Half Brothers, Half Truths - Whole Hearts

by MissjudyK

Adam has returned from college and is adjusting to life with his family again, when he witnesses an 11-year-old Little Joe do something so out of character that he must figure out why, and then help him deal with it. As the youngsters dilemma becomes clear, Adam's vow to his father that he'll, "Protect Little Joe or die trying," becomes all too real.

Half-Brothers: Half Truths: Whole Hearts

One

Back from College – Fitting in Again

Adam glanced over at Little Joe and noted that the boy's surly mood had not improved during the first half of the trip home. The child was sitting as far away from him as possible, nearly hanging off the edge of the wagon seat, and hadn't said a word since they'd come out of Hansen's General Store thirty minutes earlier. From the tense set of Little Joe's face, Adam was pretty sure the kid wasn't in the mood for conversation either.

He returned his attention to the road and grinned as he wondered what would happen if he actually did say something to his brother. As angry as Little Joe appeared, Adam figured that fire might shoot from the boy's eyes and singe the tails on the horses pulling the buckboard.

The two of them did need to talk before they made it home, but Adam also knew that this was not the time. He encouraged the team with a light slap of the reins, and checked once more on his passenger.

Little Joe rolled his eyes and snarled, "Stop looking at me. You tied my horse to the wagon and made me ride with you, but I don't have to talk to you."

Some opportunities were just too much fun to pass up, and Adam knew he should leave it alone…but he couldn't. He stared straight ahead as he smiled devilishly. "Your logic is flawed, Joe. You said you don't have to talk to me, but you just did. That negates your argument against talking to me."

The youngster lashed out. "Dammit, Adam! Why do you always have to be such a smart-aleck?"

Adam's eyes widened with the curse. He knew there was something going on with the boy, but he also knew that Ben Cartwright didn't allow coarse language. Their father might voice a string of oaths when he hammered his thumb instead of a nail, but he never resorted to swearing or cursing when dealing with others. The head of the Cartwright clan used well-chosen words and strength of character—along with his large frame and steely stare—to get his points across. It was something Adam had always admired and chose to emulate. He turned toward Little Joe; the grin was gone. "You're lucky I'm the one with you right now. Pa would have you eating soap for supper tonight."

The anger in Joe's eyes bored through his brother. "That's right, Adam. You ain't my pa, and don't you forget that. You're always telling me what to do and how to act. I'm sick to death of you, and you've only been home a couple of months."

Adam dropped his head and sighed as he thought about what Joe had said. He'd been home from college since June, and there had been some rough patches as he'd fallen back into the family's rhythm. But the bristly episodes hadn't been with his brothers—at least not until today. In the first weeks, he and his father had knocked horns over everything from how to fix a fence to the best way to cut and sell timber. It had been a tale as old as time: the classic case of a young man home from school with new idea that he'd learned in books, while his father remained a proponent of his own hard-knocks-learn-by-doing method of education.

The war of wills had worked itself out as the two men stopped grumbling at each other and started talking. Adam had admitted that he'd returned home intent on proving that the cost of his education had been worth the expense. Once he stopped pushing so hard to change things, he realized how much change had actually been implemented in his absence. The gratifying part was that almost every improvement had been something he and his father had talked about before he'd left, or a project they'd considered in their letters to each other while he was away.

His father had begun to adjust to having another adult in the house too, and had given his eldest son far more responsibility in ranch affairs. He'd also started taking Adam along on business trips, and had recently admitted—with great pride—that his son had a keen mind for negotiations.

Some of Adam's pre-college responsibilities had returned too, including being in charge of the household when Ben was away. There was far less "watching" his brothers as there had been before. Now he felt more like the referee…or the asylum administrator when Joe was in one of his zany moods. At first Adam had worried that Hoss would be upset that he wasn't in charge any more, but his father had confided to him that the household usually fell into chaos when he left the middle son at the helm, because he couldn't say no to Little Joe.

To Adam's relief, Hoss had laughed when he had asked his brother how he felt about not being in command. "You can't take away what I never wanted in the first place. Just let me to them animals out there, and you keep a rein on Little Joe."

What had surprised him most in returning home was seeing how much his brothers had grown up while he'd been away.

Hoss had stretched from a good-sized, almost-teenager at the time, to a giant of a young man. At 17, he was 6'3" and still heading skyward. He'd finished as much school as was now offered in Virginia City, and he was committed to being a full-time rancher. His easy way and gentle spirit made him a favorite with the ranch hands, and an easy target for his younger brother's schemes.

Adam had been 17 when he'd left for school, and he couldn't help but compare what he'd been like then to what Hoss was like now. Hoss was as sure about what he wanted from life as Adam had been. The young man loved the Ponderosa and had no intention of leaving. He had a special interest in the livestock, and while professing disdain for furthering his formal education, he was always studying up on the newest methods of caring for his "critters" and the land.

Little Joe had changed in different ways. He'd been a smart, six-going-on-twenty-year-old when Adam had left, and had plotted his schemes with the wiliness of a child. But now Little Joe was a wiry 11-year-old with a flair for drama, and a passion for intrigue. He was smart, likeable, witty, and fun to be around most of the time. His conspiracies were more thought out now…more cunning, and he was able to convince others to join in.

Yet even though Joe's plans were better, his execution still had room for improvement. It seemed that the youngest Cartwright was always on the verge of catastrophe, with Hoss following him blindly into the fray. None of Joe's undertakings were mean-spirited though, and when they went awry, the consequences affected him more than anyone else. He accepted his punishment in those instances, and moved on to his next big scheme.

Adam knew that he'd grown up with an entirely different Ben Cartwright. His father had been so concentrated on building a legacy that there had been no patience for misbehavior from his first-born child. Once success had visited the Ponderosa, his father had begun to show more leniency toward Hoss and Little Joe than had ever been afforded him. He wasn't resentful about this. The concentration, drive, and work ethic he'd come by in those early years had made it possible to fulfill his dream of going back East for school. And it wasn't that his brothers weren't held to the high Cartwright standards. His father might be easier going in some things, but there was no tolerance for anyone bringing shame to the family name.

Something he'd noticed since his return was that even with the relaxed results for tomfoolery, Little Joe still pushed at his father's limits, and Adam could often see the man's jaw working as he considered how to handle his youngest son's lapses of good judgment. He suspected that what worried his father most was that Joe could be an easy target for those who might try to corrupt the boy's free spirit. And what was worrying Adam now, was that he was pretty sure he had witnessed something along those lines at Hansen's store. The confrontation over what'd he'd seen was the cause for the youngster's surliness and refusal to talk.

Adam was jarred back into the present when the wagon hit a hole in the road, causing it to shudder and sway. Looking over at Little Joe, he finally responded, "I don't have to be your father to know that what you did in Hansen's was wrong. As your brother, I had to do something about it."

Little Joe laughed. "You ain't really my brother. So you got no call telling me anything."

"You know something I don't?" Adam asked with mock disbelief, and then grinned, trying to lighten the tension. "Did Pa confess to finding me under a cabbage plant? Because if he didn't, then I'm pretty sure I'm still your brother."

"You're just half my brother. Jimmy and Pete Miller told me that don't count for much."

"You know what being half-brothers means, don't you?"

Joe shrugged and gave another exasperated eye-roll.

"It just means we have different mothers. You, Hoss and I all have the same father; we're all Cartwrights."

"Shut up, Adam. Since you're only my half-brother, I figure I only need to listen to half of what you say. And right now I don't care about either half of you enough to waste my time listening."

Adam blew his breath from clenched teeth. "I'll be quiet, but we're going to talk about what happened before we get home. Finish your sulking, because I'm stopping in the meadow that's a couple miles ahead and we're not leaving there until you tell me what's going on. Consider it a rehearsal for what you'll tell Pa when we get home."

Two

An Hour Earlier – What Started the Brotherly Impasse

"Hiya, Adam!" Seth Hansen called across the store as the eldest Cartwright son entered, and set the bell attached to the door frame jingling. "What can I do for you today?"

Adam had spent the entire morning doing an inventory of the Ponderosa feed and trail supplies, and then had headed to town, figuring he had enough time to pick up what they needed, and still make it home before sunset. The Cartwright family used Cass's General Store for their food staples, but Seth Hansen had opened up a general merchandise that carried more tools and equipment.

After returning the shopkeeper's greeting, Adam held up a sheet of paper. "I've got a list. I figure you have most of this in stock, but there's one thing you'll need to order. Hop Sing saw a spade in a catalogue and he wants to have it for next spring's gardening. I figure you can get it faster than we can order it."

Seth grinned. "What's so special about it?"

"I have no idea, but if Hop Sing wants one, I won't argue." Adam made his way to the counter and handed over the list as well as the catalogue page with the rendering and description of the implement. "I can't see any difference between this and the three we already have, but it's a small price to keep Hop Sing happy."

After scanning the list, Seth nodded. "You're right; I have most of this. Are you taking on a bigger crew this fall? It seems like you need a lot of camp supplies." He read from the sheet: "Two dozen plates and cups; cooking pots; wooden spoons, forks, knives, spoons, and blankets."

Adam chuckled. "We've got two new men riding in next week, but you know how it goes with trail gear. Some of it's starting to show its age. But a lot of it gets left behind or appropriated for other purposes."

One eyebrow arched on the shop owner's forehead. "What does it get 'appropriated' for?"

"I've seen the long-handled wooden spoons used as shoehorns when some drover gets new boots. The plates are used for shaving basins, and then get tucked into saddle bags to be handy for the next time they get the chance to spruce up. Cups get taken at night for a nip of chill-chasing spirits…and when those spirits get a little too 'chased,' cups go flying into the fire or the bushes with final tributes before hitting the bedrolls." Adam laughed as he admitted, "Since I've been the initiator of some of those toasts and cup tosses, I can't criticize anyone else. Knives, forks and spoons become poker chips or tools, and I don't want to know what some of it gets used for."

"You're probably right about that!" Seth pulled a catalogue from under the counter and began paging through. Turning it for Adam to see he pointed at a column and said, "You were right, I can order the spade from Earl Mitchell. He's the salesman for Ames Manufacturing, and he's due in next week. Earl does claim that an Ames shovel is better than all the rest. It'll take a couple months for it to come in, but you'll have it by spring." He looked up at his customer. "Could you keep an eye on things while I'm in the storehouse getting your supplies? Just holler out the back if anyone needs me." Seth turned in the doorway to add, "I almost forgot. A school teacher turned miner, came through town last week and traded a few books for some supplies. They're on the shelf, so have a look."

"Thanks, I'll do that."

Seth Hansen was several years older than Adam, but the two men had a common love: they were both bibliophiles. The shopkeeper had so many books that he'd built two open shelves in the back corner of the store to hold them all. It seemed incongruous to have a small library of decent fiction, history and science in a store specializing in hardware, camping gear, timbering tools, and mining supplies, but it suited Adam just fine. He slipped between the shelves and pulled out a heavy text called, A History of England. Leaning back against the wall, he began to thumb through the ornately decorated pages, and became so absorbed in an illustrated map that he jumped when the bell jingled, indicating a new arrival.

Adam peered through a gap between the books and the shelf, and was surprised to see Little Joe standing there. He was about to say something when he noted that his brother made a furtive visual sweep of the store, and then ran up to the counter, hoisting himself on top to look behind it and peer into the back room. Giving another look around, the boy moved quickly to the displays, grabbing a number of small things that he shoved in his pockets. From Adam's vantage point, he saw that one item was a jackknife, but he wasn't sure about the rest. The older brother's eyebrows narrowed over a puzzled frown as he considered what he'd just witnessed. When Little Joe headed for the door, Adam stepped from his shelter, and said, "Stop right there!"

Little Joe's face paled as he turned. "Where were you hiding?" he asked with as much bravado as he could muster.

"I wasn't hiding, I was reading while Seth went out to his storage shed."

