Twenty-two year old Joe Cartwright stepped into the Silver Dollar Saloon, standing by the counter.
"Hey, Little Joe!" The bartender said, smiling.
"Hi, Sam," Joe said returning the smile.
"Can I get anything for you'?"
"Yeah," Joe said, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a coin, tossing it on the counter. "Gimme a beer, will ya'?"
"Sure thing, Little Joe." Sam poured it into a glass, handing it to Joe.
"Thanks," Joe said, sipping his beer.
"Hey kid," a deep voice said from behind Joe.
Joe turned around. "Hi, mister. Something I can do for you?"
"Maybe so," the stranger said, motioning for Sam to give him a beer.
"You wouldn't happen to be Joseph Cartwright, would you?"
Joe smiled. "That's me."
"My name's John Clayborn."The stranger lowered his voice. "I hear tell that you're sweet on Joyce Walton."
Joe shrugged, turning back to his beer. "What's it to you?" He said, sipping the beer.
"Listen to me, kid, and you listen good. Joyce is my girl, and if you don't leave her alone, you'll regret it," he said, lightly tapping his pistol.
"What I do is none of your business," Joe said simply, turning away.
Clayborn grabbed Joe by the collar, jerking Joe to face him, he threw a solid punch to his jaw.
Joe turned away, trying to ignore him. "I'll just assume you've had too much to drink, and we'll drop it at that."
"You yella' or something?" Clayborn sneered.
"I don't want any trouble," the hot-tempered boy said, as calmly as he could manage.
Clayborn chuckled. "Too late, Cartwright. You've already got trouble." He landed another punch to Joe's face.
Joe, being very hotheadded, couldn't just stand there and take it, and he certainly wasn't about to walk out.
He threw a punch at Clayborn, and Clayborn returned with a punch that knocked Joe across a poker table.
The fight ensued for a few more minutes, but Joe finally had Clayborn lying on the floor, unconscious.
Joe shrugged, and walked out the swinging doors of the saloon.
He untied Cochise from the hitch-rail, swinging into the saddle, and rode for home.
"You mean you got into a fight over a girl?" Ben Cartwright asked, staring straight at Joe.
"Pa, what else could I have done?" Joe asked, sighing. "Just stood there and let him hit me?"
"Or you could have simply walked out," Mr. Cartwright said.
"Me? Walk out? Pa, I couldn't just walk out. You know what the town would think?"
"Joseph," Mr. Cartwright said, sounding more than a little annoyed, "It would have been better than getting yourself hurt. You know, just because you can fight better than some doesn't mean you can best everyone who comes tour way."
"I know that, Pa. But I wasn't just about to walk out like that."
Pa sighed at his youngest son's strong-handedness. "Look, Joseph, Just do me a favor, would you?"
Joe glanced up from where he sat on the couch. "What's that, Pa?"
"Take your feet off the table."
Joe threw him his innocent smile, removing his feet from the table. "Yeah, Pa, sorry."
Joe rode Into Virginia City the next morning. He dismounted, tying his horse to the hitch-rail and stepping into the bank.
"Little Joe!" A young blond girl with light blue eyes said, from behind the counter.
"Hi, Joyce," Joe replied, throwing her his irresistible grin. "How are you doing?"
"Oh, just fine, Little Joe. It's kind of busy this morning, but as Papa always says, the more business, the better."
Joe smiled.
"Did you need something?"
"Nothing but to stop in here and say hello. I've gotta get going though. Pa needed me to pick up a few things from the store."
"Alright, Little Joe. I'll see you later."
"Bye, Joyce." Joe untied his horse, and barely had one foot into the saddle when he felt something cold and hard against the back of his neck.
"Alright, kid," snarled a familiar voice. "Come on down. Slow and easy."
Joe stepped down from the horse. Clayborn removed Joe's gun from its holster, tossing it on the ground. "Into the alley, Cartwright." He gave Joe a push toward a dark alley behind several buildings. Joe walked into the alley, followed by Clayborn. Three men were standing there, staring at Joe. "You got the better of me in the saloon yesterday...embarrassed me in front of the whole crowd. Let's see how you make out this time, kid." Clayborn nodded at the other men in the alley. "Show him what I mean, boys."
Three of them advanced toward Joe, who managed to throw a punch at one, before two of them grabbed each of his arms, holding him back.
Little Joe grunted in pain as Clayborn landed several solid punches to his stomach and face. By the time he'd finished, Joe's face was a mess of blood and dirt. The two men holding Joe let go, letting him fall carelessly to the ground, his arm twisted awkwardly beneath him.
