I do not own any of the Bonanza characters or any of the Hardy Boy characters. I am not making any money off of this. Please read and review! Thank you!

Joe stood in the general store, running his fingers over the smooth barrel of a shiny rifle. His birthday wasn't for a couple of months. Maybe when he turned eighteen his pa would buy it for him.

"Joe!" Little Joe's head snapped up as he heard his name being called.

"Yeah, Pa?" The words had just escaped his lips when he heard someone else say "Yeah, Dad?" Turning around he saw a blond haired kid.

"I think he was talking to me," the young man said with a smile.

A tall stranger stepped forward. "Joe, lets get going." He was looking at the blond haired boy when he spoke.

The kid put down the item he was looking at. Following his father, he disappeared out the door. By this time, Little Joe had stopped eyeing the gun and sauntered over to the counter.

"Do you know who that was?" Joe asked. He tried not to sound too interested, but he waited eagerly for the storekeeper's reply.

The man nodded. "Some famous detective." Scratching his fresh shaven chin, he laughed. "I don't know why Virginia City needs Fenton Hardy for. It not like he's gonna solve too much crimes around here."

"Fenton Hardy, huh?" Joe said, quietly. "Who was that kid with him?"

The man shrugged. "I expect it was one of his boys. He has two of 'em, you know."

"Where'd they used to live?" Joe asked, leaning forward on the counter and waited for the answer. "They don't sound like they're from around here."

"Someplace called Bayport."

"From the east?" Joe asked.

"That's what I heard," the man replied. Joe nodded, thoughtfully. That kid was probably another Yankee granite head like his brother.

Little Joe said a hasty goodbye as a couple of new customers stepped into the store.

"Watch where you're going you no good little runt!" It was in that moment Joe Hardy realized he had picked the wrong time to cross in front of the Bucket of Blood. Looking at the man, he couldn't bring himself to say he was sorry. The man was drunk. He stumbled out of the saloon as just as Joe was walking by the swinging doors. The man had smashed into him.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" The words slipped of Joe's mouth before he thought about what he was saying. Frank, his older brother, had told him often that his mouth would get him into trouble one day.

Before Joe could do anything, the man grabbed his shirt and spun him around, ramming him into the front wall of the saloon, his head smashing against the rough wood.

"Just because you're some famous detective's son, don't give you the right to talk to me like that, Boy." His words were slurred, and he was putting an enormous amount of pressure on Joe's chest. Struggling to breathe, Joe tried to wriggle away. The one of man's fist was inches away from Joe's face, and his grip on the fabric of Joe's shirt was so strong his knuckles were turning white.

"Let me go!" Joe managed to force out. He tried to push the man away, but all that got was a couple of raspy laughs.

"Hey, Lefty," the man called over to, what Joe guessed to be his buddy. "Give me your belt," the man ordered.

"Leave the kid alone, Jake," Lefty said. "C'mon, I'll buy you another beer." He wrinkled his nose at the thought of getting involved in another fight. It would be the third in two days. He was getting tired of them.

"His Pa will have you put away for beating on him."

He hoped the argument would dissuade his pal from doing anything. Unfortunately it had the opposite effect on Jake.

"I ain't scared of that lily livered pansy of a detective!" Jake shouted, frothing at the mouth. Joe had a brief vision of gallons of beer overflowing from the man.

"Fine," Lefty muttered, reluctantly. His fingers struggled with the belt buckle. He had one beer to many, himself, and his hands shook as they grasped and pulled the leather belt out from the loops. Joe's eyes darted from Lefty, and then to the crowd that had started to gather around the spectacle. Joe wanted to shout at them. They were all standing around looking like half wit goats. Most of them were dusty miners and cowboys. Maybe they were interested in seeing an easterner get the tar beat out of him. He shook off the thoughts and forced his mind back to what was going on.

With as much force as he could muster Joe flung out his foot hoping to connect with something. Jake felt it coming and dragging Joe away from the wall, he held the him at arms length. Joe was thrown off balance and would have fallen over backwards if Jake hadn't been holding him so tightly.

Grabbing the belt from his friend's shaking hand; Jake raised it above his head. Joe flung himself backwards with as much force as he could muster. There was a tearing sound, and Joe fell onto the wooden walkway. Jake's face turned purple in rage, and he leapt forward, dropping the piece of cloth that had been left in his hand. Joe was barely aware of the belt as it struck him on the shoulder. He was too angry. He rolled to the side and onto his knees as the belt struck him again, this time on the head. His vision blurred, but instead of cowering and waiting for the blows to stop, he dived at Jake. His shoulder connected with Jake's legs. The man toppled over, and landed on the ground with a thud. Joe scrambled over to Jake's upper body. Without giving him anytime to react, Joe slammed his fist into Jake's face. He was about to do again, when he felt himself being hauled away, from behind. His collar choked him as the person who was doing the hauling, yanked on it.