The boy's color began to return. "Well, I didn't see you there. You musta had your nose in that book real good." Joe gave a tight chuckle as he reached for the door knob. "I didn't see the buckboard or your horse outside. How'd you get here?"

"The wagon is at the feed store. They're loading it, so I came here to finish up." One eye dipped as his cheek rose to meet it. "What's your hurry, Little Joe?"

Joe wiped his palms against his pants. "I gotta head for home, same as you. I just wanted to check again on the knife I've been saving for."

Adam kept moving toward the youngster while they talked, and finally took Joe's shoulder and gave him a shove toward the back of the store.

"What are you doin', Adam?" the boy spat angrily.

"Empty your pockets." When his request didn't get results, Adam added a loud, "Now!" Little Joe stood like a statue while casting furtive looks toward the windows. "Who's out there, Joe?" Adam asked as he began pulling the pilfered items from his brother's jacket and setting them on the counter.

When confronted with the pile of goods Adam had removed, the boy hung his head and said quietly. "It's not what you think."

"What I think is that you were going to walk out without paying for this merchandise. You came in here, checked to see if anyone was around, pocketed this stuff, and were headed for the door when I stopped you. There isn't a lot of room for interpretation in that, is there?"

Little Joe pointed to the display where the knife had been. "I left money to pay for everything I took. I just wanted it to look like I was taking it."

Adam shook his head and sighed deeply. "So you were just pretending to be a thief? May I ask why?"

There was no reply. Adam finished returning the items to their places just as Seth returned with a sack that hang down to his ankles and rattled like a snare drum with each step.

"I had everything on your list, Adam." Noticing Little Joe, Seth welcomed him and invited him to take a peppermint stick on the house.

"Little Joe doesn't want to spoil his supper…does he?" Adam cast a steely stare at his brother. He laid Joes coins next to the cash box and pointed to them. "My brother found these in the store, Seth." He watched as Joe's look changed from frightened to hateful as he gave the boy a nudge toward the door. "We best be getting home now. I didn't have time to go through the books, but the titles do look interesting."

Three

Truths in the Meadow

Adam pulled the wagon to a stop in the grassy lea as he'd promised he would, and turned to face Little Joe. "It's time."

The younger brother remained mute as he raised his foot to the seat and began buffing his boot with his shirt cuff.

"Let me get things started. You knew that what you were doing was wrong or you wouldn't have left money. So what possessed you to pretend to be a thief?"

Joe's eyes were slits as he finally looked at his brother. "It was just a dare. It wouldn't have hurt anyone and it would be over now, except that you had to interfere."

His laugh rang out on the breeze. "So it's my fault? Let me tell you about a proverb. It says that a man who brings shame to his family inherits the wind."1

The boy's eyes rolled as he shook his head. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that it's only because I was the one to see it that you get a second chance on this." Adam's jaw tightened as his brother snorted. "You think this was nothing more than a harmless prank, but suppose it had been someone else behind that bookcase today…someone who watched you, and didn't figure out that you were 'pretending' to steal. By the time you'd cleared the town limits, that person would have been at the Bucket of Blood telling everyone with ears that he saw 'Ben Cartwright's' boy stealing from Hansen's store. That would have started a whirlwind of speculation about this family. The next time any one of us 'Cartwright boys' walked into a store; we'd be watched very closely. And those who do any sort of business with Pa would start checking their figures to make sure he was more honest than his kids. Any discrepancy would solidify the idea that the whole family was a bunch of thieves."

Another snort from Little Joe made Adam reach for the boy's jacket and tug him closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose. "One stupid, thoughtless act by you…a bit of pretending…could have started a lot of suspicion and rumor. All Pa's work would be for nothing if that had happened. Do you get it now? You're a Cartwright, Little Joe. That's not always easy, but it doesn't have to be hard either."

"I didn't want to do it." He spoke quietly as his eyes pooled with tears.

Adam's tone softened as he let go of the jackets and sat back. "Then why did you?"

Little Joe sniffed, and then wiped his nose along the length of his coat sleeve. "There's these two brothers; they're new in school this year. I think they moved here from Arizona with their ma, and live with Mrs. Westfield. She's their aunt, I think. At first they were funny, and I liked hangin' around with them. But lately, they've gotten mean. They say awful things to the other kids; call them names and push them around. And then they said I had to steal something to show that I wasn't a baby like the rest of the kids in school. I said I wouldn't, but they were pretty clear that if I didn't do it, they'd steal something and make sure people thought I was the one who did it anyway."

"I noticed that you kept checking the window when you were in the store. Were they outside?"

"Yeah…so they must know that I didn't get what they wanted." The boy blanched.

Adam slid closer on the wooden seat again, but this time he rubbed Joe's back. "You should have told Pa about them."

"I would have, except that the part about stealing just happened today. They said they'd skin me alive if I told anyone or didn't go through with it. I had the money along that I've been saving up, thinking I'd check on the knife today to see if I had enough. So I figured I could leave that at Hansen's to pay for the stuff I took. That way I'd get it over with so they'd leave me alone."

"There's a big problem in your reasoning. Doing what they want doesn't mean they'll leave you alone. If you'd given them those things, they'd want something else tomorrow, or maybe they'd expect you to help with something worse. It sounds like these two have some experience in getting what they want from people." Adam thought for a second. "Chances are that you're not the first kid they've threatened or the first mischief they've planned. I think we need to talk to Sheriff Coffee about it."

Joe pushed at Adam as he screamed. "No, Adam! They'll kill me."

"They won't kill you." The older son smiled reassuringly. "I'll talk to Pa about this. We can send a note tomorrow for Miss Jones, asking that she keep you inside for recess and lunch." He ruffled his brother's hair. "I'm sure she's kept you in plenty of times before, so this won't seem unusual. Pa's got business in Carson City tomorrow, so if he agrees, I'll ride in to talk to Roy in the afternoon and find out if these boys are making other trouble in town. Then I'll pick you up from school and we'll tell Miss Jones what's going on."

Adam flipped the reins and started the team moving again. "Are these the boys you mentioned earlier: Jimmy and Pete Miller?"

A quick nod confirmed the names, and then Little Joe drifted back into silence for the remainder of the trip.

As they neared the house, Adam said, "You go on in and talk to Pa while I store the supplies and take care of the team. Tell him what you did at Seth's store, and about these Miller boys. He'll be upset, but he'll understand. Pa's had to deal with bullies too."

Four

When Half-brothers Tell Half Truths

Little Joe and Ben were on the settee when Adam entered the house. His father's arm was wrapped around the boy, making Adam assume that his brother's explanation had gone well. But he began to sense that something was amiss when his father turned and gave him a sour look.

After dismissing his younger son to get ready for supper, Ben motioned Adam to join him. As he made his way over, Ben began, "Your brother informs me that there was a misunderstanding at Hansen's today."

Adam's eyebrows rose as he frowned. He took a seat on the low table across from his father. "What did he tell you?"

"He said that he went to the store to pick up the pocket knife he's been saving for. He waited, but when Mr. Hansen didn't come out from the back, he finally took the knife and left the money. That's when you stepped out from where you were watching him, and accused him of stealing."

The young man's jaw dropped. "That's what he said?"

Ben nodded. "He's very upset that you accused him of theft, but he figures you couldn't see what he was doing well enough to understand the circumstances, and you jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"Well, isn't that generous of him!" Adam shook his head as his jaw set in a perturbed scowl. "His account has some truth in it, but he conveniently left out a few important things."

"Such as?"

"The fact that I pulled more than a knife from his pockets, and he admitted that he wanted it to look like he was stealing so the boys outside watching him would think he was actually doing just that."

The father's shoulder's sagged. "Is it possible that you misunderstood the situation?"

"No, Pa. We talked about what happened during the ride home. Little Joe is being bullied and threatened by a couple of kids at school. They're new to Virginia City and I suspect they've settled on tormenting Joe...probably because he seems more daring than the other kids." He saw his father's face shade to gray. "Look, Pa, Joe's a good kid. He's full of crazy ideas, but he's not a thief. I know that. He's got himself into something he's a little scared about, and he thinks he knows how to handle it."

Father and son's eyes met as Ben's voice grew deep and sad, "So what you're saying is that he's probably more afraid of these boys than he is of me right now. I can't imagine Little Joe lying to my face. He had to know that you'd tell me the truth."

Adam pulled at his ear as he sighed. "I don't know. Maybe he thought I'd cover for him out of half-brotherly loyalty." He saw the puzzled twitch of his father's eyes and lips, and explained. "I think these boys have put some doubt into Joe's head about how he fits in with Hoss and me too. They must have heard from someone that we're not 'full' brothers like they are."

"He's always known that you all had different mothers," Ben stated firmly. "That shouldn't have come as a surprise."

"That's true, Pa. But we don't normally think of each other that way. When the Millers made a big thing about it, Little Joe probably began to question it. Kids don't like to be different." He crossed his arms and leaned forward. "As to why he didn't tell you the whole truth…I think he wants to solve this on his own, and he's afraid that we'll make it worse if we intervene. I know you have to go away tomorrow, so here's what I was thinking we could do…" Adam went on to tell Ben of his plan to enlist help from Miss Jones and Roy.

"I'd like to have you wait until I'm back, son, but I have to get to the bank tomorrow, and I suppose this should be dealt with immediately. Maybe Roy can speak to the mother and the boys." He added after a moment, "Who are these troublemakers?"

"Joe said they're Pete and Jimmy Miller. I heard talk about Anna Westfield's sister moving into her place with a couple of sons. It must be them."

Ben scrubbed at his face. "I'll go have a talk with your brother now. I need to remind him that lies, even when camouflaged in a little truth, do not work in this house. I'll also tell him that you'll give him a hand tomorrow and maybe we can end this before it gets worse. He started to walk toward the stairs and turned back. "You don't think they'd really hurt Little Joe, do you? They're probably just acting tough because they're new in town."

Adam knew his father's heart was pinned to his sleeve where his sons were concerned—and more so with the youngest one. Joe was feisty and brave, but he was also impulsive and even reckless at times. He wasn't sure how big a problem Little Joe was up against, but he knew that he'd protect his brother no matter what it took, just as his father would. "He'll be fine, Pa." Adam chuckled as he winked. "I'll take care of him…or die trying."

Five

In the Light of Day

Ben had already left for Carson City by the time Adam and Little Joe came down for breakfast. Since Hoss had already gone to help the hands cull the herd for market cattle, the oldest and youngest brothers were the only two at the table.

Adam slid an envelope over to his brother, and said, "Give that to Miss Jones when you get to school, and then stay inside. Keep away from the Miller kids today and I'll be there before you go home."

The angry child from the previous day reemerged as Little Joe hissed, "Why can't you stay out of it, Adam. You're just gonna make things worse."

"I doubt that's true."

"You told on me to Pa last night and that made things a lot worse for me. I'll be doin' extra chores until I'm a hundred because of you! Sticking your nose into this will be just as bad."

"You probably won't believe this, but I told Pa what you did only because I was worried about you. You seemed pretty upset yesterday and I thought Pa had the right to know what was really going on."

Little Joe jumped up and waved his arms for emphasis. "I'll take care of it myself. They'll leave me alone if I stand up to them, and if I get a black eye, that's my business."

"Sit down and finish eating." Adam commanded as he drummed his fingers on the table. "If these were kids we knew, Pa might let you sort it out. But we don't know them. In fact, I heard someone at the Bucket telling about a mother and her sons moving to this area because they caused so much trouble in Arizona that they had to leave. I'm pretty sure this is the family you're dealing with."

"You're just saying that." Joe sat and exhaled loudly.

