"I can't believe it!" Ben Cartwright ran his hand through his thick, white hair in a manner startlingly reminiscent of his youngest son, Joe. "After all these years – to confess like that."
"There's no doubt?" Hoss asked hopefully.
Roy shook his head. "None at all. The governor investigated the whole affair before he wrote to me. Seems Burnett was in Virginia City that night, with another couple of drifters and he'd been drinking heavily. According to Burnett, they'd snuck into the barn and bedded down for the night. Seems they clear forgot to blow out the lantern and one of them must have kicked it over during the night and Burnett awoke coughing from the smoke and flames. He ran out of the barn and he just kept on running."
"He didn't even try to help his buddies?" Joe asked incredulously. He shook his head in disbelief. "Nice guy!" he added, with heavy sarcasm.
Hoss paced up and down the room, a look of deep concern on his face. "I reckon we should go into town and check Adam's alright," he said, looking to his father for confirmation.
Ben nodded. "That's a good idea. You boys go. I'll wait here, just in case he comes home." He could not bear to think of Adam arriving to an empty house.
The patrons of the Silver Dollar had taken one look at Adam Cartwright and decided to give him a wide berth. Even Susie kept her distance. There was something in the way the man moved, in his whole attitude that clearly indicated company was not welcome. He gruffly ordered a bottle of whiskey and then sat down at a table and began to drink steadily. By the time Joe and Hoss arrived, the bottle was more than half-consumed.
"Hi Adam," Joe said softly, gently laying a hand on his brother's shoulder. Adam flinched at the touch.
"Checking up on me?" He glared at Joe, who took an involuntary step backwards.
Hoss sat down and regarded his brother gravely. "Jist wanted to see how you was doing."
"I'm fine!" Adam retorted sarcastically. "Of course I'm fine! Why on earth wouldn't I be? I've had a perfectly wonderful time haying, and then I learn my testimony sent an innocent kid to his death. And finally, to cap it all, my little brothers ride into town to check up on me, like I'm the proverbial lost lamb. What could possibly be better than that?"
With difficulty, Joe choked down an angry riposte, realising that Adam was just lashing out blindly, needing to vent his anger and distress in any way he could. Hoss stared hard at Adam, concern evident in every fibre of his being.
"Don't you think it's time to come home now? I reckon you've had enough of that rotgut. Whiskey."
He reached out for the bottle, but Adam swiped it away and cradled it to this chest. "And I reckon I'm old enough to decide that for myself. You want to make me stop drinking?" He reached forward and poked Hoss in the chest. "Reckon you could that, do you?"
With a small sigh, Hoss shot a sideways look at Joe and then swung a fist, catching Adam on his chin. Joe caught the bottle as his brother slumped forward and watched in admiration as Hoss easily hefted Adam over his shoulder and walked out of the saloon without a backwards glance.
"Good evening!" Joe remarked pleasantly to the startled crowd, tipping his hat in farewell, before making a speedy exit. He could hear the excited conversations already beginning, even as the doors swung shut behind him. This little escapade was liable to be the talk of the town for days to come.
Adam made only minimal protests as they helped onto Sport and began the journey home, riding one on either side of him.
"I sure hated to do that," Hoss mourned. He couldn't bear to look at the large bruise that was forming on Adam's face.
Joe flashed him a brilliant smile. "Rather you than me brother!"
Any further conversation was brought to an abrupt halt as Adam lurched forward in his saddle with an ominous moan. With twin sighs of weary resignation, Hoss and Joe dismounted and started to help their stricken brother. Joe looked at the bottle of whiskey in his hand with disgust, and then threw it into the bushes. It was a long and rather dreadful ride home.
The next morning, breakfast was a much quieter meal than normal. Everyone concentrated on their plates and conversation was kept to a bare minimum. Eventually, Ben could bear the oppressive silence no longer.
"Roy Coffee came over last night."
The statement hung in the air for half a minute, as Adam bent his head and paid great attention to his bacon and eggs, without actually eating a single bite. "I thought he might. You know about the confession, then?"
Ben's voice was very soothing. "Yes, we know about that. But you mustn't blame yourself, son. You told the truth at the trial."
"Except it wasn't the truth!" Adam pushed his plate away and stared wildly around. "I saw Luther Evans near the barn and moments later, the doors opened and a man came running out as flames belched out after him. And I assumed that was Luther too. I put two and two together and I was wrong! How can I live with the knowledge that I helped to condemn a man to death? An innocent man!" Adam's voiced was choked with emotion and he dashed outside, leaving an untouched breakfast and an overturned chair in his wake.
As he grew, Luther Evans remained apart from the other children of Virginia City. Rigorously schooled at home by an ambitious father, by the age of eleven the boy was already fluent in Greek and Latin and remarkably adept in algebra, geometry and trigonometry as well. Unlike his peers, Luther spent little time outdoors, so as he rode home from school one afternoon, Joe was surprised to see the boy wandering aimlessly along the lake path. For four years Joe had heeded his brother's warnings and given Luther a wide berth, but now he was feeling rebellious. The Adam who had returned from college a few weeks before was proving to considerably less than indulgent towards his youngest brother and Joe was growing tired of his ceaseless admonitions to work hard at school, to do his homework as soon as he got back from school and to stop reading dime-novels. He gleefully grasped the chance to revolt against Adam and have some fun into the bargain.
