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The Lake

"Joseph, where's your shirt?"

"There," Little Joe said pointing to where his plaid shirt lay over a haybale beside a larger, yellow shirt.

"Well, put it back on."

"Adam gots his shirt off."

Ben Cartwright looked at his oldest boy, his broad, tanned back, bare, while he worked replacing the corral fence. It had needed new uprights and cross poles for a long time, the old ones having been there when Ben bought the place and even then, they had shown signs of rot. But last night, a new stallion that had been dearly bought, had knocked down a pole and escaped the enclosure. Ben considered himself fortunate the horse hadn't gone far, just a few yards where he passively cropped grass. It hadn't yet been branded and the way things were in the area - still wild and basically lawless - anyone who found the animal could claim it and the only way Ben could get the stallion back would be to shoot the man – dead. Not an option to Ben.

Then Ben looked at Joseph. He was short for his age and Joe often asked about getting taller. Malachy Shaughnessy who was his age was taller by "this much," Joe always said, raising one hand high over his head as he tiptoed. and so, Joe worried. The dungarees he wore were hand-me-downs from Hoss and too big in length as well as width; a rope kept the pants sitting just below his small belly and the cuffed legs broke at the top of his dusty boots. And the child needed a haircut – his hair was an uncontrolled mass of auburn curls that fell on his forehead and about his ears and covered the nape of his neck.

"I'm not raising a family of heathens, going about half-naked!"

Adam glanced away from his work to his father. "You mean half-dressed."

"Now, Adam, don't play that little game with me! When you get to college you can try to trick your professors with words but I don't have the time. Joseph, I told you to put on your shirt."

"But it's hot!" Joe whined, "and Adam don't havta put on his shirt!"

"Joseph! I'm not in the mood for your whining. Now, just…"

"I'm ready, Pa!" Hoss yelled as he loudly pulled the front door shut. His father had made him go back inside and wash his neck and feet before they left for town. "I can't have you trying on new boots with grime between your toes. And I can't let you try on shirts and dungarees with filth ground into the lines about your neck!"

"Get in the buckboard, Hoss." Ben turned his attention back to Little Joe whose large green eyes were half-filled with tears. "Now, Joseph…oh, never mind - I don't have time for this. Adam, keep an eye on Joseph - and Joseph, you mind Adam and do what he says – and stay out of the house—hear? Hop Sing is canning the last of the fruit and vegetables and won't have time to deal with you, not to mention all the pots of hot liquid in the kitchen. That room is going to be hot as Hades by the end of the day – just about as hot as it is out here." Ben shaded his eyes and looked up at the relentless sun. It was too hot now for anything to grow in the garden; the sun scorched seedlings and wilted anything that managed to survive within a few days. Adam kept working. "Did you hear me?"

Adam stopped, annoyance in his voice as he replied, "Yes, Pa, I heard you."

Ben considered snapping back with a comment on insolence, but instead, climbed up on the buckboard seat. Little Joe ran to the wagon in the familiar manner of children, on the balls of his feet, straight-backed, arms angled to his sides.

"Pa!" Joe stood by the wagon wheel, looking up and squinting, the sun was already so bright.

"What is it?" Ben wearily picked up the reins. He dreaded going into Eagle Station and having to pay a ludicrous price for Hoss' clothes - and the boy grew at an amazing rate. "I told you, Pa, quit feeding him and he'll stop growing." Once more people moved there, once another person opened another mercantile or general store, prices would drop but now it was either buy at Eagle Station or drive to Carson City and pay almost as much for his trouble.

"Will you bring me some candy back? Please, Pa?"

"We'll see. If I have any money left, maybe then."

"I can have some candy too iffen Little Joe gets some, can't I?"

"Hoss, I said, we'll see." Ben glanced at Adam who leaned against a finished section of the corral grinning. Ben snapped the reins on the horse's back and the buckboard slowly rolled to leave the yard. He heard Adam call out, "Joe, watch your toes!"