"I'm saying that because it's true. I told you yesterday that things don't stay secret in a town. It passes from person to person like hot embers in a dry field. If these are the boys I've been hearing about, they may be more trouble than you can deal with." He gave his brother a quick grin. "I may be completely wrong here and if that's true, I'll admit it, and you can have at 'em." When Little Joe rolled his eyes and set his mouth in an angry pout, Adam added, "You may consider me as just your half-brother, but I don't think of you that way. I care about all of you, Joe. I always have and I always will. I'm sorry if you feel that's a burden, but it's the way it is. I promised Pa that I'd help you with this, so it doesn't matter whether or not you agree."

The boy shoved the last of his bacon in his mouth and drained his milk. He snatched the envelope from the table and pushed his chair back so hard it fell over. "I'm leavin' now," he said as he righted the chair, and then pled, "Please don't show up at school, Adam." He grabbed his books from the credenza and looked back at his brother. "Or at least wait out back until everyone leaves."

Adam waited for his brother to turn away before he smiled at the small concession. He remembered what it was like to be young and indestructible. Joe's bravado made him stare the world down, hoping to convince it that he could handle everything on his own. But every now and then, Little Joe blinked.

Five

When All Else Fails, Blame Adam…

Little Joe tied his mare in the grassy area next to the school, and was only a few steps from making it inside when the Miller brothers rose up from behind the bushes growing next to the building, and blocked his path.

Pete was the older of the two, and he was almost a head taller than Little Joe. He squared his stance and stood with his hands on his hips, making himself look even bigger. "Where's the stuff we wanted?"

Little Joe stretched as much as his small frame allowed and tried to disguise the fact that his stomach was leaning toward to emptying itself onto his boots. "You saw what happened. My brother was in the store and caught me. There was no end to his lecturing me about it, and then he squealed on me to my pa, so then I got lectured to some more."

"We saw your brother at the store. He's the one my aunt says is so smart, right? She goes on and on about your family until I want to stuff a sock in her mouth." It was Jimmy this time. He was shorter than his brother, but still towered over the smaller boy.

Little Joe nodded. "He went to college and reads a lot. But he seems more a smart-aleck, than 'smart' to me. He's got a big brain…and a big mouth to go with it."

The two brothers laughed at Joe's comments and Pete said, "Remember, he's only your half-brother, so you ain't gotta listen to anything he tells you." He gave Jimmy a knowing smile. "Besides, you can go get our stuff tonight. Mr. Smarty-pants won't expect you to try it again after all the trouble you got into yesterday."

Joe's eyes began to sting with the first inklings of angry tears as he recalled what Adam had said about these boys never leaving him alone. He hoped his voice wouldn't let on that he was getting really scared. "I can't do it tonight. My brother's coming to town again, and he's getting me from school."

Pete pushed the smaller boy, making him fall on his backside. "What a baby. You should have told him to mind his own business." He nudged his brother. "I told you this kid was all mouth. He's too big a chicken to be any good to us. It's time we teach him a lesson."

While sitting in the dirt staring up at the two larger boys, Little Joe recalled more of Adam's warnings from breakfast. There was no way of knowing how far these Miller brothers would go to prove their point. He reckoned he could put up a scrapping fight against one of them for a few minutes, but there was no chance against them both.

The skirmish and raised voices had attracted other kids curious to see what was happening. But as Joe looked up at the faces of his friends, he saw their fear and knew that none of them would help him in a tussle against these two behemoths. The child's mind raced as he determined what he needed to do.

He stood and tried to appear unafraid as he casually brushed the dust from his pants. It took every ounce of courage he had, but he steeled his spine, and locked the two boys in a mocking stare. "Maybe if you want that knife and those other things so bad, you should save up and go buy them like the rest of us would." His words stunned the Miller boys for a minute and he walked around them intent on reaching the safety of the building. Pete's long arm stopped his progress. He grabbed Little Joe's shirt and pulled him back into a shoulder-hold, dragging him toward the shrubs he and his brother had hidden behind a few minutes earlier.

While Pete held Little Joe, Jimmy grabbed the boy's face and growled, "Nobody talks to us like that. You'll do what we tell you to do, or else."

The young Cartwright's legs were shaking so badly that he was having trouble remaining upright, but he managed to unleash the only weapon he had left: his smart-aleck, half-brother. "Adam says everyone in town is talking about how you two had to move here because you got kicked out of Arizona. He's gonna stop by the Sheriff this afternoon and find out if you've been up to no good here too, and tell him what you did to me. Then he's comin' to school to see Miss Jones. You'll probably get kicked out of Virginia City too by the time he's through with you."

Pete released his grip and stood next to Jimmy. Joe saw a wave of fear wash over both boys' faces for an instant, and he used their moment of indecision to get away and join the group of children.

The Millers moved a few steps away while talking quietly to each other, and then approached Little Joe while flashing big smiles.

"When is this brother of yours coming to town?" Pete was the spokesman.

Little Joe's forehead wrinkled along with his nose. "What's it to you?"

"We'd like to tell him we're sorry for makin' him think you was gonna steal somethin' for us." Jimmy continued his toothy smile.

"We was funnin' with you," Pete added, "and want him to know we won't bother you no more."

"Oh," Little Joe stammered. "He won't come in until this afternoon, but you can just talk to him after school if you want to." The youngster entered school with a swagger in his step, feeling he'd handled things just as he'd told his brother he would. He couldn't wait for Adam to show up later so he could tell him what had happened, and then bask in the glow of his success.

Although he didn't think he was still scared, Little Joe realized he was relieved when there was no response to Miss Jones' call for James or Peter Miller during attendance.

"I thought I saw the Miller boys outside before class. Did they have to leave?" Abigail's question was addressed to the group.

Nancy, one of the older girls in the one-room school, responded. "I saw them leave, Miss Jones. They were very rude and asked what I was looking at. Then they said I should give you the message that they had more important things to do than 'listen to you yammer away all day.'"

Miss Jones blushed to crimson, but thanked Nancy and hurried along with the remainder of the roll.

While the youngest Cartwright relaxed some, he still had a queasy feeling in his stomach that something wasn't right. There wasn't any time to worry about it as he was called to come forward and work an arithmetic problem on the board.

Six

The Clothesline Effect

It had been a good day for the eldest Cartwright son. Adam had accomplished everything he'd planned to do during the morning, and then had an early lunch before heading to town. He was anxious to speak to Roy and hoped to get back to Hansen's store to take a better look at Seth's new books before meeting Little Joe at school.

Sport was moving at a steady pace as they covered the distance to Virginia City and he used the time to plan what he would share with the Sheriff and Abigail Jones about Little Joe's encounter with the Millers. He didn't want to make trouble for the brothers, but he had a niggling fear that these two were trouble, and he didn't want Little Joe getting snagged in the undertow of problems they might create.

He looked ahead and could see the 'Twins' in the distance, indicating he was about 20 minutes from town. He'd given the name to the narrow pass because the outcroppings atop the rocky walls on both side of the road had an almost identical growth of trees and brush. Nearing the Twins meant that he'd need to slow Sport because the scree at the base of the walls could create a slipping hazard for a horse that was moving too fast.

This part of the road to town was still on the Ponderosa, and it was usually deserted, so when Adam saw something lying on the ground just beyond the pass, he sprang to attention. He brought Sport to a stop and stood in his stirrups, craning forward while trying to figure out what it was. It looked like a man curled up on his side, facing away from him. He supposed that someone might have been thrown from their horse or they may have been attacked and left there. Yet he felt that something wasn't right about the scene.

It was an odd place to stage a robbery because there'd be no way of knowing whether anyone would be traveling this stretch of road on a given day. Yet he reasoned that a thief might not consider that fact. He didn't want to ride headlong into an ambush, so he did a little long-distance inquiry. Pulling his rifle from its sheath, he took aim, and fired near enough to the still form to roust a man who might be playing possum. The noise and impact brought no response. Taking aim again, he fired a second, and then a third shot. This time there was action, but only from a horse that let out a loud scream as it came flying out from behind the rocks, and ran off down the road with its empty stirrups flapping.

That was enough to convince Adam that whoever was on the ground probably did need help. He put his heels to Sport's sides, bringing him to a gallop despite the loose gravel ahead. The fine horse was straining forward in full stride as they breached the entrance to the pass.

Adam blinked several times as he regained consciousness. He was flat on his back, looking up at the rock canopy created by the Twins' ledges. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but his thoughts were foggy, and he felt disoriented. When his stupor gave way to increasing alertness, he realized that every part of him was throbbing in pain. That wasn't the essential problem, though. What was causing him to panic was that he couldn't breathe normally. It felt like something was pressing against his neck. The more he struggled for a breath, the tighter it squeezed—suffocating him. He reached up and moved his hand along his neck. His touch produced pain, but he couldn't feel any object that would account for the sensation he was experiencing.

He closed his eyes, and tried to stem his rising fear by concentrating on how he'd ended up where he was. His efforts brought back an image from when he'd entered the pass. He'd glanced up when something had slid into his field of vision, but there had been no time to figure out what it was…or to react. Whatever it had been, it had dropped down from the outcroppings above him, impacting him at shoulder level, riding up his neck until caught his chin. He'd been yanked off Sport as the horse kept going forward, and he'd landed flat on his back in the loose gravel.

His memories did nothing to assist in his struggle to exchange air, but he was heartened when he heard the sound of footsteps coming his way. Opening his eyes again, he saw two faces peering down at him. Adam tried to speak—to ask for help—but he couldn't force enough air out to produce any volume.

The faces above him belonged to teenagers, not men, and the one Adam judged to be older, poked the other in the arm and laughed. "He don't look so smart now, does he Jimmy?"

The younger one answered with an ugly chuckle. "Nope he don't at that. It also don't look like he'll be finishing his trip into town to tell anyone about us neither." He looked down at Adam and spit next to his head. "I don't know as that you're gonna recover from this accident, Mr. Cartwright, but in case you do, we'd be right grateful if you not mention that we're the ones who contributed to it. Consider this your payment for interfering in our plans yesterday…and a warning to keep your mouth shut if you do live long enough to use it again."

Adam moved his hand toward his side. He had a pretty good idea who these two boys were, and hoped that even if he couldn't put up a physical fight, he might be able to make them leave if he could draw his gun. His fingers closed around air in the space where his Colt normally rested. He recalled removing the hammer strap on the holster before he'd ridden to help the downed man. The impact of the fall must have sent the pistol flying. It might be within a reach or halfway down the pass; it didn't matter. He didn't have the strength to look for it, and any movement of his head made breathing harder.

The two boys cackled as they realized what their prey was trying to do. The older one spoke. "Missin' somethin', Mr. Cartwright? Don't feel bad. With the shape you're in, we'd have gotten that gun from ya before you'd been able to use it." His comments produced more cackling, until they had to wipe their eyes on their sleeves. The same boy spoke again. "I s'pose we ought to get back to what we was talking about before you gave us that good laugh. You might be wondering what your incentive would be to keep things quiet-like. It's simple: say anything and we'll do somethin' worse to your kid brother."

Jimmy was giggling as he added, "Don't you mean his half-kid-brother? Hey, Pete, maybe we'll just beat up half'a him."

Pete slapped his knee as he giggled. "I'm pretty sure we made sure this guy can't talk no more so maybe we'll do the same to Little Joe. These two talk too much anyway." He punctuated his comment with a kick to Adam's ribs and another howl of laughter. "We'll be leavin' you now. A pleasure to meet you…Adam."

The boot tip striking his rib would have made Adam holler if he'd been able to. The encounter with Pete and Jimmy Miller left his heart pounding erratically, and he could now hear a high-pitched whistle each time he drew a shallow breath. He knew that if he didn't control his fear and rage, he wouldn't live long enough for anyone else to find him. A sense of relief did flood over him when he heard the boys' boots crunching on the gravel as they walked away. That emotion was followed by pure gratitude when he heard them ride off. The only hope he had now was in keeping a rein on his panic, and praying that someone would ride through soon enough to help. Exchanging a breath was still no easier, but he found that panting allowed a little air into his lungs, and maybe that would be enough.