"Hi Luther!" he called cheerily and the boy gave a start, then regarded Joe warily.
"I'm going for a swim – want to join me?" Joe invited, tying his pony's reins to a bush and pulling off his boots.
Luther shook his head. "I don't know how to swim," he confided.
Joe looked astonished. How could you grow up beside a lake and not know how to swim? "I'll teach you," he offered, but Luther refused, preferring to sit by the bank and skim stones across the water.
The water was icy cold, but Joe jumped in regardless, and was soon splashing around with considerably more enthusiasm than style, chattering away all the time. Luther began to smile and even ventured a small, timid laugh at one of Joe's terrible jokes. Then a thunderous voice interrupted the beginnings of their tentative friendship.
"What on earth do you think you're doing, boy?" Adam stood on the bank, hands on hips, the very personification of righteous indignation. Luther took one look at him and fled, while Joe waded slowly out of the water.
"Well?" Adam demanded.
"I was just swimming," Joe offered, his voice slightly muffled, due to the fact he was pulling his shirt over his head at the time.
"At this time of year! Don't you have the sense you were born with? You could freeze to death!"
Joe knew his brother was right and concentrated on pulling his socks onto feet that were blue and numb with cold. There really wasn't much he could say, he reflected sadly, and inwardly steeled himself for another brotherly lecture.
Adam tried very hard not to smile, as he watched Joe struggle with his boots, yet refusing to admit defeat and ask for help. Joe seemed to grow more stubborn with each year that passed! He missed the little boy who had looked up to him and asked for advice and help and was still not entirely comfortable with this self-assured, supremely confident youngster.
As anticipated, Adam began to inform Joe, in great detail, of the foolhardiness of his ways. The boy sat stoically on his pony, listening in silence and only contributing a "yes" or "no" when appropriate pauses seemed to deem it necessary. But when Adam started to tell Joe that Luther was not a suitable companion, he finally exploded.
"Guess I'm old enough to chose my own friends!" he yelled, urging his pony into a gallop that left his brother looking stunned and bemused. Quickly gathering his wits, Adam took off after Joe, who was riding far too fast for safety across the meadow.
High in the clear, cloudless sky above them, a hawk circled lazily around, scanning the ground for prey. The long grasses parted momentarily to show a brief flash of white and the hawk pulled his wings back, soaring downwards after the rabbit. Descending steep and fast, it swooped past the nose of the galloping pony, which reared up in fright and then gave a series of wild bucks. Taken totally by surprise, Joe flew out of the saddle, disappearing from sight among the meadow grasses.
"Joe!" Adam reined his own horse to a standstill and took off on foot, frantically calling his brother's name as he pushed his way through waist-high foliage. A small, almost involuntary whimper brought him to an abrupt halt and he saw Joe lying in small, huddled heap on the ground.
Adam fell to his knees and ran gentle hands over his brother's body. Joe winced in pain and tried to sit up.
"Take it easy," Adam advised, trying hard to stop his voice from trembling. "You took quite a fall there." Predictably, Joe ignored this.
"I'm fine!" he said shakily, his words at total odds with his pale face.
"Sure you are," Adam soothed. "But I got a real shock. Just humour me and let me check you out, alright?"
Joe nodded, and then wished he hadn't, as the pounding in his head increased. He steeled himself, but could not restrain another anguished whimper when Adam gently touched his left arm.
"I think it might be broken," Adam said, taking off his bandana and fashioning a sling, which he tied around Joe's neck. "How about we get you home?" He knew better than to mention Paul Martin, for Joe's aversion to the doctor was assuming legendary proportions in the Cartwright household. Meekly agreeing that this would be best, Joe allowed himself to be hoisted onto Adam's horse and gratefully leant back against his brother as they resumed their journey home.
As Joe lay sleeping off the effects of the ether Paul Martin had administered before setting his arm, Adam related the events of the afternoon to his father.
Ben looked concerned: Adam and Joe were bucking heads rather too often for comfort. It seemed as if there was no common ground the brothers could agree upon and the 12-year age gap seemed to stretch into infinity as his eldest son strove to establish his place in the hierarchy of the Ponderosa, while his youngest fought to prove he was no longer a child. Thank heavens he had one levelheaded and sensible son, Ben thought, looking fondly at Hoss.
"I understand that you're wary of the Evans boy, but it has been four years," he advised. "A lot can change in that time. And it's always dangerous to interfere in friendships."
Hoss looked at his father and then at Adam. "Seems to me that Luther could do with a friend. I reckon Little Joe just felt sorry for the boy. He aint got no buddies at all and that's plumb wrong! We all need a friend."
Adam clapped him warmly on the shoulder. "You're probably right, brother. I'll try not to ride Joe too hard, but there's something about that boy that worries me."