Adam was hallway putting up the new corral fencing when the Bonner brothers rode up accompanied by Carl Reagan. Jeff and Rick Bonner were more like twins than brothers, being born only 11 months apart. They were always with one another whether it be laughing or fighting, and the enemy of one was the immediate enemy of the other. And from the moment they first joined in concocting mischief they were hellions, according to their father and weary mother. They helped on their small ranch as their father hired out as head drover on cattle drives, sometimes as far away as Texas since he was one of the best around – known to be honest and fair yet never putting up with laziness or drunkenness in the drovers. He was gone for months at a stretch. But once their chores about their place were finished, they hopped on their horses and rode about the countryside looking for trouble such as beehives to knockdown, break open, and steal the honey combs once the bees deserted it. They also pulled down fences – just for fun, of course – and stole eggs from chicken houses to toss at front doors and windows of the houses on the outskirts of town. And although the Bonner brothers effusively denied it when accused, it was said they set fire to a few line shacks that started a wildfire that destroyed about thirty acres of the Ponderosa before a heavy rain doused it. For that alone, Ben Cartwright resented his eldest running with them.

As with the Bonner brothers, Carl Reagan had also left school at 13 and eschewed books and math except, he liked to joke, counting how many girls he could kiss – an immense number! And once Adam had retorted, "Yeah, but when it comes to counting how many let you kiss them twice, it's zero." And Carl had sulked. Adam had ruined his joke. Carl always eyed Adam cautiously. Adam wasn't better looking, Carl knew, but the girls preferred Adam because he was rich; that had to be the only reason. But the Bonner brothers and Adam knew Carl had a quick temper but instead of outright fighting, Carl was sneaky. Although Rick and Jeff would suck the honeycombs from a knocked-down hive, Carl would stomp on it and ground it into the dirt. Or, as it was suspected, he would scoop it up in a tin pail and smear the honey on a secret enemy's doorstep and sashes of open windows to attract ants and biting flies – and the person never knew they had an enemy in Carl as he would smile the next time they met. But he smiled because he knew.

"Hey, Adam," Jeff Bonner said. He always spoke first. Adam always wondered if his being the oldest of the group was why. "It's a hot one. How 'bout we go swimmin' in that fishin' lake on your property?"

Adam paused and so did Joe, the hammer's head dropping between his legs. Adam had taken a spare piece of milled timber and started nails that stood out of the board like porcupine quills. Then he gave Joe a hammer and the child, needing both hands to manage the tool, tried to nail them in. Most he bent over and then smashed flat into the wood. Adam knew his father would rail about the waste of nails that cost money but to Adam, it was worth it to keep Joe busy and out of trouble. And as long as he could hear the hammer fall, he could work with his back to Joe; Joe had a tendency to wander off. He was like a magpie – anything "shiny" caught his attention and he was gone.

"You three go ahead. I have to finish replacing this corral fencing."

"Why?" Carl said, looking at the fence. "It looks fine to me."

"A horse knocked down a section and since it's old and partially rotted, well, I'm replacing the whole thing."

Carl sneered and leaned over on his horse. "I'm bettin' it's your daddy's idea. Hell, Adam, ain't you tired of being used like slave labor? Doesn't anyone on this place do any work but you?" The Bonner brothers snickered. "I finished my chores early on and my ma said for me to go find someplace and cool off!" At that, the Bonner brothers broke out in guffaws and Carl giggled. They knew as did Adam, that Carl had a hot temper and often muttered and argued when he felt his mother was asking too much of him and she probably told him to go do something and get out of her hair for a while. But he shared his temper equally with anyone who crossed him. But he was always careful with Adam.

Joe, who sat holding the hammer with both hands, listening, smiled at the last comment because the older boys had laughed. Suddenly, Carl turned on him. "What're you smilin' at, baby? Go suck your sugar tit." Joe's smile dropped.

"Shut up, Carl. Leave him alone," Adam said. "I've told you before – he's just a kid."

"He's a pain in the ass! You've said so yourself!"

"Maybe so, but he's my brother and I can say it – you can't."

Carl only grinned wider. "Make your life easier, Adam. Why don't we just get rid of him – take 'im into the woods and lose him someplace – or toss 'im off some mountain top? Then you won't be bothered by 'im anymore."

Adam moved quickly, grabbing Carl's shirt-front and dragging him off his horse; Carl landed heavily in the dusty yard.

"Leave Joe alone." Adam's chest was heaving. Joe watching with large round eyes; seeing Adam this way was intimidating – and wondrous.

"Okay, okay." Carl stood up and dusted himself off; he was bristling with anger. "And everybody says I got a temper," he muttered. Although Adam was probably his best friend, Carl resented him. Since his father was the Ponderosa foreman, the Reagan family depended on the Cartwrights for every morsel they put in their mouths. And being in a position like that, almost a petitionary position, didn't sit right with him. One day, he told himself, he'd have more money than the Cartwrights – more money than anyone. "Are you comin' swimmin' with us or not?"