As he lay there, Adam had to attack one last fear; the threat to Little Joe. The Miller brothers wouldn't have been out here waiting for him unless they had found out that he was coming to town, and he figured that Little Joe must have told them. He knew that his brother had nothing to do with this; he'd probably just told them about it while trying to get the pair to leave him alone.

What he couldn't understand was why they hadn't just taken a shot at him as he rode along instead of setting up this elaborate trap. Yet the answer was probably very simple: they didn't have a gun. So they had done the most damage with the resources they had at hand. Adam shuddered as he considered the mindset needed to plan something like this—especially in boys as young as these. At most, the oldest was fourteen; the other a year or so younger. They must have had some inkling that yanking a person off a speeding horse by the neck would cause severe injury or death. Apparently that hadn't mattered. Maybe they hadn't reached the point yet where they had enough guts to finish him off when they found out he was still alive, but he had no doubt that their killing instinct would come along just fine with a little more practice. Adam began to understand the confusion and anger his brother must have been feeling when he'd been so upset the day before. He'd discounted Little Joe's fear of them doing great harm, but now Adam had the feeling that the boy had sensed that the Miller boys were capable of it.

Adam's heartbeat was returning to a more normal beat as he forced himself to calm down. That changed abruptly when he heard the footfalls of a single horse approaching. He imagined that the Millers had talked it over, deciding it was foolish to leave a witness, and one of them had returned to complete the job they'd started. The fear dissolved again when he forced himself to open his eyes, and saw Sport standing over him. The big horse lowered his head and pushed at his master's shoulder. Adam reached up and stroked the soft muzzle; grateful for the company, and for the fact that the animal had not been harmed. Sport bent lower to nuzzle Adam's cheek, nickering softly as the exhausted young man drifted back into darkness.

Ben sensed something was off as soon as he rode up to his house. It was early evening, a quiet time on the Ponderosa, but it seemed too quiet. In fact, Ben would have described the place as deserted. He dismounted and led Buck to the barn, but stopped short as he saw the empty stalls where the boys' horses should have been. Before he had time to consider why his sons weren't home yet, he heard Hop Sing hollering while he ran across the yard. "Missa Cartwright, you go town right now! I help change horse. Then you go."

Ben's face settled into deep lines of worry and nearly shouted, "What's going on?" as he flipped a stirrup onto Buck's back and began unbuckling the cinch while Hop Sing brought a horse from the corral.

"Sheriff send man out. Say son hurt bad and you hurry to Doc Martin's house."

The father's eyes darkened as his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. "Which son? What happened?"

Hop Sing led Ben's big buckskin to its stall. "No say. Only say hurry." The small man put his hand to his forehead as he settled down enough to think. "It not Missa Hoss. He come home safe from cattle, and leave for town when I tell him same message."

Hop Sing ran to the house while Ben finished securing his saddle on the fresh horse. The cook came back out carrying a sandwich and canteen and handed them up after Ben swung up onto the animal. "You eat on way."

Ben shouted his thanks over his shoulder as he rode away. His hands were shaking so badly, and his throat was so dry that he tossed the sandwich away after a bite, and kicked his horse to a swifter pace, hoping to cover the distance to Virginia City in record time.

During the time Ben rode to town, he tried to imagine what was waiting for him there. The possibility that bothered him most was that Adam was right about the Miller boys being ruffians. Maybe they had hurt Little Joe because he hadn't done as they'd wanted.

He took a deep breath as he dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching post in front of Paul Martin's house. Anxiety churned his gut as he climbed the steps to the porch and stood in front of the door. He took a moment to settle himself, praying that whatever was going on inside would not send the world crashing down on his family again.

The relieved father almost shouted halleluiah when he entered Paul's sitting room and saw Little Joe curled up on the settee, sound asleep with his head on Hoss's lap. He looked heavenward and smiled, and then made his way to Hoss and quietly asked, "Your brother looks fine. Can we take him home now or does Paul need him here yet?"

Hoss had been drifting off even though his eyes were half-open, and he jerked awake when he heard his father's voice. "Oh! Hi, Pa. Gees, you scared me." He rubbed at his eyes. "What'd you say?"

Ben chuckled. "Hop Sing led me to believe that Little Joe had been seriously injured, but I'm glad to see that he's none the worse for wear."

"Little Joe is fine, Pa," the middle son replied as he yawned. "But, he ain't…"

Paul Martin interrupted Hoss as he exited his examination room. "I'm glad you made it, Ben."

"What's with trying to scare the wits out of me, Paul? The message Hop Sing got was that my son was in serious trouble. Either Little Joe wasn't hurt as badly as you thought or you're a miracle worker." He smiled and went to shake his friend's hand. As the two men gripped palms, Ben noticed the worried look in the doctor's eyes, and did his mental arithmetic to come up with the other possible answer. His smile dropped to a pained grimace as he sighed. "It's Adam, isn't it?"

"Come with me." Paul led the way into the other room.

Ben cringed when he saw how gray his son looked lying on the exam room cot. The young man's neck was arched back with his head pressing into the pillow while a whistling noise accompanied each shallow gasp. "What's wrong with him?" He asked as he knelt at Adam's side. "He was fine this morning and now he looks as though he's..."

Paul gave him a knowing nod, and lifted a compress of ice-filled towels from around Adam's neck, exposing a large swath of reddened flesh that ran from his collar bone up to his chin. This was bordered at the top by a wide, bluish bruise just beneath his jaw line.

Ben gaped at the damage and struggled to hold onto his emotions. His voice trembled as he asked, "It looks like he was hung!"

"That's an accurate description except that the trauma is only on the front of his neck, not the all the way to the back like a noose would cause. When we found him, he was breathing a little better than this, but I'm afraid the damaged tissue in his neck is swelling. I had Hoss and Little Joe get ice from hotel, and so far that seems to be keeping it from getting worse. He brought a chair over and made Ben sit while he replaced the ice on his patient. "You better stay there for a little bit. You're not looking too good yourself right now.

Ben dismissed Paul's concern for him with a grunt, asking, "How soon until he's better," and then watched as Paul pursed his lips and closed his eyes while saying nothing. The pitch in his voice rose as he tried again. "He will get better, right?"

Paul blew his breath out in a long sigh. "As bad as those rope burns look on his neck, I'd say they'll heal quickly. But I can't see what damage may have been done inside Adam's trachea." He noticed Ben's raised eyebrow. "His windpipe, Ben."

"Out with it, Paul!" Ben looked down at his son as he laid his hand gently on Adam's head. "You're talking around the problem like you do when you don't know how to tell me bad news."

Paul gave a nervous chuckle. "You can hear how hard it is for Adam to breathe. He did rouse a little when we first got him here, but he became so agitated that I sedated him with morphine. That slows respiration and knocks him out so it reduces his need for oxygen. I'm hoping that resting, along with applying ice, will be enough."

"What happens if it isn't…enough?"

Paul paced the room trying to put his fears into words. "Adam is barely breathing now. If it gets any worse, he won't exchange air at all."

"Are you saying that we'll watch him suffocate then?"

Paul nodded slowly, and then walked over to his medicine cabinet to begin inspecting vials and moving things around on the shelves. With his back towards Ben, he said, "We'll have to wait this out and see what happens."

"And?" Ben asked. "If you won't look at me, then I know there's still more bad news. What haven't you told me?"

The doctor came over and sat next to his friend. "The worst of the trauma seems pretty high up on Adam's neck. That's a direct line to the larynx, the cartilage that protects his vocal chords. You've probably heard it called a 'voice box.' If that's been fractured, or if his vocal chords are damaged…then even if he is able to breathe again, he may not speak or his voice could be greatly different than it used to be."

Ben remained silent as his thoughts crashed in his minds like hurricane seas. My son may not live, and if he does, he may not be able to speak! A shiver shook his body as he forced himself to move past what "might" happen. His own voice was an angry whisper as he growled, "Who did this to him?"

"We don't know. You probably knew that Adam was planning to pick Little Joe up at school today, but he wasn't there when class ended. Little Joe told Roy that he waited for a while, and finally headed home alone. He found Adam in that narrow pass near town, and he rode back here for help. Roy came for me and we went out to get him."

Ben shook his head. "Was Adam able to tell you anything?"

"There wasn't time to question him in those few minutes he was awake. I thought it more important to get him stabilized than to push him for details. Roy stayed out where it happened to investigate, and he has a pretty good idea what went on. He stopped by when he got back and said he found the end of a rope on the ground near where we found Adam. The other end of it was still attached to a tree on top of the of the west side of the pass."

"Did they try to hang him? Ben asked.

"Roy figures someone tied it on one end and tossed the free end across to the other side. Then they hid in the brush up there and waited for Adam to come along. As he rode into the pass, they dropped the rope down enough to snag Adam's head. He probably didn't even see it coming until it cut into him and snapped him off his horse. It's fortunate that they had to let that rope droop a few feet into the gap instead of being able to get it taut or they could have severed Adam's…" A groan from Ben stopped further explanation.

When Ben could finally push the image Paul was describing aside, he asked, "You said 'they' set it up. There was more than one?"

"Roy found two sets of footprints—one set a little larger than the other. There were two horses too."

Ben shook his head. "We always slow down for that pass. I did it tonight, even though I was rushing to get here." He cradled his forehead in his hands. "If he'd have slowed, wouldn't he have seen the rope and been able to stop?" He rose and began to walk around the room.

"Roy and I talked about that and we think we know what happened." Paul led Ben back to the chair and ordered him to stay put. "Whoever did this created a diversion. They put something in the road beyond the pass from the direction Adam was coming. He would have spotted it from some ways off."

"What was it?"

"From a distance, it looked like a man lying there. It was just brush and grass stuffed into pants and a shirt with a hat propped on the head end, but I'll admit that it fooled us until we got close. I imagine that when Adam saw someone he thought needed help, he hurried through that pass, and didn't even notice what was going on above him."

"Was it a robbery?"

Paul shrugged. "Adam still had a few dollars in his pants pocket. We don't know if he was carrying more, but he's got an expensive saddle, rifle and pistol that weren't taken. If it was a robbery, they went to a lot of trouble and then left the best behind." Paul pointed to a coiled rope hanging on the coat rack. "Roy brought that back. He wants you to have a look at it before he takes it in as evidence."

Ben's forehead wrinkled. "Why?"

"He's leaning toward this being retaliation against the Cartwrights. That rope's been whipped at the ends with a colored cord that makes it unique. Roy wants to know if you might have seen it before. Maybe one of your former drovers used a rope like that—someone who holds a grudge."

Neither man had noticed that the door had opened a crack while they'd been talking. Little Joe entered after Paul mentioned the rope, and walked over to the rack to examine it. "I think I'm the one who got Adam hurt," he confessed sadly as he moved toward his father.

"What are you talking about, Joseph?" Ben stood and took his son by the shoulders.

Little Joe sniffed. "I know who did it. I saw that rope at school today hanging on Pete Miller's saddle."

"Is that one of the boys who told you to take the knife yesterday?" Little Joe nodded. "Adam was worried that they'd hurt you. Do you think that they went after him instead?" His grip tightened as his youngest nodded again. "Do you know why they'd do that?"

Little Joe shrugged before his shoulders slumped forward. "They were pushing me around before school, saying that I was a chicken and a baby. I got scared and told 'em it was Adam's fault, not mine. He was the one who wouldn't let me take what they wanted me to, and then he got me in trouble with you, because he's such a smart-aleck." The child looked at his father as his face distorted with the fear and horror of realizing what his words might have led to. He stood up straighter and forced himself to tell the rest. "They didn't let up and they said I had to go back and steal stuff today or they'd do something awful to me. After they pushed me around, I told them that Adam was coming to town to tell the sheriff about them and they'd better watch out because my brother would make their lives miserable if they didn't stop pickin' on me."