"We ain't finished," Clayborn said. "Stand 'em up." One of them took Joe by the collar, jerking him to his feet. "Gimme your canteen, Mark," Clayborn ordered.
Mark handed Clayborn his canteen, who poured some of it on Joe's face. Joe groaned, opening his eye for a second.
"Kid, wake up," Clayborn said, back-handing Joe in the stomach, and proceeding to pour more cold water over him.
Joe opened his eyes, groaning in pain. "Thought that might do the trick," Clayborn said, grinning and emptying the canteen. "You listen to me Cartwright, and you listen good."
Joe ignored him, staring straight ahead. Clayborn grabbed him by the chin, jerking his face toward him. "Look at me when I'm talking to you. I'm telling you to leave my girl alone, because if you don't, you've got a lot more of this coming to you. You understand?"
Joe said nothing, still ignoring him. "Put the kid on his horse," Clayborn said, jerking his head toward Cochise.
Sid and Mark lifted Joe on his horse, slapping Cochise to get him moving.
Ben sat in the living room beside the fire, slamming his book closed.
"Isn't that brother of yours ever goin to get home?" He asked impatiently. "Shoud have been home hours ago."
"Aw, Pa," Hoss said. "He's probably talking to Joyce and lost track of the time. You know Little Joe. When it comes to girls, you never know what he'll do. He'll probably be home soon."
"Hiss, I told him to get the supplies, and then come right back. It shouldn't have taken him more than two hours to be back here. To be honest, I'm kind of
worried."
"You don't need to be worried. Little Joe can take care of himself. He'll be back soon."
At that moment, they heard a horse riding up.
"See what I mean, Pa? That must be him right now."
Mr. Cartwright smiled. "I wonder what kept him so long?"
Joe rode up to the house, dropping from his horse. Using the hitch-rail, he pulled himself uncomfortably to his feet, managing to make it to the door.
He turned the knob and stumbled into the house, falling forward, unconscious.
"Joe!" Mr. Cartwright cried, running to the side of Joe, Hoss behind him. "Here, help me get him onto the couch, Hoss." Hoss picked Joe up, gently carrying him to the couch.
"Hop Sing!" Mr. Cartwright called.
Hop Sing came out. "Mr. Cartwright?-What happen to Little Joe?!" He said worriedly.
"I don't know," Mr. Cartwright said, running his fingers through Joe's matted hair. "I need a cloth and some water. Hurry up with it."
Hop Sing returned a minute later, handing Ben a basin of cold water and a cloth.
"Hop Sing go for doctor?" He asked, untying his apron.
"No, Hop Sing. I'll send Hoss."
Hoss nodded, heading out the door.
Mr. Cartwright gently bathed Joe's face. "Hop Sing, get me blanket."
Hop Sing ran up stairs, retrieving Joe's blanket from his room, and handed it to Mr. Cartwright, who laid it over Joe. "Who would want to do this?" Mr. Cartwright asked himself, gently feeling over Joe's body, in search for any broken bones.
Mr. Cartwright couldn't find any, so he carried him up to Joe's room, and resumed to bathe Joe's face.
Hoss returned a few minutes later with the doctor, and brought him upstairs.
"How does he look, doc?" Mr. Cartwright asked as they walked downstairs when Dr. Peters had finished examining Joe.
"There's no broken bones or concussions, Ben," he said. "But when he wakes up, he's going to be hurting all over-especially his ribs. I suspect the best thing for him right now is plenty of rest. Don't let him get up when you can help it. I'll be by in a few days to check on him, but he'll be alright. Just give him time to recover."
Mr. Cartwright let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, doc," he said, opening the door. He glanced at the black sky.
"Just remember what I told you. Don't let him be getting around yet." He walked out the door, and climbed onto his wagon, waving to Ben.
Ben turned and walked back inside, glancing at Hoss who was standing by the fireplace, staring into the fire.
He looked up at his father. "He going to be alright, Pa?"
"Doc says he will, but he'll need a lot of rest. I'm going to go up there and sit with him. We'll get Roy in the morning."
"Pa, you need to get some sleep. It's past one o'clock. I can go sit with him. You can go to bed."
"Are you sure, Hoss?"
"Sure am. You go get some sleep." He ran up the stairs, quietly opening Joe's door, and coming in to sit on the bed beside him.