"Hey, what's going on?" A voice yelled.

Joe heard those words shouted above the ringing in his ears. He recognized the voice, but couldn't put a name or face to it. Digging his heels into the ground he tried to slow the dragging process. With a sudden jerk on his collar, it was then let go and he fell to the ground hard. Joe rolled onto his stomach and glanced up. It was the kid from the general store. Joe watched as the boy got a couple of good punches to Lefty's nose. He winced as one of Lefty's punches connected with the kid's face. Jumping up, he was about to throw himself in into the fray, when a fist smashed into his back, sending him flying. The world was starting to go black around the edges and his head was jerked back by his hair.

"You should have stayed in the east, Boy," Jake growled, into Joe's ear.

Joe tensed and waited for the inevitable. Instead, Joe felt his head being let go and Jake tumbled onto his back. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and he tried to roll out from under the heavyset man. Without warning, the weight was lifted and he turned onto his back and looked up. He was staring into the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

"Hey there," the man said. "looked like you needed a hand." He offered a giant paw to Joe.

"That's for sure," Joe said. He gave the big man a grin before accepting the offer of help up. Once he was on his feet the ground swirled beneath him and he stood there trying to get his bearings.

"Hey, are you okay?" The man asked, putting his hand on Joe's elbow.

"I'll be fine," Joe said, with a grin. The ground stayed in one place now, and he was able to look around. The crowd had disappeared. Jake and Lefty were lying on the crowd, but a couple of men from the saloon decided it wasn't good business to let the customers see them like that. They were hoisted away, quickly. The kid from the general store was breathing heavily, and his hat was lying in the dirt. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and a smear of blood went from his lip to his right cheek. He most of it away with the back of his hand, and stepped over.

"Thank you both, for all your help," Joe said. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure what I would have done if you two hadn't showed up.

"I didn't do very much," the younger man admitted. He nudged the big man with his arm, "My brother, Hoss, did most of the work," he said, a little sheepishly. He rubbed his jaw, "All I managed to do was get my face rearranged."

"Joe, are you alright!" Joe swiveled around. Frank, his older brother was running toward him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," He said, right at the same time as the other young man. Joe looked at the other kid quickly and grinned. Frank was appeared confused.

"You don't look fine to me." He stopped short. "Either of you…"

"Well, I got into a little scrape, but Mister…" Joe stalled for a second.

"Just call me Hoss," was the big man's reply.

"Hoss and Joe helped me out," Joe continued. He felt funny saying his own name.

"Most people 'round here call me Little Joe," the kid said.

"I can't thank you enough for helping out my brother," Frank said. He shook both of their hands and then turned to Joe. "What were you doing near the saloon?" He tried to sound nonchalant, but Joe knew his brother better than that. He wanted an answer and he wanted it now.

"Well, I heard they got a new shipment of whiskey and I thought I'd try a sip before I went to find you, like Dad asked me to do," Joe responded sarcastically. "I didn't realize that just by walking near the saloon I was in a fine way to get my head bashed in."

Little Joe grinned at this comment and then snatched his hat out of the dirt.

"I wonder if all Joe's are alike," Hoss said, with a laugh.

"You know what Aunt Gertrude is going to say about this, right?" Frank asked his younger brother as they headed for their horses.

"Oh boys! This place is so uncivilized. My brother should have known better, than to drag his family all the way out here!" Joe said, in his best sounding Aunt Gertrude tone. Then he rolled his eyes. Why did Aunt Gertrude have to come along with them, anyway? She should have stayed east.

Joe ignored the curious gazes from the towns people. He knew he looked awful. He felt awful, but he didn't want Frank to know that. He couldn't do anything about his appearance. His shirt was ripped beyond repair. He was covered in dirt and his boots were scuffed. He wouldn't have minded being so dirty, if his body didn't ache. He nudged his horse a little faster, and tried not to think about the aching in his head.

"Lets get home," Frank said, above Joe's muddled thoughts. Joe nodded.

It was strange hearing his brother say the word "home." Nevada was their new home. They had left Bayport behind. His heart ached at the thought of the town he had lived in for so long. This state was where he was staying. He lifted his head, and set his jaw. He was going to make the best of it, if it killed him…