Tears were running down the boy's cheeks as he finished his declaration of complicity. "They got all nice then, Pa, saying they'd tell Adam they were only kidding around with me. I thought maybe they were telling the truth about that, so when they asked when Adam was coming to town, I told them." He looked down at his feet. "They left school after that, and all day long I was thinkin' that I'd stood up to them and they ran home 'cuz they were scared of me. But they were just off were planning to do…this." He sniffed and then blurted out in a sob, "I'm sorry, Pa."

Ben pulled the boy to him. "I think you owe Adam an apology for saying some of those things, but I know that you had nothing to do with this. Your brother was worried for you. I guess he was right to be concerned."

Hoss entered the room and joined his family at Adam's bedside. "Is he gonna be all right, Pa? He sure does sound awful."

Considering all he'd just heard about Adam's condition and the possible outcomes, Ben wasn't sure what might happen. His oldest son could die, or he could live and be mute, but he decided to hold those fears in his own heart, and replied, "He's going to be fine."

Ben nearly toppled from his chair, when Adam grabbed at his arm. The weary father had dozed off while keeping vigil at his son's side. When his eyes focused, he saw the panic in Adam's face as the young man struggled to breathe. "Relax, son," he urged as he shifted onto the bed and grasped Adam's hands to keep him from pulling at the iced towels around his neck.

Adam's lips moved without sound as he mouthed, "I can't breathe!"

"I know, Adam. Calm yourself if you can, and it will get a little easier. There's a cold compress on your neck. That's helping, so don't try to take it off. Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Yes," was mouthed silently. But even that small effort took a toll as the wheezing increased. His eyes darted around the room before his lips moved again. "Paul's?"

"It was closer than our house."

Adam gave a slight nod. The tightness in his jaw and the lines in his face began to ease as he held tight to his father.

"That's good." Ben encouraged his son's efforts to regain control. "Paul says there's swelling in your throat that has to go down before you'll be able to breathe normally again. Until then, it's best to move as little as possible and stay calm."

A wry smile accompanied his whispered, "Easy for you to say."

Paul had fallen asleep on a chair in the corner of the room, but had awakened when he'd heard Ben talking. He could hear the increased labor in Adam's breathing, and knew it wouldn't take much for him to lapse into severe respiratory distress—the first step to not being able to breathe at all. Shaking off his sleepiness, he quickly filled a syringe with morphine and wet cotton batting with alcohol. While scrubbing Adam's shoulder before the injection, he said sternly, "I'm giving you this to make you sleep again. Don't either of you even think about arguing with me about it."

"Wait," the young man whispered as loudly as he could. "Millers."

"We know." Ben gripped Adam's hands tighter as the needle slid into his son's shoulder. "Little Joe recognized the rope they used."

"Joe…not hurt?"

"He's the one who found you and went for help. Hoss and Little Joe are sleeping in the next room."

"See them?" Adam's pled even as his eyes began to glaze over with the morphine's sedative effect.

Ben hurried out to wake Hoss and Little Joe, and got them to the bedside as Adam was nodding off.

"Thanks," he whispered to them as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Hoss smiled shyly. "Yer welcome, Adam, but all I done was get ice from the hotel. Little Joe found ya and got you safe."

Adam smiled back at Hoss, and then looked at Little Joe. He asked his little brother a question, but his voice was too soft to be heard. Little Joe squatted next to him and leaned in. "They hurt you?" he asked again between wheezy breaths.

The youngest Cartwright shook his head. "Pushed me down and roughed me up a little." He wrapped his brother in a hug as tears began to trickle down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Adam," he professed as he released his hold and sniffed loudly. "You gotta believe I didn't want nothin' to happen to you."

One eyebrow rose as Adam looked up at his father. Bringing his attention back to Little Joe, he reached out to wipe away the tears on the boy's face as he whispered, "I know." He heard his father saying that they'd explain everything later as he drifted to sleep.

Seven

Attempts at Justice

Roy Coffee arrived at Paul Martin's house just as Hop Sing was setting breakfast on the table. He took a chair at the table with the doctor and three of the four Cartwrights. "I didn't expect to see your cook here, Ben, but knowing Hop Sing, it makes sense."

Ben laid his fork down and passed Roy the coffee pot. "He said that when we didn't come home last night, he figured we'd appreciate a good meal this morning…especially Hoss, who never got supper before he headed to town."

The sheriff smiled at the young man. "That true, Hoss? You must care a lot about your brother to miss a meal for him."

Hoss laughed as he loaded more fried potatoes onto his plate. "Adam's worth missing a week of suppers for, but Seein' Hop Sing walk through that kitchen door this morning, trailing the scent of fresh-baked bread, made me plumb happy."

Roy chuckled as he accepted the plate that Hop Sing brought over with the encouragement to, "Eat," and slid two sunny-side-up eggs onto it. He buttered a slice of bread before addressing Ben. "I'm sorry I wasn't around when you stopped at the house last night, Ben. I had to ride out to the Thompson place in the evening. That one hand they have got drunk again, and holed up in the barn with a pistol taking potshots at anyone who got close. I got him back to the jail around two A.M. and managed to catch a few hours of shuteye there before heading over here. How's Adam doing?

Paul gave the update. "He's had some rough patches during the night, Roy, but I think the swelling has stopped. Now we have to wait for it to reverse."

"Can I talk to him yet?"

The doctor shook his head. "I've got him sleeping."

Ben picked up the narrative. "He woke for a little while last night and confirmed what Little Joe told us when he saw the rope you left."

"Wha was thad?" Roy's question came out muffled as he bit the corner off his slice of homemade bread.

Little Joe was the only one at the table who wasn't clearing his plate. He was huddled into himself, and his eyes were red-rimmed and framed in dark circles, giving him the waiflike appearance of a character from a Dickens' novel. He stopped pushing his food around with his fork and looked at Roy. "It was the Miller brothers. I saw them with that rope at school."

Roy licked the butter from his lips and shook his head. "I've been hearin' a lot about those boys lately. Miss Jones told me she's afraid of them, and several shop owners complained about missing expensive items after the two of them stopped in their stores. I had my own encounter with them when they went after Mack Halstead the other day. He'd won a big poker hand at the Bucket and had celebrated so much that he had trouble walking when he headed home. That's when these Millers showed up and started pushing him around. I was a block away when I saw it happening, and they ran off when I got a closer. After Mack sobered up a bit, he came to the jail and told me that his money from the poker game was gone. Said he'd felt those boys diggin' through his pockets as they shoved him back and forth between them." He took a sip of coffee and asked, "What kind of beef did they have with Adam?"

A nod from Ben to his youngest son prompted Little Joe to tell Roy the story.

"That's some tale, Little Joe." The sheriff let out a long breath. "You did the right thing in refusing to be a party to any more of their nonsense." He noted the boy's haunted look and continued, "You're not responsible for what they did to Adam, son. I'm sure your pa already told you that, but I can see it's layin' heavy on you. When kids that age are capable of doing what they did to your brother, they're already on a bad road, and nothing anyone says is likely to change that."

Paul had been listening quietly. "I can't understand what they'd prove by keeping Adam from getting to town? And then they left enough evidence behind to point to them, so they were bound to get caught."

Roy stroked his chin. "I'm not so sure this was about stopping Adam from arriving in town as it was to send him a message. I'd say they're criminals in the making."

Ben asked, "What do you mean?"

"This behavior has probably been developing with time and practice. But remember that while they're doing some mighty grown up things, they're still kids. When I think about that decoy and the location they picked…they did a pretty fair amount of plannin' and setup in a short amount of time. Yet they can't reason these things through all the way. They didn't think ahead to make it look like a robbery or even to take away the rope and cover their footprints. Their intention was to prove a point—to put Adam in his place, and once that was done, they just left." He looked at Ben. "I'm sure you've seen some of the same behavior in your boys." Roy blushed as he thought about what he'd said. "I don't mean the bad part of this, but they probably start projects just fine; put a lot of thought and planning into something, and then don't take the time to consider how it will end or to clean up when they're done."

"Hoss and Joe do it all the time, especially when they do something together."

"That's a good thought too." Roy pointed at the Cartwright boys. "It's always easier to plan mischief when the two of you do it, right?"

Hoss blushed and grinned, while Little Joe slipped further down in the chair, almost disappearing under the table.

Paul interjected, "I think what you're saying is that these Miller boys are learning from each thing they do…becoming more capable, and maybe more deadly. If they could leave Adam on the road without showing any concern for what they'd done, by the time they're adults, they'll probably be hardened criminals…or dead."

Roy didn't have to answer. Paul's conclusion was enough to send chills through all of those sitting around the table.

Ben finally broke the silence. "Are you going to arrest them?"

A firm nod accented Roy's conclusion. "They may be kids, but what they did was attempted murder from my point of view. They planned it, executed it, and left Adam without knowing whether someone would get there in time to help him. I don't know how to charge them just yet, but I'll bring them in and the circuit judge can help me decide what to do." He gave Paul a questioning glance. "Is Adam stable enough that I can take Ben along out to pick up the Miller boys?"

"He's holding his own; resting easier now, and I've got Hop Sing and the boys with me, so we'll be fine."

Roy addressed Ben. "The boys and their mother are staying with Anna Westfield. I know she's got nothin' to do with this but it's hard when it's your family in trouble. You know Anna pretty well, so having you with me might make it easier for her." Ben rose and went for his coat as Roy cautioned, "Just one thing, Ben. You can't take your anger out on those kids, no matter how much you'd like to. If you don't think you can control your temper, then I'll ask that you not come."

Anna Westfield was standing on her porch as Ben and Roy rode up. She placed her hand above her eyes to dampen the glare from the morning sun as she called, "I figured I'd be seeing you, Sheriff." She waited as they dismounted and headed towards the steps. "Welcome, Ben," she added as she motioned them toward the house. "You might as well come inside for a cup of coffee."

"You know why we're here?" Roy asked.

"To arrest my nephews I 'spect. But they're gone."

The two men followed her into the kitchen and sat at the table. Neither of them wanted coffee, but they allowed her the dignity of being hospitable.

"Where are the boys?" Roy began.

"I don't know. Believe me, I'd tell you if I did."

As Roy spoke, Ben noticed that Anna's hair was a mess, her dress was wrinkled and smudged with dirt, and she looked exhausted. This was so unlike the very proper woman who'd run this farm single-handedly since her husband had died that he sent Roy a cautioning look and took the woman's hand. "Maybe you should just tell us what happened, Anna."

She sat back in her chair, looking towards the ceiling while gathering her thoughts. "In early August, I got a wire from my sister saying she was on her way here because she needed a place to stay with her two boys." She leaned forward again to share the next details. "She married a no-account crook who was always in trouble of one sort or another. He lived with Frieda and the boys in Arizona when he wasn't in jail, but he'd always go back to lookin' for easy money. When I got her telegram, I figured he was in trouble again, and that she was penniless, so I didn't object.

"When they got here, I was happy to see two such good-sized boys, and hoped they could help on the farm." She looked at Ben while she wrapped her arms around her as if she was feeling a chill. "You know how hard it's been for me since Gus passed."

"Yes I do," Ben soothed. "You've done a very good job."

She nodded. "Frieda helped me around the house and with the cookin', but them boys of hers…well they was worthless. They barely helped at all; spent most of their time scheming and messin' things up. They played tricks on me, set little fires around the place just to scare me, and did mean things to the dog and cats. I never seen such behavior before. It made me sit my sister down and force her tell me what was goin' on with them.

"Turned out that them boys had been spending a lot of time with their father. In fact they'd been helping him in his unlawful activities." Her eyes widened before darkening. "What my sister told me that day makes the hair on my arms and neck stand up on end now."

Roy's interest was piqued. "What did they do?"

"Her husband, Nate, cheated at cards, robbed banks and stages, and ran confidence games, but that wasn't news to me. He was arrested again for somethin' more serious, and he did it when he had Jimmy and Pete with him." She rose and began walking around the table as she talked. "Nate had been playing cards with a man who accused him of cheating. That must have worried him because he knew he'd go straight back to prison if he got caught again. Nate left the saloon after this other player made noise about talking to the sheriff, and went home to get Pete and Jimmy. By the time the other man headed home that night, Nate and his sons had set a trap."

