tried to catch my breath without letting on that I was winded. "That was the last one."

Hoss pulled out his list and began to read it out loud to double check that he had everything his father had asked for. "Let's see here. We got canvas?"

"Check!" I reported.

The older man made a deliberate X near the word. "Grain?"

I repeated, "Check!" and we continued on that way for the rest of the items. When we were all loaded up and started on our way back to the Ponderosa, we heard the loudest, highest screech that any horse has ever made. I'll tell you, it was downright awful. There ain't no reason why an animal should ever make such a gut-wrenching cry like I heard that day.

"What in tarnation?" Hoss grumbled, reigning in our horses and pulling up on the buckboard break. He stood up and fiercely began searching the street for the sound's origin. When he found it, I saw his face contort into such a nasty scowl; if I hadn't known that it was Hoss, I would've never recognized him. "Of all the dirty, rotten scoundrels…" he mumbled to himself. I don't think he knew that he was even talking out loud.

I turned my head in the direction of the blue-eyed man's gaze and saw what was making him so mad. It made me mad, too, but I ain't never seen Hoss like that before and I hope I never do again.

This man in town, he couldn't have been much older than me, was leering at a beautiful chestnut mare that had been restrained and tied up so much she could barely move. He had this sickening grin on his face as he drew a thick, black whip over his shoulders and brought it down on the mare. Over and over and over again, he hit that innocent animal.

Between the deafening crack of the whip and the horse's constant, fearful whinnying, I was frozen in place for a moment. A whipping was a disciplinary device of choice by many of the Nevada State Prison guards. Seeing that gorgeous horse get beat on triggered me into thinking about when I got whipped. Despite being out of jail for six months and breathing the almost-fresh air of the Virginia City street, the scene catapulted me back in time and suddenly, four dingy walls were all I could see. I shut my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to keep myself firmly rooted in reality. I squeezed my lids so tight I gave myself one splitting headache that always came on when I thought about prison. Finally, I felt stable enough to open my eyes.

Imagine my surprise when I saw that Hoss Cartwright had gotten off of the wagon and was taking wide, deliberate steps towards that sorry excuse for a man. "Hoss!" I called, jumping down from the buckboard in one swift swoop. "Hoss?"

He didn't pay no attention to me. I hesitated for a split second because I hated to leave all of our supplies unattended. After all, I was sent to do a job and my name ain't Griff King if I don't give a job all I got.

The horse let out another strangled scream and my feet scrambled towards Hoss before I even had a chance to think about it. By the time I got there, my fuming friend had already positioned himself between the horse and the whip. The sandy-haired man who was doing the whipping, I learned later that he name was Earnest, didn't seem to give two licks that Hoss was in his whipping zone. He still kept on whipping, which only made that mare more scared and Hoss more upset.

"Hoss, get out of the way!" I yelled when I saw that damn piece of leather snap towards my friend. I knew what it was like to what a whip bite into your back. That wasn't a feeling I'd wish on anybody, especially Hoss.

Well, maybe I'd wish it on Earnest.

Anyway, Hoss didn't get out of the way. Instead, the tall rancher reached out his left arm over the horse's flanks as if he were going to catch the offending weapon. At that moment, Hoss's reflexes could have put a cat to shame. As the whip curled around his meaty forearm, he jerked his limb forward and yanked the whip clean out of Earnest's hand. The abusive coward stumbled forward and his face smacked into the ground. That grin was replaced with a look of terror.

"Easy, just take it easy, sweetie," Hoss crooned softly as he untangled the leather strap from his now-bleeding hand. "Ain't nobody gonna hurt ya no more, I promise ya."

"L-listen, Mister," Earnest stuttered. "I got no fight with you. This ain't any of your business," he insisted, dusting himself off.

I stood just behind my employer as I got to work loosening or altogether untying the many knots that kept the horse in place to receive the torture. I shook my head, thinking that this as that fool kept talking, he was only digger himself deeper and deeper into a hole he couldn't climb out of.

Imagine my surprise when Hoss Cartwright lunged forward and picked up that skinny little fella by his collar and hoisted him to eye level with just his right hand.

"No," Hoss quietly corrected. I could practically see steam coming out of his ears and rising above his ten-gallon hat. "You mean that mare ain't got no fight with you. So why is you fighting with her?" He callously released his grip and let Earnest fall back to the ground.

"I… I…" Earnest defended after he caught his breath. I strained my ears, trying to listen what that jerk had to say for himself. "She's my horse! I can treat her anyway I see fit!"

Such an attitude towards another living thing disgusted me. It had been a much too common opinion in prison, held by both guards and cons alike.

Imagine my surprise when Hoss Cartwright landed a mighty blow across Earnest's chin that left him spinning.

"Then how 'bout you fight with something that can hit back?" Hoss suggested. To me, it sounded a lot more like an order. "And without this!" added the large man, tossing the whip to me.

I caught the menacing object, half expecting it to burn my flesh. When the mare noticed it, she began to fidget and snort nervously. I hurried to hide the whip in my pocket so I could show the skittish horse that I had nothing in my hands. "No more, sweetie," I assured her, copying the pet-name I had heard Hoss use earlier. "See? I got nothing." I cautiously showed her my two empty palms. Once she calmed down, I turned my attention back to Earnest.

"C'mon!" the towering giant pressed, now looking really intimidating. "C'mon!" You want to hurt something, hurt me!" He put up his fists in front of his face. Earnest mirrored Hoss out of instinct, but I could see his whole body quaking something fierce. "Now's your chance!" Hoss violently jeered. "Ain't you tough enough? Ain't you strong enough?"