Three days later, Joe found himself at a loose end. The doctor had advised he stay off school for at least a week, but a broken arm meant he was effectively barred from riding. His father and brothers were busy bringing the herd down to lower pastures before winter set in and consequently Joe was rather bored with life. Hop Sing soon grew impatient with the child getting underfoot and despatched him to the lake, with instructions to get some fish for tea.
"Can't see how I can bring in one of them big perch with one hand!" Joe grumbled, but trotted off contentedly enough. Hop Sing smiled: Joe had never caught anything over two pounds, so he judged the boy was complaining out of sheer habit.
Nearing the lake, Joe saw that Luther was once more skimming stones across the surface. He watched in awe as the flat pebble bounced four times. "You're really good at that! I can only get it to bounce three times. Well, not even that some days," Joe said, omitting to add that the days he achieved three skips were few and far between. "You wanna help me fish?"
Luther had never fished before, so Joe happily showed him how to cast the line out onto the lake and then wait patiently until a fish rose to take the bait. As the boys waited, they chatted idly and Joe was astounded to hear that Luther was expected to study from eight in the morning until dinnertime, and then to do homework for another two hours each evening.
"When do you get time to play?" he asked.
"No time for that," Luther informed him. "There's so much to do if I want to go to college when I'm 16."
"Aint that a bit young?" Joe asked curiously. Adam was the smartest person he knew and he'd been a whole two years older when he went back to college.
Before Luther could answer, the fishing line drew taught and Joe showed his new friend how to gently bring the fish in.
"We should gut it now, but I'm not allowed a knife yet," Joe said. He was astounded when Luther produced a stout pocketknife and opened it display an array of blades. Selecting a long narrow blade, Joe placed the fish down on a patch of grass and then gave Luther instructions.
"You did a real good job, there!" Joe looked at the neatly filleted fish and Luther flushed with pride. "You wanna cook it and eat it here?"
Luther thought this was a great idea, never having cooked food outdoors and readily agreed. The two boys collected dried branches and carefully built a small fire, surrounded by flat stones. As the fish was cooking, Joe looked at Luther curiously.
"So how come your Pa aint teaching you today?"
"He's over in Sacramento, doing business," Luther replied. He'd picked up the knife and was gently toying with it.
"What kind of business?" Joe persisted, not noticing the hesitation in his friend's voice whenever his father was mentioned.
"Oh banking, meeting with people, buying new books for me," Luther said vaguely His entire attention was focused on the knife and he watched in rapt fascination as it cut into the skin on his arm, leaving a thin line of blood welling up in its wake. He repeated the motion again, accompanying the action with an almost inaudible sigh of relief.
Joe was horrified. "Don't do that!" he begged. "You're hurting yourself!" He snatched a handkerchief from his pocket and was about to offer it to Luther, when the elder boy reached forward and pulled a slender branch from the fire. Its tip glowed red and there was a faint hissing noise as he pressed it firmly against the wounds on his arm. Luther repeated the action over and over again and Joe could see the scars of previous wounds.
"It's getting late! I've gotta go!" he stammered. Luther barely paid any attention as Joe scrambled to his feet and ran home as fast as he could.
Adam was surprised to find Joe waiting for him in his room when he got back home that evening. The boy was obviously miserable, with a woebegone expression.
"You feeling alright, little buddy?" he asked. Joe just nodded, refusing to meet his brother's eyes. "Anything I can help you with?" Adam continued, sitting down beside Joe. He was astonished when the boy cuddled in to him and began sobbing.
"Why do people hurt themselves, Adam? Why? It aint nice and I don't see why they do it!"
Not understanding, Adam reassured the child. "Most people are good and don't hurt anyone. However, sometimes men like Sheriff Coffee need to use their guns to keep everybody safe. But you don't need to worry, because nothing is going to happen to you. You've me and Pa and Hoss all looking out for you and for each other. Do you understand?"
Drying his eyes, Joe snuffled his agreement. He understood alright: he understood that Adam didn't know what his brother was really talking about. For a moment, Joe debated revealing the whole truth about the events by the lake, but he felt sorry for Luther, and if he told Adam, then Luther would just get into trouble with his father. Joe decided it was best just to leave things as they were. And to give Luther Evans a wide berth in future. He didn't like the sound of Mr Evans and he was sure Luther was frightened of him.
In fact, it was not until Luther Evans left Virginia City at the age of sixteen that Joe confided in his family about what had really happened, that long-ago day by the lake.
"I always knew that boy was peculiar!" Adam fumed.
"I don't think the fault was all Luther's," Ben said. It made his heart ache to think of what agonies the child must have gone through, if hurting himself became a pleasurable experience. Then again, perhaps this was the only way Luther could exert any control over his regimented life? He looked at three sons: they might have their differences, but they were strong and independent young men. Perhaps Joseph was a little more strong-willed than his father might have wished, but all in all, Ben felt he had done a good job, bringing up his boys to stand on their own two feet and to accept the consequences of their actions.