"A trap?" Roy asked.

"They strung a rope between two trees across the road that went to this man's place. Then they waited until the man came along in the dark, and yanked the rope up tight across the road just before he passed. His horse was moving fast enough that the man's head was nearly torn off."

Ben gasped while Roy smacked the table with his fist.

Annabelle began to cry. "It made me sick when I heard the story that day, but I felt sorry for the boys, thinking they'd been forced to help with such a thing. But then…yesterday, I heard Jimmy and Pete talking in the barn about how they'd tried the same sort of thing with your son, Ben. They didn't know I was there so I stayed quiet and listened. I knew your boy hadn't died because they laughed about how he was sucking for air like a fish outta water when they left him." She grabbed a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. "I don't know why they would do such a thing…knowing what harm it could cause. They must be animals!"

"They thought Adam was going to town to see Roy." Ben told her. "It seems like they took a lesson from their father in handling things they couldn't control. Paul Martin said the only reason Adam is alive is because the rope wasn't taut…like it must have been in the other case."

Anna asked softly, "Is your son going to be all right?"

Ben shook his head. "He was badly hurt and we won't be sure for a while."

"Why didn't you come get me once you knew what they'd done?" Roy asked as a tone of annoyance slipped into his voice.

"I was going to, but then I made the mistake of telling my sister what I heard, and who they'd hurt." She looked intently at Ben. "I'd talked to her about the Cartwright family before, but this time I explained how you'd helped us when Gus and I first got here; how you'd sold us some land at the edge of the Ponderosa for a reasonable price, and how you'd paid off the last of what we owed when he died so I could live here without worrying none. Then I told her she'd be better off turning her boys in instead of waiting for a posse, and she agreed to go with me to get the sheriff."

Anna blew her nose and wiped away more tears. When she raised her head, she looked fierce, and her voice strengthened with anger as she continued. "I went inside to get ready, and next thing I know'd those boys were standing behind me. They grabbed me and tied me to the bed. My sister carried on about how her boys weren't really bad, and wailed that it was their pa's fault that they didn't know better. She even apologized for leaving me tied up and all, but said she couldn't let her boys be arrested because she thought they were already wanted back in Apache Junction for helping their father."

She took a deep breath to calm herself and sat down at the table where the tears started again. "It was like she thought I should understand why she had to hurt me to protect them. After that she stole my cash-money from the jar in the cupboard, grabbed their things, took my wagon, and left."

"How'd you get free, Anna?" Roy asked as he walked over the bed and examined the rope hanging there.

"I worked on that knot all night long. It was dark, but I just kept picking at it and managed to loosen it around dawn." She gave a humorless laugh. "I was so tired that I decided to sit in the rocker for just a second…and woke up about 30 minutes ago. I put coffee and water on so I could have a bite to eat and get cleaned up before going to town. Luckily you came and saved me a trip."

"Are you all right?" Ben stood behind her chair and held her shoulders. "You've been through a lot too. Maybe you should come back and see Dr. Martin."

She reached up and patted his hand. "I'm fine, Ben. Thanks for the concern. I'm wondering now that I think on it, did those boys do something to more than one of you sons? It seemed like they were talking about an older one and a younger one."

"They bullied Little Joe at school and tried to make him steal things for them. Adam found out about it. That's why he wanted to speak with Roy."

"Ain't that just tragic." She shook her head slowly. "My sister told me she wanted to come here to give the boys a chance at a normal life. She wanted them in school, but…" Her voice faded away.

"She probably thought a change in location could do more than a change in parenting," Ben offered.

Anna patted Ben's hand. "That's exactly what Frieda is like. I imagine she'll continue making excuses for them and taking their side until she's standing at the side of their grave."

Roy joined Anna and Ben again. "Any idea where they headed?"

"None."

The sheriff prodded further. "Are there other relatives she might go to?"

"None close by, and none further away that she'd really even know well enough to go to." She sighed deeply. "What will you do now?"

"We'll follow their trail a bit and see if we can figure out where they headed. But you say they have some cash so they'll probably ditch the wagon and take a stage or the train. If we don't find them, I'll get a warrant issued in case they're spotted in some nearby town."

Anna walked the men to the door and gave Ben a quick hug. "I'm so sorry for what my kin done to your boys."

Ben returned the embrace as he asked, "Will you be safe here alone? You could stay with us for a while."

She struck a pose with her hands on her hips as she laughed. "I can use a shotgun just fine and I'll keep it nearby. My sister knows there's nothing more to get from me, so she won't be back." Her mood became serious again. "It all comes down to that verse in Job, don't it: Even as I have seen, they that plow iniquity, and sow wickedness, reap the same."2

Eight

From Toad to Timbre

"Pass me that pail, would ya, Hoss?" Adam indicated the bucket of grease that was just beyond his reach.

Hoss chuckled into his shoulder at hearing Adam's voice and grinned. "What'd you say?"

Adam wrestled the bulky wheel from the axle, propped it against the corner of the wagon, and then reached for the axle grease as he sent a scathing scowl towards the younger man. "You heard me just fine…" The remainder of his comment was lost in a growling mumble.

"I'm sorry, Adam," Hoss offered as his chuckling became a full-out laugh. "It's just your voice. I'd say you sound like a frog, but since frogs live in the water, I keep thinkin' of you as a toad."

"Nice," Adam groused. "I'll remember how kind you've been and return the favor next time something happens to you."

"See…" the big man laughed harder. "See how you sort of croaked out that last part. It probably ain't all that funny for you, but it's a hoot to those listening to ya."

Ben was watching his two sons through the windows above his desk, and shook his head at Hoss's seemingly heartless comments. But he knew the boy well enough to understand that there was no malice in his laughter. In fact, maybe teasing Adam was a whole lot better than trying to pretend that everything was normal.

He thought back to the incident that almost took his eldest son just three weeks ago. The swelling in Adam's neck had subsided within a few days allowing him to breathe without problems, but Paul's fears about damage to his vocal chords seemed to be valid. Adam's voice had returned in a hoarse whisper once he was able to exchange air better, but it had never strengthened to anything more than this odd croakiness. When he spoke, the raspy quality of his voice had the odd effect of making everyone else in the house clear their throat. At first this response had made them all laugh, but Ben had seen the exasperation in his son's eyes deepen as the next two weeks had brought no improvement. And in addition to the quality of his voice, there was the problem of maintaining even the raspiness for more than a few words before it would drift to hoarseness, and finally quiet completely.

As the problem persisted, Ben, Hoss and Little Joe began responding by pretending everything was fine. No one mentioned it, and conversations with the Adam were kept to a minimum of words.

Ben was pretty sure that Adam was feeling isolated. There were still family discussions around the table or fireplace where Adam listened quietly, adding his comments with a few words or nods. But more often, he'd leave the group and go to his room when his attempts to join in left him speechless. Ben was beginning to think that it would be better admit the problem and say, "It's all right, son. We all know your voice has changed, but you haven't, and that's all we care about." He also suspected that Hoss had come to the same conclusion, and had decided to do something about it.

Earlier that morning, Ben had noticed his oldest son pacing around the living area, looking like a caged puma. He would sit to read a few pages of a book, and then pop up to resume his laps, stopping at the windows to stare out. It was late October cool outside, and Ben wasn't sure Adam should be out in the chilly, damp air. But Paul had said that his patient could return to normal activities over time. After he'd watched his son's unfocused, tortuous activity after breakfast, Ben had decided it was time.

With Little Joe off to school, he'd told Adam and Hoss that the wheels of the buckboard had been grinding loudly when he'd taken it to town, and the entire thing seemed a little wobbly when hitting ruts. He "suggested" that the two of them grease the axles, and then check the hinges, pins and bolts. There had been no doubt in Ben's mind that they'd both seen through the plan to get Adam out of the house, but they'd agreed and had taken on the chore with gusto. After a quick inspection, they actually found several things that needed upkeep, and got to work.

Ben smiled with relief now as he saw the effects of fresh air on his eldest. Adam was grinning in spite of his grousing and seemed to have no problem with the physical activity. Returning to his desk, Ben picked up a copy of a warrant Roy had given him. It had been issued against Pete and Jimmy Miller for their role in battering Adam. He pulled a sheet from behind the first one—another warrant—this one issued for the Miller boys in Arizona in connection with abetting their father in the death of the man from the saloon. Roy had also brought the news that Nate Miller had been hung for that murder, and there'd been no sight of Frieda or her boys in Arizona.

Ben closed his eyes and held his breath for a moment as he considered how close his son had come to being a murder victim as well.

Roy had sent Ben back to be with Adam after they'd spoken to Anna Westfield on the day after the attack, and the sheriff had gathered a small posse to follow the wagon tracks. A fall thunderstorm had ended their efforts the second day, when it washed away all evidence of the trail. Roy's next step had been to telegraph inquiries to surrounding towns. He'd gotten one response saying Anna Westfield's wagon had been brought to a livery in Placerville. But it had been found abandoned on the road, and no one in the town remembered seeing a woman with two sons.

Roy's best guess was that Frieda Miller had left the wagon behind and talked someone into taking them along. His conclusion had been that she could be anywhere—maybe even Mexico.

The Cartwrights weren't angry about not getting "justice." Ben was satisfied for now that Adam had recovered. Paul held hope that Adam's voice could still improve, but if it didn't, the father knew that his son would deal with it, just as he had dealt with all the unexpected events in his life.

Ben sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers as his thoughts turned to his youngest son. Little Joe had remained unusually quiet since the incident too. He avoided his older brother, finding an excuse to leave whenever Adam tried to talk with him. Ben wasn't worried just yet. He knew Little Joe carried a weight of responsibility that he hadn't quite worked out in his 11-year-old mind.

Adam didn't hold his brother responsible in any way; Ben was sure of that. In fact, Adam had said more than once that he was thankful the Miller boys took their bile out on him rather than on Little Joe. Ben also figured that his youngest boy was still too young to comprehend that one family member would so willingly give his life to ensure that another would remain safe—especially if that person was your "half-brother."

It was true that there was much for Little Joe to learn from what had happened, but Ben was encouraged that things were heading down a healing path for the youngster. This his knew because of an incident he'd observed the night before. Ben had heard voices when he'd walked past Adam's open bedroom door the night before. As a rule, the head of the Ponderosa household abhorred eavesdropping, but his fatherly interest had been alerted as he'd glanced inside the room, and he'd seen his eldest and youngest sons together. Little Joe had barely spoken to Adam since he'd come home from Paul's, and he certainly hadn't sought a private audience with his brother. This fact had made Ben stop and busy himself with checking the contents of a drawer in the hallway table outside his eldest son's room.

He grinned, thinking now that it had come as a real bonus the way his efforts at organization had played well into his curiosity at what had been about to transpire. In fact, he'd even managed a clandestine peak or two into the room as the boys had talked.

He sat back to replay the scene in his mind as a contented smile settled on his lips:

"What's up squirt?" Adam asked in his croaky voice, acknowledging Little Joe's arrival.

Joe's soft, child's voice was almost inaudible. "I'm sorry."

Adam laid his book aside on his desk, and turned toward his little brother with a smile. "You've apologized enough about this. The best way to show me how you feel is to just go on being the great kid you are...minus those little lapses of judgment in your choice of friends."

"It's not about that, Adam," Little Joe said impatiently, "it's about that other thing I said…about you being only half my brother and that I didn't care none about you."

"I knew you were upset." He took hold of Joe's thin shoulders. "You don't need to worry about saying it. I'm sure that each of us brothers wonders about how we fit into our family from time-to-time."

"It's just that…"

There was a lull in the conversation until Adam asked, "Just?"

"That day I found you on the road and you were barely breathing; I figured something out."