"Yeah," Rick Bonner said. "It's scorchin' and you've been workin' out here. Your pa won't mind you taking a break and cooling off. Just a dip in the lake. C'mon with us. Hell, you can leave whenever you want, can't you? Or does your daddy still strap you when you misbehave?"

Teasing was like a spur in Adam's side; it made him want to buck off all restraints. And he envied his friends their freedom. He knew his father depended on him but sometimes he just wanted to go have a little fun with his friends. There was nothing wrong with that. And he had already been working for a few hours and made quite some headway. He could spare an hour or two. After all, even the water he drank to cool off was hot.

But responsibility hung on him – almost as a physical weight. "I have to watch Joe."

"Bring 'im along," Carl said, toying with his horse's reins as he stood in the yard. "I promise I won't drown 'im." Carl giggled at the idea of Joe, his arms flailing wildly while he held him under by the top of his head.

"Adam," Joe said, his voice quavering, "I don't wanna go and be drowndeded!"

"Joe, no one's going to drown you … I promise." Suddenly Adam remembered the jokes he had made about drowning Joe in the horse trough and a flush of shame flowed through him. "Carl's just joking."

"Maybe I am," Carl giggled, "and maybe I'm not." The Bonner brothers laughed too but Adam stepped menacingly toward Carl. Carl put up one hand. "Okay, okay. I'll stop."

"Tell Joe you're sorry."

"Hey, Adam, Ain't that going a little too far? I mean he's nothing but a snot-nosed brat!"

"Tell him." Adam stood braced; if he had to, he'd knock Carl down.

"Oh, hell. If it'll make you happy – I won't drown you, Joe," Carl said as insincerely as he could muster. "Now are you comin' with us?"

"Yeah, but for just a little. Joe, wait while I bridle my horse. You all water your horses if you want, and Carl…"

"What?" Carl had one foot in a stirrup, ready to raise himself into the saddle.

"Leave Joe be."

~ 0 ~

Adam rode bareback with Joe in front of him, Joe's short legs barely hanging over the horse's sides, the sun beating down on their bare shoulders. They rode behind the others to the swimming lake – not too large a lake, but large enough that a man couldn't swim from one side to another. A large boulder rose a few feet from shore. Hoss would sit there to drop his fishing line as the water around it was deep; the lake dropped off quickly and wading in, before a person knew it, his feet stepped into nothingness and he fell into the depths.

Once there, Adam jumped down from his horse's back and reached up for Joe who put out his arms, sliding into Adam's.

"Will you teach me to swim?" Joe asked as the four older boys began to shuck their clothing. They were eager for the excitement of swinging out from the rope hanging from a huge cypress tree that leaned over the water, its above-ground roots gnarled like arthritic fingers.

"Not today." Adam, pulled off his boots but stopped at his trouser buttons. Joe pouted, his lip stuck out.

"I'll tell Pa you went swimmin'," Joe threatened, his brow drawn.

"You don't have to," Adam said, sliding his trousers down over his hips and legs and stepping out of them. "I'll tell him myself. Now you listen, Joe, you stay here at the edge of the lake. You can wade out but no deeper than your belly. Understand?"

"What're you gonna do?" Joe said petulantly. "I don't wanna be all by myself."

"Come on, Adam!" Jeff Bonner called out. He, Carl and Rick were at the base of the cypress. A thick branch hung low enough that, now they were taller, they could each grab it underhand, and raise themselves by pure arm strength, swing their legs out and up and hook their legs over another branch. After that, it was an easy climb to the branch where a thick rope hung from the one above.

This was the third summer that the rope was there. The four often swam in the lake during the hot months, dunking each other or racing back to shore. But the first summer, one day when Carl, Jeff and Adam were all 14 and bobbing in the water, Carl suggested a swing of sorts.

"We could tie a rope from that cypress – it hangs out over the lake already. Then we could swing out and drop into the lake. Tha'd be fun. I mean right now, all we can do is dive off that boulder – that's gettin' old."

Rick and Jeff splashed water at each other, both expressing agreement with the idea.

"Hey, Adam," Jeff said. "Your place has lots of rope layin' about. Bring one down tomorrow and leave it here. Next time we all come swimmin', we'll decide which branch." Both Rick and Carl agreed with the idea.