"Don't you worry, little brother," Hoss said softly. "I'll find the man who did this to you, and I'll kill him. So help me, I'll kill 'em." He stroked his brother's face gently, whispering to him. "And I won't let nobody stop me. Not Pa, not Adam, not Roy, nobody. I promise you."
Adam trotted up to the house on his horse, stopping at the hitch-rail. Swinging from his horse, he muttered something about his little brother being 'too lazy to even tie his horse up.'
"Here, Coch," he said, taking the horse's halter. "Jim!" He called, and and young ranch hand came out of the barn. "Need something, Adam?"
Adam nodded. "Yeah, take care of these horse, will you?" He handed him his horse and Cochise's reins, and went up to the house. "A nice hot bath and bed are sure going to feel good after today," he muttered, yawning as he opened the door.
He looked around the room. Apparently everyone was in bed, as he figured they would.
He heard someone coming down the stairs, and from the noise he made, he could only know it was Hoss. Adam grinned, crossing his arms over his chest, and waited. A moment later, Hoss came in to view, carrying a bowl. "Hop Sing!" He called. He caught sight of Adam. "Adam." He gave a slight nod of his head. "I guess you didn't hear what happened."
Adam raised a skeptical eyebrow. "No, as a matter of fact I didn't. Suppose you told me? Maybe it has something to do with Little Joe not taking care of his
horse."
Hoss nodded. "It does, actually. Just a minute and I'll tell you about it. Hop Sing!" He called again.
Hop Sing came out of the kitchen. "Hoss? How Little Joe?"
"He's still unconscious. Here, I need some more water." He handed Hop Sing the bowl, and turned back to a completely perplexed looking Adam.
"Unconscious?" He repeated. "Are you fellows joshing me?"
Hiss shook his head. "I think you'd better come upstairs with me." Hop Sing came out of the kitchen and handed him the bowl of water.
Adam followed Hoss upstairs and into Joe's bedroom. He opened the door, stepping up beside Joe's bed, and setting the bowl on the desk. "C'mere, Adam." Adam's heart in his throat now, he slowly approached his youngest brother's bed, at this time expecting the worst. Hoss pulled the blanket back, and Adam let out a small gasp of surprise. "What the heck happened to him?"
Hoss shrugged. "I don't know, but I'm sure gonna find out."
"Is he alright?" Adam asked in concern, sitting down on the bed beside Joe.
"Doc said he'll need a few days of rest, but he'll be find."
Adam let out a sight of relief. "Any broken bones?"
Hoss shook his head "None at all."
They stayed up for a while talking, and after a while, Adam said he was going to turn in, and left the room.
Hoss sat with Little Joe for a while, before he dozed off in his chair.
He awoke next morning to find his father kneeling beside Joe's bed. Hoss rubbed his eyes. "Morning, Pa," he said, standing up and stretching.
"Morning, Hoss. Has your brother woken up at all yet?"
Hoss shook his head. "Not yet, Pa." No sooner were the words out of Hoss' mouth when a small, weak groan came from the bed. Joe's head was lolling from side to side, and another groan escaped his lips.
"Joseph?" Mr. Cartwright said, glancing up at Hoss excitedly.
Joe's eyes opened slowly and he bit his lower lip, glancing up at his father and brother. He licked his lip before opening his mouth to speak; "P...Pa?" He said weakly, biting his lip again. "It hurts."
Mr. Cartwright smiled sympathetically and set down on the bed beside Joe. "I know it does, son, but you're going to be alright." He ran his fingers loving through his youngest son's dark curls. "You're going to be just fine."
Hoss grinned down at him. "You sure are good at getting out of work, aren't you, little brother?"
Joe managed a weak version of his famous grin. "Always was."
Hoss smiled again. "Well, I guess I have some work to do get done before breakfast. After all, I'm going to be doing to people's work for a while." He tousled Little Joe's hair one last time before walking out the door.
Downstairs, Hoss strapped on his gun belt He'd made a promise to his little brother, and whether Joe had been too unconscious to hear it or not, he meant to keep that promise. Stepping outside, he saddled his horse, and mounting it, he rode off for town.
Adam climbed out of bed and rubbed his eyes sleepily. He glanced around the room. Something had happened to Little Joe last night, but he couldn't remember what it was. "Probably just a dream," he said to himself, shrugging off the matter for the present as he dressed himself for the day.
He glanced out his window and saw Hoss riding away, and everything came back to him. "Of course!" He said, snapping his fingers. He rushed out of his room, and into Joe's.