"What was that?"

"I wouldn't have lost just half of you. I'd have lost all of you if you'd died. What scared me most was that I thought maybe you'd…um… go…away, thinking that you didn't matter to me…that I didn't care if you weren't around anymore. So, I just want you to know that…I…"

Adam spoke softly, his voice shrouded in a thick hoarseness. "I know, Little Joe. I feel the same way about you."

It had remained quiet then, and Ben remembered that he had stepped silently toward the open door to see what was going on. Adam had remained seated, but had pulled Little Joe to him and was resting his forehead against the boy's shoulder while the child's arms were wrapped tightly around his brother's back.

As a father, Ben had wanted to enter the room and tell them how proud he was, but he'd decided it was best to let the moment remain between the two of them.

He shook off the memory and listened. All he could hear were thumps, hammering and the creaking of wood as the two brothers serviced the wagon. He moved back to the window and saw that Adam was working on the last wheel, while Hoss was underneath tightening bolts and oiling the hinges on the tongue. Ben continued watching, his jaw dropping when the scene outside suddenly went from sedately industrious to all-out crazy…

As Adam slid the wheel back onto the axle, he pinched his fingers, and hollered a string of oaths while blowing on the injured digits.

Laughter drifted up from under the wagon.

Still cradling his injured hand, the older brother bent over to address the younger. "You find that amusing?"

Hoss puckered his lips and let out a loud froglike croak. "You sound even funnier when you're hollerin'. I think I'll call you, Toad, 'stead of Adam. That has a catchy ring to it, don't you think?"

Adam shook his head and sent Hoss a narrow-eyed glare while reaching down to grab the grease-laden paddle from the bucket. Once his brother slipped out from below and stood, Adam said calmly, "Hey, Hoss, you've got something on your face."

The big man reached up and felt around. "Where d'ya mean?"

The glob of axle goo was sent flying with a smart flick of Adam's wrist, landing exactly where he'd intended—square on Hoss's cheek. "Right there," he pointed as he chuckled deep and slow.

Hoss scraped off the blob with his fingers as his face reddened. "What call you got to do that?" he asked as he began moving toward Adam with solid, deliberate steps.

Instead of running, Adam flicked the paddle again, this time sending the goo onto his brother's forehead. When his greasy offense didn't stop the oncoming giant, Adam began moving backwards, trying to clear the end of the wagon before escaping to the house. His plan would have worked except that he'd forgotten the tools he'd left sitting on the ground. He tripped, falling on flat on his back, and looked up to see Hoss's angry face looming above him.

The larger man easily pinned his brother by sitting on Adam's legs and leaning on his shoulders with one arm, while smearing the axle grease he removed from his own face onto his prey with his free hand. His blue eyes began to twinkle as he finished by wiping the remainder of the sticky goo onto Adam's shirt. "You know I been sayin' that you sound like a toad, but I think maybe that croakin' you do is more like a frog after all, and I should return you to where you'd feel most at home."

Adam's eyes rounded as he tried to push free of Hoss's grip. Instead of admitting defeat, he waved a verbal red cape in his brother's face. "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" Hoss asked with a smirk. "Seems like you're sorta covered in grease and in need a bath anyway, and the water in that horse trough should be a little sun-warmed by this time. All I'll need to add is a lily pad and you'll feel right to home." Adding further insult, he said, "Maybe you can even croak out a little tune while you're in there." He stood while continuing to pin Adam's torso, and had no problem hoisting his older brother up over his shoulder to make his way across the yard.

As Hoss neared the trough, Adam began pounding on his back, saying breathlessly, "Wait…Hoss…I…can't breathe!"

Hoss paled as he set his brother down. "I'm sorry, Adam. I didn't mean to hurt ya none." His grimace turned to a look of panic as he saw his brother lean forward with his hands on his knees gasping, trying to catch his breath. "I was foolin' around just like I thought you was." He patted Adam's back, as he asked, "You gonna be all right?"

The sneaky grin on the older brother's face was unobserved as he leaned even farther forward and coughed dramatically. But as Adam stood, he angled himself for maximum pushing strength, using his shoulder to give Hoss a mighty shove that set him off balance. The big man couldn't right himself in time, and he toppled backward like a mighty pine barreling down a sluice…into the trough. The displacement of water caused by Hoss's bulky frame dropping into the tub soaked Adam to the skin, but he claimed victory anyway, leaning over his brother to say. "Now who needs a lily pad?"

For a big guy, Hoss was fast. He had the front of Adam's shirt in a grip and tugged him into the water to join him before there was time to react.

The two men made an attempt to fight it out in the narrow confines of the wooden vessel, but they finally ended up sitting at opposite ends in the waist high water—each voicing their outrage at the "other" brother's treachery.

But then Adam started to laugh. Instead of his voice weakening as it had been doing any time he spoke, it now strengthened as he continued to roar. He laughed so hard he had trouble standing or breathing, and dropped repeatedly back onto his knees in the water as he tried to climb out. Hoss was laughing too as he gave his brother an assist up with a little too much oomph, and sent Adam toppling over the side and down into the mud that had begun to form at the base of the trough.

Ben had watched the scene unfold with concern for Adam's welfare. His heart had skipped a beat when he believed as Hoss did, that Adam was truly in distress. But then he'd witnessed the devilment in the older boy's eyes, and had relaxed to enjoy the humor in the antics of his own flesh and blood. As he'd seen them out there, covered in mud and axle grease, laughing so hard they could barely stand up straight, he'd realized that what had happened between Hoss and Adam had been just as important in restoring normalcy as Little Joe's confession had been the night before. They'd all been walking on eggshells since the accident, but that could end now. Adam had proven to himself and Hoss that he was up to the roughhousing side of brotherly love, just as he'd accepted the unspoken and tender avowal of the same emotion from his youngest brother.

Ben pretended to be engrossed in work when his soggy, muck-covered sons entered the house. He barely glanced up as he tried to hold back a smile while grumbling, "You get mud and grease in this house and Hop Sing won't be fit to live with the rest of the day." He shook his head as he finally took a good look at the pair, and ordered, "Grab blankets from the credenza and get yourselves to the bath house. Scrub hard, because I'll check behind your ears." He laughed at the wide-eyed, dropped jaw expressions on his sons' faces. "Well…if you're going to act like little boys, I'll treat you accordingly."

The first light snow of winter had blanketed the road to town during the cold December Saturday night, but the Cartwrights had still headed into town on horseback the next morning for worship services.

The four men usually sat toward the back of the church—not for the usual reasons of making a quick getaway when the last word of the final hymn was sung, or to be less noticeable when they nodded off during the sermon—but because the large frames of Hoss, Ben, and Adam, tended to block the view for anyone sitting behind them.

It was the normal procedure for Adam to enter the pew first, followed by Ben, then Little Joe, and Hoss. Adam had requested this arrangement when he'd gotten back from school, explaining in great detail that it would ensure his attention remained on the service instead of on the fidgeting of his younger brothers. Little Joe grew antsy after a few minutes of sitting anywhere, and even at 17 Hoss still had trouble sitting still for the hour-long service. But a stern glance from Ben to the sons on his right side was usually enough to settle them back down for a few minutes.

The warmth in the building following the chilly ride in was having a sedating effect on the entire family as the minister expounded on the Sermon on the Mount. A simultaneous jump occurred along the line of Cartwrights as the homily came to an end with the preacher pounding his fist on the pulpit to bring home the message of promised blessings for living a Godly life. The family stood with sheepish grins and red glows illuminating their cheeks as the congregation was encouraged to join in a litany from Psalm 65.

Ben was still helping Little Joe find the Psalm in his Bible as he heard Adam reciting, "Praise waiteth for thee, O God, in Sion: and unto thee shall the vow be performed." It struck him strongly that Paul's prediction about Adam's voice had come true: it hadn't returned to "normal." Yet Ben smiled and sent thanks heavenward because Adam's voice was now better than it had ever been. If his eldest got upset and spoke rapidly, his vocal pitch still rose into the octave it had once been, but Adam's speaking voice had lost its rasp to become deeper, richer…warmer than it had been.

He often wondered if this was due to the injury to his son's vocal chords, or whether it was something that would have happened as he aged anyway. Whatever the reason, Ben was noticing that others heard the difference too…especially women, who'd listen in rapt attention to anything the young man had to say.

By the time Ben finally had his youngest settled as to where they were in the Psalm, the congregation was saying, "The pastures are clothed with flocks; the valleys also are covered over with corn; they shout for joy, they also sing." With the last words uttered, the organist hit the introductory chords of Love Divine, All Loves Excelling.3Ben's head snapped to his left as he heard Adam begin singing. Although his son's voice had begun changing to its current mellowness right after the trough incident with Hoss, he hadn't yet sung—or at least not that his father had heard.

Adam was singing the first stanza of the second verse, "Breathe oh breathe thy loving Spirit, into every troubled heart," when Ben realized that Adam's troubled heart had indeed had been visited by a healing spirit. With his son's ability to sing restored, Adam was truly healed.

Noticing his father's raised-eyebrow, Adam smiled widely as he sang out in a strong, perfectly pitched baritone.

Once the doxology and sending prayer were completed and parishioners began filing towards the door, Ben touched his son's shoulder and asked, "How long have you been able to sing again?"

"Since the beginning of that song," he chuckled. "I've been humming the last week or so, but that was all." Adam sat in the pew and motioned his father to do the same. Little Joe and Hoss were already on their way out the door, allowing him to speak freely. "I thought I'd probably try singing soon, but this morning when Mrs. Law started playing that last song, something just made me open my mouth and hear what would come out."

Ben nodded. "You sound good." He patted Adam's arm. "Are you able to hear that your voice is different now?"

"It's deeper and a little more resonant to me. Is that what you hear too?"

Ben nodded again. "That's true of your singing voice too. I know you had some tense times when you weren't sure how things would work out, but it does appear that all is well."

Adam looked toward the altar and leaned on pew in front of him. The church had emptied and the quiet wrapped both men in their private thoughts until the son inquired, "Do you think we ever really get to know why things happen to us, Pa? What's the lesson I'm supposed to learn from the Miller brothers?"

A chuckle preceded Ben's shrug. "I've asked myself the same sort of question many times. There's always something to be taken from the bad events, but there's seldom a revelation. More often it's just a change of heart, or the realization that you are stronger for the experience. I think it might be more important to appreciate the good things that happen, son. Many times there's a lot of good imbedded in the bad. If you don't see that, you miss so many opportunities to be a better man."

"You remind us of that pretty often."

Ben gripped his son's shoulder. "I wish you hadn't gone through that ordeal, but if there's good to be found, it's that it made you three brothers remember how much you care about one other, and you're none the worse for…"

Ben's words were cut short as a blast of cold air blew in from the opening door. Hoss stuck his head inside and whispered loudly, "C'mon you two. It's past noon already. You promised we'd get lunch before headin' back home, Pa, and them clouds up there are promisin' another round of flurries."

"We're coming, Hoss. I can hear your stomach growling way over here." Ben glanced at his eldest and winked before turning back to Hoss. "You and Little Joe go get a table at Maggie's and we'll be there in a minute."

Hoss was out the door and hollering for his brother to wait up while the two men still inside the church tied their neck scarves and buttoned their coats against the winter weather outside. As they neared the door, Adam stopped and said, "I think the Cartwright sons can be good brothers because we have a good father."

Epilogue

1861 - Five Years Later

"What's wrong, Pa?" Hoss glanced over at his father while waiting for Little Joe to make a move in their checker game. "You look like you don't feel so good."

Hoss's comment brought everyone's attention to Ben who put his paper down and sighed. "I found an article in the Sacramento Bee just now that will interest all of you."

Adam laid his book on his lap and sat up straighter. "Is it bad news? Hoss is right, Pa, you do look a little poleaxed."

Ben nodded and turned toward his eldest. "Do you remember Lawson Hill? He was that young rancher from Calaveras County, near Stockton."