"I don't know…" Adam said, his arms making small circles just below the surface. "I mean rope is expensive. And my Pa would notice it gone."

"Oh, c'mon, Adam," Carl said, slapping water at Adam. "You tellin' me you can't just lift a rope from some ranch hand's saddle?"

Adam, using the heel of his hand, pushed water at Carl. "I'm not stealing another man's lariat."

"Hell, Adam," Carl said with a sneer, "don't you ever do anything wrong?"

Carl dove underwater, Adam waited; he knew Carl was circling like one of those sharks he'd read about in books. Then he felt the hand "goose" him. Adam dove down, his feet flipping up into the air before disappearing below, and searched for Carl who swam before him, his arms flat against his sides, his feet flapping as he cut through the deep water. Adam kicked harder and finally, he could push out a hand and grab one of Carl's ankles, pulling him down. Carl bent over in the water, angry at being caught – Adam always caught him - and was going to wrestle with Adam underwater. But Adam had already released him and swum off and up, breaking the surface of the water. Adam used his long arms and strong back to swim to shore and when he reached the Bonner brothers who waited in the water, all three laughed, flipped over and swam to shore leaving Carl bobbing in the lake, fuming at being bested again by Adam.

But the next week, there was a rope at the foot of the tree. Carl said he had found it – must have fallen off some passing cowboy's saddle. But the other three knew that more than likely, Carl had stolen it in town, either from some cowboy's horse outside the saloon or from the General Store's sidewalk goods display. But there was no use in asking Carl for the truth. They all knew that.

Adam paused again; he could already feel the cold water on his parched skin and looked back again at Joe. "I'm going swimming, like I said. Now don't go in deep. Need help pulling off your boots?" The guilt he felt at leaving his work at home and Joe on the shore, made him unusually solicitous.

"NO! I don't need no help!" Joe said, angry at the situation. If only Hoss were there. Hoss would play a game with him. Lately, Adam hadn't been any fun. Joe had heard the talk of Adam leaving for school and at that moment, Joe wished he was already gone. He didn't need oldest brother anyhow.

"Fine, suit yourself. But listen," Adam jabbed a menacing finger at Joe. "Stay near the shore or I'll tan your feathers worse than Pa could." Joe stuck out his tongue. Adam grinned and then loped to the tree where the others had already swung themselves up and begun to climb.

Each time Adam swung his legs up over the higher branch to begin the precipitous climb, his heart pounded. And as he climbed upward, from branch to branch, the excitement rose in him, all the more so because it was tinged by fear. First, there was the height. When they tied the rope three summers ago, they had argued about how high to take it. Carl, of course, argued for a ridiculously high branch but Adam, who'd had some experience with cutting trees, gave his opinion – that the branch was too thin and that one day, the trajectory of a swing-out might just snap it. The Bonner brothers, who had no experience with much of anything except helping their father a few times on small cattle drives, agreed with Adam. Carl cursed at them all and called them yellow-bellied cowards, afraid of falling into a lake. But they all knew that if the branch broke, they would more than likely fall onto the granite boulders below.

But it was the swinging out over the waiting water and then the release of the rope that always made Adam's heart stop – the freefall through the emptiness and then into the water where one was swallowed whole into the dark depths. Then, the rise to the surface and the sun and sky and life – ready to go again.

Joe sullenly worked at the knot in his rope belt. Then pulled off his oversized dungarees and boots and waded out until the water rose to his waist. He dipped his head and took a long drink of the cool water, then, bending his knees, he let the water rise to his neck as he watched the older boys, whooping and laughing as they climbed the cypress and swung out over the lake. And the fall! Joe couldn't wait to be tall enough to imitate them, they way they grabbed onto the lowest branch and then swung up and over another branch and climbed higher and higher – almost to the heavens, Joe thought. Joe figured it had to be a hundred feet – a thousand feet high!

Joe stood up and walked back closer to the shore where he sat in the alluvial silt, knees drawn up, and searched for crawfish. He liked to catch them, avoiding their little pincers, and then tossing them further into the lake. It made him feel as if he was, in his own way, flirting with danger as well. But Joe soon grew bored. He looked about for something to do and saw a white-tailed jackrabbit sitting in the tall grass under a tree. Joe slowly stood up so as not to disturb the water and make noise. He began to creep toward the rabbit, bent over as if he were a predator. He saw some swamp onion and knew the bulbs were edible and maybe rabbits ate them After all, Hop Sing was always chasing rabbits from his garden because they ate his onions as well as everything else; he even offered Hoss a nickel for every rabbit he shot. And, Hop Sing promised, he would make a good rabbit stew for dinner and give Hoss the skin. But not even Hoss' stomach or the feel of soft fur could induce him to kill a rabbit.