"Hi, Pa." He glanced down at Joe, who was eating. "Well, I see you finally decided to wake up long enough to eat, brother," he teased, smiling.
"Hi, Adam," Joe said, smiling.
"How you feel?"
"Terrible, Adam. Gee, my ribs feel like they're broke, but Pa says they ain't."
"Glad to hear that, Joe. Say, where's Hoss going before breakfast? I saw him riding off."
Pa shrugged. "He said had some chores to get done before he ate. I'm sure he'll be back soon."
"Sure he will," Adam said, grinning. "Hoss doesn't miss meals."
Hoss rode into Virginia City. He didn't know how he was going to find out who has beaten his little brother, but he would, and when he did, he'd teach him a little lesson. He stopped at the Silver Dollar Saloon and stepped in.
"Hi, Sam." He nodded at the bartender.
"Hi, Hoss. How are you today?"
Hiss tossed a coin on the counter. "Gimme a beer. Sam?"
Sam turned around from the cupboard as he pulled out a glass. "Yeah Hoss?"
"Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt my little brother?"
"You mean Little Joe?" Sam asked, handing Hiss a glass and bottle of beer. "No, not that I recollect."
Hoss bit the inside of his lip. "Alright Sam. Thanks.
"Wait, Hoss! I remember Joe did get into a fight the other day. I think it was over a girl or somethin'."
"Sam, you're right. I remember him telling Pa about that. You know the fellow he got into a fight with?"
"That would be me," a voice standing at the counter only a few feet away from Hoss said, lifting his glass to his lips, and looking straight ahead.
"I suppose you didn't have anything to do with beating up on little brother yesterday, did you?" Hoss asker suspiciously.
"Maybe I did, but then again, maybe I didn't," John replied evenly, turning toward Hoss. "Why do you ask?"
Hoss' eyes narrowed in anger. "Because I'm gonna kill the man that did it, that's why."
John chuckled. "So he's your little brother? My, if I'd known he had such a big, strong older brother to fight his battles for him, why I never woulda laid a finger on him." He grinned.
Hoss gritted his teeth in anger. "So it was you?"
"To be honest, I have to admit it was me." Hoping he had Hoss distracted,, Clayborn made a slight motion with his hand, and the same men who had beaten on Little Joe, seated at tables behind him began advancing toward Hoss. But Hoss noticed it, and quick as lightning, his gun was out of its holster, cocked and aimed the the group of men.
"Don't come a step closer," Hoss warned.
"Alright. Alright," John said, moving his hand away.
"Now you," Hoss said, staring at Clayborn so hard that his eyes seemed to bore through him. "I have a fight to pick with you, mister," Hoss said, beginning to unbundled his belt. As he did so, all three men were drawing their guns, but before they even knew what was happening, three shots fired and all three fell dead to the floor.
Hos holstered his pistol and turned once again to John, who unbuckled his gunbelt, letting it drop to the floor.
Hoss followed suit. "Now let's see how tough you are when it's just you instead your men to do it for you," Hoss said, bawling up his fist. Aiming at Clayborn, he threw the punch, but Clayborn dodged. Running past Hos, he swooped up his gunbelt and shot out of the saloon before Hoss knew what had happened. Hoss grabbed his own gunbelt, buckling it on and heading out the saloon. It took only moments for him to catch up to Clayborn.
Unfortunately, Clayborn pulled out his gun, aiming it at Hoss. "Come a step closer, big man, and I'll shoot a hole right through you," he warned.
Behind him, a gun clicked, and a deep voice said, "No you won't."
"Adam!" Hoss grinned, elated. "When did you get here?"
"Let's just say I know you only too well, big brother," Adam said, removing the gun from Clayborn's hand. "First, out little brother gets himself beat up. You suddenly have chores to do before you've even eaten breakfast. That's just not like you, Hoss. Pa didn't think of that, so I figured I'd better follow you. Lucky I did." Adam turned to Clayborn. "Now, I believe you two were going to have a little fight. Don't let me interrupt you, gentleman." He took a step backward out of the way, tossing Clayborn's gun aside and out of reach.
Hoss rolled up his sleeves. "I've been lookin' forward to this," he muttered.
The fight didn't last long. It was only a minute before Clayborn was laid out on the front, unconscious. Hoss grinned at Adam, rolling his sleeves back down. "Well, that went well. How's Little Joe, by the way?"
Adam couldn't suppress his own smile. "He's fine. He's hurtin' a lot, but he's fine."
Together, they mounted their horses, and rode off home.