"Sure, Pa. I met him in Sacramento a few years back at a cattlemen's event. He told me that he'd moved to Stockton in the '50s and had been having problems getting his spread going, so you and I took a few head of breeding stock over there to help him get his herd stronger. Adam's face puckered in thought. I can't remember his wife's name."

"Euphemia," Ben replied as he folded the newspaper into a square that was easier to handle. "They had a nice 1000 acre parcel with a good water supply."

"That's right. They had a couple of kids and a lot of faith that things would work out." Adam's eyebrows met at the bridge of his nose. "Did something happen to them?"

"Lawson was murdered a few months back. There must have been news of it when it happened, but I didn't see it. This article is about the trial and hanging of the man who killed him."

"That's a darn shame," Hoss offered. "I didn't know the feller but I feel bad for his wife and youngens."

Ben passed the newspaper to Adam who scanned the first paragraph of the article while Hoss spoke. He looked up, shaking his head slowly. "Lawson was only 35, and it sounds like Euphemia will have her hands full with four children under age 12." His sad look was replaced by a puzzled, angry one. "Why would anyone want to kill Lawson? I remember him as being pretty mild-mannered: a salt-of-the-earth kind of man."

Little Joe joined in. "Do you two remember this Euphemia well enough to know if she'll be able to handle the ranch alone?"

His father answered. "She's still very young, but when we met them, they were both committed to making things work. I remember her as being a small woman with big dreams and a lot of grit.4 I'll write to her and offer her any assistance she might need, but somehow I believe she'll be fine." He nodded toward Adam. "Keep reading, son. In fact, you might want to read the next part aloud so your brothers can hear."

Adam leaned in closer to the lamp and straightened the paper while finding his place again. "Mrs. Hill was the state's witness to the events on the day of her husband's murder. She testified that the family had returned from Stockton toward evening on the eighteenth of April, and were startled to see horses tied by the house. On hearing the sounds of breaking glass coming from their home, Lawson told her to take their children to hide in the woods, before he continued on to investigate.

"Mrs. Hill reported that while she was hiding, she heard hollering, and then her husband screaming for his life, followed by quiet. She left the children with the oldest son, and hurried to help, but made it to the edge of the woods only in time to see two men riding away. She found Lawson hanging by the neck in the porch rafters. It was too late to render assistance as he was already dead.

"Sheriff Ingram, from Stockton, testified that he formed a posse to look for the two men who left behind a rope that was finished at the ends with bright green cording."

Adam looked up, first at Little Joe and then to his father as he blew out a deep breath. "Is this article headed where I think it is, Pa?"

Ben nodded. "Keep reading."

"The rope was identified as a kind used by James and Peter Miller, brothers who worked at the ranch next to the Hill property. The two had bragged where they worked that their mother always finished their ropes that way so no one could steal them."

Ben shook his head. "I admit I wondered why they had that fancy rope back when they used it on you, Adam. Looks like it was mama's way of showing her boys she loved them."

"That is kind'a funny considering how tough them boys tried to be," Hoss said with conviction. "Maybe their mamma should have tied them up instead of that rope." He laughed at his own comment and then asked, "What happened?"

"If you'll all stop interrupting, I'll finish the article," Adam responded with a half-smile toward his younger brother.

"The Sheriff said they found the Millers hiding at their mother's house. A gunfight ensued and Jimmy Miller, as he was commonly known, was mortally wounded in the exchange. Peter Miller was apprehended.

"In his own defense, Miller admitted to helping his brother hang Lawson Hill after the failed robbery. He claimed that what they did to Hill was the man's own fault because he tried to stop them. His reasoning was that he and his brother were fed up with people standing in the way of their plans. All they'd wanted was the cash, but when Hill stood up to them, they had to teach him to mind his own business.

"It took the jury just ten minutes to hand down a guilty verdict and recommend hanging. Peter Miller was executed Tuesday at dawn. Eyewitnesses said he was laughing as the trap door dropped out from under him."

Although Little Joe was 17 now, he had the wide-eyed stare of the boy he'd been back when his path had crossed with the Millers. "I wonder why the Stockton sheriff didn't contact Roy about what they did to you, Adam?"

"The Statute of Limitations was up on the battery case from Virginia City, so I doubt there was any connection to what they did here." Adam set the paper aside as he rose.

"Well, at least you have the satisfaction of knowing that they got what was due them," Hoss offered.

Adam moved toward the door without answering his brother, and muttered, "Ah…I left something in my saddlebags." He was outside before anyone could respond.

"Did I say somethin' wrong?" Hoss's blushed.

"No, son. I should have known that article would open some old wounds."

"Why's that, Pa?"

"You and I might feel relieved to hear that the people who'd tried to kill us were apprehended, and wouldn't be coming back, but we're not Adam. I doubt he feels any satisfaction about what happened." Ben sighed deeply as he closed his eyes. "I'll go talk to him."

"Let me go, Pa

Little Joe stood. "Let me go, Pa. I might have some idea what he's thinking right now."

"I'm sorry, Little Joe, of course you do. Adam wasn't the only one who dealt with the Millers." Ben met his youngest in the center of the room and took his shoulder. "Are you all right with what you just heard?"

Little Joe nodded, and then shrugged. "I'm sorry another family had to be hurt, but there is good in knowing it can't happen again."

Little Joe found Adam sitting on an overturned pail at the front of Sport's stall stroking the animal's long, white blaze, while the horse kept pressing against his hand for more. The younger man asked, "Find what you were looking for?"

"I must have taken it in earlier," he replied without looking up, and then snorted. "Did you draw the short matchstick?"

"Huh?" Joe's nose wrinkled.

"I figure Pa wanted someone to come out and find me, and I assume you got the job by default."

"Nope. I volunteered."

Adam nodded but remained silent.

"Does your foot hurt?" When Adam sent him a questioning look, Little Joe continued, "I figure you've been kicking yourself since you finished reading that article."

The older brother chuckled.

"There's lots of things about you I don't understand, Adam, like how much you like reading and studying, and how hard you worked to be able to go East to school; how you dog stuff until you find an answer or understand what it means…and push at Hoss and me any time you catch us having fun instead of working; you're a granite-headed Yankee, and..."

Adam interrupted. "I get it; I'm different than you. Were you going to make a point?"

Little Joe giggled. "The point is that while we're different, I figure I've got a good idea what you're thinking right now."

"Are you thinking that I'm thinking I'd like to be alone?" Adam's words were terse but more teasing than sarcastic. He sighed and offered, "I'm sorry," as he looked up and gave his brother a quick, half-hearted smile. "That wasn't fair. I know you're all trying to figure out why I wasn't jumping for joy at hearing of the demise of the Millers."

The younger man sat near his brother and grabbed a piece of straw that he chewed on a bit before speaking. "I was young when we knew the Millers and sure didn't get why you were so hell-bent on helping me with them. At first I thought you were just sticking your nose in my business, but I found out back then that you would have done anything for me. It's the kind of man you are, and the kind I think I've become too. So it isn't a big jump to figure out that now you're wondering why you lived, while a good man with a family died. You think that if you hadn't recovered, the Millers would have been caught sooner, and then they couldn't have destroyed the Hill family." He watched as the smile his brother had tried a minute earlier returned.

"Maybe you're smarter than I give you credit for," Adam joked, but then his voice turned serious again. "I don't think we really ever talked over what happened, did we? I came to my conclusions, and it seems you've done some pretty deep thinking about this too. How did you figure out what I was thinking today?"

"First, I thank you for recognizing my intelligence. I know how much that must hurt." Joe laughed as he leaned forward and punched his brother in the arm. "As to how I know what you're feeling…don't you suppose I felt the same way when I walked into Paul's office and saw that rope hanging there? I was only 11, but knew right off who'd done that to you, and as I watched you struggling to breathe, all I could think was that it shoulda been me lying there. I was the one who got mixed up with the Millers."

"You've been able to move past that, haven't you?" Adam's interest was genuine as he shifted on his bucket to face Joe.

"Sometimes the best lessons come from the worst situations. The fact that you could have died from something that I started made me feel like such weasel, especially since I'd been such a rat to you after you caught me taking that stuff. I think I told you that."

"I recall." Adam grinned. "I didn't think you were quite the rodent you make yourself out to be, but your admission of caring about me is one of the nicer memories from that time." He reached up to scratch Sport's chin. "I think it's one of the first things you forgot about once I got better."

Little Joe squinted at his brother and shook his head, but didn't comment. He continued, "The second thing took longer, but was just as important. I wasn't responsible for what those two did to you any more than you're responsible for what they did to Lawson Hill. But I expect you know that too."

"I do, but reading that article makes a person realize what a…"

"Waste?"

Adam nodded slowly. "Since we hadn't heard anything about the Millers for some years, I'd thought that maybe what happened here might have made Mrs. Miller take a firmer hand with them. I'd hoped to hear one day that those two had made something of their lives. That wasn't the case though, and I think…well…"

"That what happened to you made no difference. They weren't stopped because of it, and nothing changed for the better either." Little Joe saw his brother's cheek flush pink as he dealt with the truth of those words. "I suspect that's because their mother didn't want to see the truth of what they were capable of doing. She probably just kept moving every time Jimmy and Pete got into trouble again. I remember Roy saying that they'd keep improving their methods until they murdered someday. Lawson Hill just got in their way on that day." Little Joe slumped back against the barn wall.

The older brother looked at the younger with admiration. "It does give you plenty to think about." Sport dipped his head and nudged Adam's cheek, making his master continue to scratch the bristly whiskers. "You and I were lucky, Joe. Pa led us by his example, as well as with discipline. I didn't always understand why he was so strict, but I appreciate it now. The Miller brothers could have turned out differently if their parents had been more like Ben Cartwright."

Little Joe nodded as he stood, and he reached down to help Adam up from the bucket. "C'mon. Let's go inside and let Pa know that all those 'necessary talks' he had with our backsides as kids may have paid off in the end."

Both men were still chuckling as they made their way across the yard. The younger brother stopped as they neared the house. Looking down at his feet, he said, "I didn't forget what I told you back then, and I'm sorry if you think I did." He looked up at Adam as he finished. "Fact is that I…do…ah…"

Adam laid his hand on his brother's back and gave him a nudge toward the front door. "I know you do. I feel the same way about you."

The End

1Proverb 11:29

2Job 4:8

3Words by Charles Wesley 1747

4 Lawson and Euphemia Hill are considered the prosperous family that the Barkleys of The Big Valley were modeled after. The Hills had a 1000 acre ranch near Stockton in Calaveras County, south of Sacramento. (This may have been considered a large estate, but nothing compared to the Ponderosa at 640,000 acres or 1000 sq. miles, or the much larger ranch and mines fictionally owned by the Barkleys.)

Lawson was murdered in 1861 leaving behind his 30 year old wife and four children: a daughter and three sons. Euphemia was able to run the ranch and made it prosper by making a deal with Milco Chemicals to produce Buhach, an insect repellant made from the chrysanthemum turreanum that she cultivated on their acreage. I was unable to find out how Lawson was murdered. The Hill's celebrity comes only because of their association with the Big Valley television show, and Euphemia being one of the strong women of the west to operate a ranch alone. The Hill Ranch was in operation from 1855 to 1932. The site no longer exists. It was flooded to make Lake Camanche.

I thought it would be fun to connect Adam's event with a person of history that became the basis for another wonderful old series.

As a note of interest...I originally wrote that the four Barkley children that corresponded to the Hill children were Heath, Jarrod, Audra and Nick. However, another writer reminded me that Heath was not one of "Victoria's" four children. However, there was a child named Eugene, featured on a few of the first episodes. He would have been the fourth original Barkley. Eugene was a medical student at Berkeley and Charles Briles, the actor who portrayed the youngest Barkley, was drafted into the army and written out of the series by the second season. The show had ended by the time he got out of the service. I love learning new things!