Joe pulled up some of the onion and held it out in front of him slowly approaching the rabbit. He could see it watching him, watched its ears alert and saw its nose twitch. Then it bounded away – but just a few feet. Joe decided that if he could catch it, he would have a pet rabbit and Hoss would be jealous. Hoss might be bigger and stronger, but he didn't have a pet jackrabbit. And every time Joe approached the rabbit, it would bound off – but just a short way – and Joe followed into the shade of the surrounding trees, chasing his elusive prey.

~ 0 ~

Adam popped up from underwater. He and the others were going to race to shore this time; Rick was gong to count to three. But scanning the shore, Adam couldn't see Joe as he had all the other times he came to the surface

"Joe's missing," Adam said, his heart pounding in his ears. Jumping from the tree, hurtling downward into the water was no fear compared to this – his little brother having disappeared.

"Good," Carl said. "Nothin' but a pain in the ass anyway.

"Shut your stupid mouth, Carl," Jeff Bonner said. He knew the bonds that bound brothers and it was more than mere blood. "You're a goddamn jackass." Carl was going to toss an insult at Jeff in return, challenge him to a fight but knew the odds were stacked against him; if you fought one Bonner, you fought both.

"He's probably somewhere near the shore, Adam, we'll find 'im," Rick said. Both brothers swam toward shore and Carl followed. Adam, before swimming back, looked up into the tree just in case Joe managed somehow to get up into the branches – that would be just like Joe, always wanting to do what he and Hoss did - but Joe wasn't there – only the wind moved anything.

Once to shore, the boys stood and looked around while Adam called out.

"Maybe he wandered off, Adam," Rick Bonner offered. He could see the panic on Adam's face.

"No. His dungarees and boots are still here. You don't think he went deeper and …." Adam couldn't say it, was even afraid the think it and the words choked him. He pictured Joe's small body floating lifeless in the depths, his skin milky like a fish-belly, his eyes hollow and empty, staring into nothingness.

"Not even Joe's that stupid," Carl said.

Adam was too upset to resent the insult and, in his way, he knew Carl was offering comfort. Adam walked about on the shore of the lake, hands to the sides of his mouth, calling out, scanning the lake; he wanted to run about madly, yelling for Little Joe. Then Rick Bonner told Adam to come there – damp grass, small footprints that, from what he could see, led toward the trees.

"Look," Jeff said, "We need to break off and each look for Joe. We'll call out when we find him."

Adam could only nod. Since there was no indication of just where Joe stepped into the trees, they each entered about 20 yards apart, all calling out for Joe, for him to answer. Adam could barely speak; his mouth was so dry with fear that his tongue became thick and his lips stuck to his teeth. "Joe, Joe Joe! Where are you?" He waited but other than the far-off sound of the others' calls, Adam heard no response. "Oh, please, Joe, please," he whispered. "Oh, God, please." Then he heard Carl.

"Hey – got 'im!"

Adam headed out of the trees and could hear Carl laughing and Joe's young voice shouting, "Lemme go! Lemme go!" And once Adam was back with the Bonner brothers, Carl came out holding a struggling Joe by an upper arm with once hand and by the hair with the other. Joe held on to Carl's wrist with both of his hands to keep from having his hair pulled and tried to kick Carl.

Carl held Joe as far from him as possible. "Looks like I caught myself a minnow," Carl said laughing as Joe struggled in his grasp. "Should I throw 'im back? Not big enough?"

"Lemme go! I'm gonna tell!" Joe said, still struggling.

Adam strode over and placed one arm about Joe's middle, lifting him slightly.

Carl let go of Joe's arm and hair and still laughing, said. "Hey, let's fillet 'im and roast 'im over a fire!"

Overcome with relief at having Joe safe, Adam shoved Carl away. His protective instincts had rushed to the forefront. "Shut up, Carl! And you didn't have to hold him that way." Adam placed Joe on the ground and said to him, "Go get dressed." But before Adam could turn back to Carl, he felt Carl's foot hook him behind his ankle and off-balance, Adam fell over, landing hard on his back.