A crowd had begun to gather around us and I held onto the horse's neck to keep her steady. I figured some contact might be comforting to her. Ed, the town's premiere gambler and card shark, started calling out odds so people could bet on how long it would take for Hoss to knock out Earnest. "Five minutes! One punch! Ten seconds!" If a parolee could gamble legally, I would have put a month's wages on that bet.

Earnest swung out blindly. His fist was nowhere near Hoss's body.

"Seems to me that jackass couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag without that whip, huh, sweetie?" I softly observed, scratching behind the horse's ear. As Earnest kept flailing about and Hoss kept blocking him with ease, I wondered why Hoss hadn't pounded the bastard into the ground yet. In my experience, big guys like Hoss were usually enjoying a victory beer by now.

Hoss expertly shuffled to the side and placed his hands along Earnest's slender, straightened arm. He then jerked the arm at a sharp angle up against Earnest's back, eliciting a cry of pain from that idiot. After Earnest tried to weakly struggle out of Hoss's grip, Hoss released him so the fell back to the ground.

Stunned, Earnest did the only sensible thing he could think of at that moment- put his hands over his head and begged for mercy. "No, no please, please don't hurt me!" Earnest whimpered. I scoffed at his sorry sniveling and his mare pawed at the ground as if to establish dominance over her cruel owner. "Y-you got fifty pounds on me, pal, err, buddy, err," Earnest continued, attempting to appeal to Hoss. "Old friend?" he lamely beseeched. As Earnest looked up from the ground, his shoulders slumped when he saw the enormity of Hoss's stature.

"First of all," Hoss growled as he towered over Earnest. "I ain't no friend of yours, old or new," he clarified. "Now git yourself up and talk to me like a man!"

Earnest slowly complied and I watched carefully. In my experience, nothing like this had ever happened before. I didn't know what to expect.

Imagine my surprise when Hoss Cartwright lowered his fists.

"I got more than fifty pounds on you," Hoss remarked coldly. "And I could beat you so bad you'd fit into a whisky bottle. I could kill ya without sweating." He took one step forward and Earnest almost bolted. "But that don't mean I'm going to. Now, jist because you can throw that whip around and frighten that poor animal to death, don't mean you should. Got it?" Hoss squinted sharply at his quavering foe. "Got it?!"

"Y-es," Earnest hesitantly sputtered. I swear I saw a tear roll down his cheek.

"I don't ever want to see you raise a hand to any other critter, y'hear?" the Cartwright continued to drawl. To make his point crystal clear, he added, "Or else I'll tear both of your arms off."

I pet the mare absent-mindedly as I watched Hoss defy absolutely everything I was sure of. I always figured Hoss to be the type of man who would jump at the chance to prove himself in a fight. That's the only type of man I ever known. To see him stop fighting because he knew it was too easy… Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather, to say the least.

"No," Earnest assured Hoss with newfound fervor when he realized he'd live to see another day. "No, never!"

When the crowd realized there wasn't going to be a fight, a wave of grumbling and complaining passed through the group of people. As they dispersed, Sheriff Clem Foster came striding up to Hoss and Earnest. He put his thumbs under his gun belt and pursed his lips. He was a typical lawman if I ever saw one. "Hoss, Earnest," he coolly greeted. "Everything okay here?"

"Oh, everything's perfectly fine, Clem," I cheerily reported. It was no secret that Clem and I had our differences. He didn't trust me, being an ex-con, and I didn't trust him, being a lawman. Sometimes, I liked to press his buttons because there wasn't a legal thing the deputy sheriff could do about it. "Hoss and Earnest here were just having a stimulating discussion."

"A discussion," Clem echoed as he stared at me with a deadpan face.

"Uh-huh," I confirmed, dragging Clem's attention away from Hoss. "Y'see this fine chestnut mare here? Earnest just gave her to Hoss as a gift. Wasn't that nice of him?"

"Yup," Earnest hurriedly agreed, wanting to be rid of the entire situation. "That's right, Clem. She'll be mighty happy over at the Ponderosa. Mighty happy…" He continued to prattle on about nothing in particular. I stopped listening once he followed along with my story.

"Okay," Clem slowly noted. Since there was no trouble, he shrugged and returned to his office.

Earnest lamely turned his back and started walking over to the saloon, so I was left with Hoss and the mare.

All three of us stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Finally, Hoss gave me a light slap on the back and got to work untying the mare. "C'mon. Let's get this pretty gal back to the Ponderosa," he winked.

"Don't even know her name," I commented once we freed her and led her over to our wagon. I loosely draped a rope around her and secured it to the wagon so she could comfortably follow along.

"Then she needs one," the light-haired man stated as we climbed back onto the cart. "How 'bout Sweetie?"

I looked back at her and then at Hoss. He had a proud smile on his face as he nicked for the horses to walk on. "Yeah. Yeah, Sweetie fits her good."

Hoss Cartwright is the only man who showed me that sometimes, you get so much more than you see. A typical man would have beat the man into a pulp. With the way Earnest had acted, I won't deny he deserved a beating. But instead of doing what felt good, Hoss restrained himself and did what was best. Earnest was never seen hitting another animal. I bet he starts shaking in his boots if he even thinks about it. Everything certainly turned out best for Sweetie. She's one of the most dependable horses working on the ranch.

Imagine my surprise when I realized that even if I ain't got a perfect record of judging a man's character anymore, I'm glad to know the real Hoss Cartwright.


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