Adam quickly jumped up, regaining his feet, and Carl was already crouched, circling. "You should be thanking me for botherin' to find him at all. But what do I get? Pushed. I'm no snot-nosed kid, Adam, that you can treat that way, C'mon. C'mon, Mr. 'High and Mighty', Mr. 'Rich College Boy'. I can kick that smart ass of yours any day."

The Bonner brothers stood, watching. They knew not to interfere as fair was fair – Adam had shoved Carl first. Joe moved to stand next to Jeff Bonner and looked up at him imploringly. "It's okay Joe. They're just going to tussle a bit – you know – wrestle. Don't worry." Then, out of some unexpected tenderness from within himself, Jeff said, "I won't let Adam get hurt. I promise." Joe reached up and took Jeff's hand and Jeff closed his fingers about the smaller ones.

The two boys circled one another; they were evenly matched as far as strength but Adam was a bit taller. And he waited for Carl to come at him, poised on the balls of his feet to move quickly to one side or the other. And then Carl dove at him, grabbing Adam about the waist. But Adam had dropped his heels when he detected the movement and used his weight against Carl to avoid being knocked on his back. But Carl, having failed at knocking Adam off his feet, pushed against Adam, trying to dislodge him from the spot. Adam chose his moment and moved quickly to the right. Carl, having lost the ballast of Adam's torso, fell over onto his right; he let go of Adam to prevent twisting his shoulder and arm. He started to rise but Adam was quickly on top of him, straddling his chest. Carl twisted, attempting to throw Adam off but Adam grabbed Carl's wrists and held them down. Both were breathing heavily from their exertions.

"Get off me, Adam!" Carl snarled, still trying to find a way to unseat Adam, his hands in impotent fists, his face twisted in anger. He kept trying to shift his weight.

"Ask for it," Adam said through gritted teeth, "ask for mercy." Adam wanted it to end quickly; he didn't like fighting in front of Joe but with the way Carl had treated Joe, he had to fight him. Besides, Jeff and Rick were watching. He knew that if he hadn't challenged Carl, they would tease him, call him a yellow-back and chicken-shit and make the rest of the summer miserable. Or he'd have to fight them both and although he had easily taken down Rick on a few occasions, Jeff was thicker and taller and always won in their contests of strength.

"Okay, okay!" Carl's head was raised as high as he could, his thick, damp curls falling over his forehead and into his eyes. "Mercy."

Adam sighed, relieved, and released his grip on Carl's wrists, beginning to rise and then it came – Carl twisted his hip and Adam fell into the dirt. And then they wrestled in earnest, each trying to best the other. They were silent except for the intermittent explosions of breath and grunts. Finally, Carl had Adam face-down in the dirt, sitting on his back.

"Now you cry mercy!" Carl shouted. "Who's on top now?"

Adam's muscles ached and he wanted to just quit, to ask for mercy and give Carl this one but he couldn't; Joe was watching and so with one last effort, he pushed up, his hands flat on the ground and rolled over taking Carl with him. In his fury at finding himself in the dirt again, Carl swung out a fist and caught Adam on the jaw, a glancing blow but it hurt and knocked Adam backwards. Both boys jumped to their feet and Adam swung out and caught Carl on the cheek, his fist sliding against Carl's nose. And the blood began to pour.

"He's bleeding!" Joe said, tugging on Jeff's hand. "I don't like it!' Joe started to cry. This was bad – blood meant someone was really hurt. "Stop 'em, Jeff! Please!"

"Okay, Joe," Jeff said. "Watch him, Rick." Rick moved over to stand with Joe, uttering words of comfort, while Jeff went to Adam and Carl.

"You sonovabitch!" Carl yelled at Adam. "You broke my nose. Look at this blood!" He held out his hands which were smeared with blood, and his nose still bled. It ran down his chin and dripped onto his chest and belly.

"That's enough, you two," Jeff said. "Carl, get in the water – it's cold enough to stop the bleeding." He stepped closer to Carl. "And I don't think it's broken – besides, if it is, it'll only improve your looks." Jeff grinned.

Rick laughed out loud and Joe, looking up at him, decided he should laugh too.

Carl turned toward Rick and Joe. "Shut your mouth, Joe. You're the one got me into this, you little snot-nosed…." Carl headed toward the water and Adam started after him, his hands in fists.

"Don't call Joe a…" But Jeff grabbed his upper arm and Adam swung toward him, ready to fight anyone – even Jeff Bonner.

"It's over, Adam. Let's all get dressed and go home."

Adam sighed and stood up straight. "Yeah. I guess it is." Jeff and Rick picked up their trousers and started to dress. Joe ran toward Adam.

"You beat up Carl, didn't you, Adam? You're better than he is, aren't you?" Joe looked at his older brother with admiration.

"I don't know about better, Joe. I think I was just luckier. Now put on your pants."

~ 0 ~

Adam guided the horse along the well-worn path from the lake to the house, Joe sitting in front of him, telling Adam about the rabbit he saw with the white-tail and how he tried to catch it for a pet. Adam just listened, noticing the scent of Joe's hair mixed with sweat and that particular smell that children and puppies have.

"Adam?"

"What, Joe?"

"You think Pa'll let me have a pet? I'd like a puppy. Think Pa'll let me have a puppy?"

"No, I don't think so. Too many dogs kill chickens and such."

"Maybe he'd let me have another pet, one that don't kill chickens."

"Like what? We have a barn cat already."

"Yeah, but he's not a pet. He's mean too – he bit me once when I tried to pick him up."

Adam smiled to himself. He could see Joe chasing the cat around the barn, trying to catch it, saying, "Here, kitty-kitty."

The brothers rode in silence for a while. Then Joe spoke. "I'm sorry I left and went after the rabbit, Adam."

"I guess it doesn't much matter now."

"Adam, are you gonna tell Pa about me not staying by the lake and doing what you said?"

"Now, I can't tell on you without telling on myself, can I?"

"I don't understand…" Joe looked up at Adam and smiled. "Oh…if you tell Pa I went after the rabbit and didn't do what you said, then he'll know we went to the lake."

"That's right?" Adam looked over Joe's head.

"Adam?"

"What, Joe."

"Can it just be our secret? Just you and me's secret?"

"You want it to be a secret? Don't you think we should tell Pa about it?" Adam gave Joe a half-grin.

"No, I don't think we should. He's got lots of worries. I won't tell Hoss neither. He won't know our secret, that we went to the swimmin' lake and you punched Carl in the nose – but I'd sure like to tell Hoss that part. He doesn't like Carl neither. Carl calls him 'fat boy' when you're not around."

"Oh, he does? What does Hoss say back?" Adam cocked his head to the side and looked down into Joe's face.

"Hoss doesn't know what to say. Last time he just said he ain't fat – just big, but Carl laughed and said it was mighty big fat. Adam, why're you friends with Carl?"

Adam thought for a moment. He and Carl had known each other for years, since they were seven or eight years old, and since Will Reagan worked for the Cartwrights, it just seemed a natural friendship. But Carl was a mean one and Adam saw it in many ways and yet, there were things about Carl he liked. Carl could be cruel but there was also a tenderness about him. Once Carl had found a bird with a broken wing and nursed it until it was well enough to fly away. And he loved his parents a great deal. They had him late in life; his relationship with them was more like one a child has with grandparents.

And Adam felt Carl needed a friend. Many a time Carl had talked about his longing for a wife and family of his own someday and how he wanted to make enough money so that his father never had to work again and his mother would never have to work around the house because he'd hire her a cook and housekeeper. And Carl had expressed sympathy as he had listened to Adam talk about his problems with Marie De Vaille, Joe's mother. And Carl had even placed flowers on her grave.

"Carl's not that bad, Joe. He just likes to pick on people, sometimes."

"Oh? Why?"

"I think 'cause he feels bad about himself."

After riding for a few more minutes, Adam and Joe rode into the yard and Adam handed Joe down. Then he slid off the horse's back and looked about. The place was quiet except for the smoke from the kitchen stovepipe, evidence Hop Sing was still at his canning.

"Okay, Joe. I'm going to work a little longer on the corral fence. Then we'll get something to eat, okay?"

"Okay, Adam."

"And stay with me – don't run off. Understand?"

"I understand, Adam. I'm gonna stay right here, even if a hunnerd rabbits come jumping by. I'm gonna stay right here!"

"Good," Adam said, taking up a rail post.

"And Adam, I'm gonna keep our secret. I'm not gonna tell nobody – nobody! Not Pa or Hoss or Hop Sing – nobody!"

"Good." And as Adam continued in his hot work, he wondered how his father would punish him when Joe told him about the lake.

~ Finis ~