What the Wind Blew In

by Marla Fair

One day the wind blows in a woman claiming to be Ben Cartwright's daughter. As her claim appears to be valid, Belle moves into the Ponderosa bringing trouble from her past in the form of a man who is obsessed with her and who blames Ben Cartwright for taking her mother away. Before the end the lives of the Cartwrights and the Ponderosa itself are in danger of going up in flames.

3. Part Three

Chapter Five

Joe thought about that wolf he and his brothers had been tracking a few days back. It had been the three of them against the one of him. At the time all he could think of was what an advantage that was, having the three of them there to circle him, tighten the net, and pin him down.

Now, with the Makem boys closing in, he was thinking about the wolf's point of view.

From the time he'd left the open area in front of the Makem's house until now, he'd been on the move. He hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast and while he not about to faint or fall down, he was feeling it. The edge he usually had was dulled by fatigue and hunger and he was worried he'd make a mistake. The Makem boys, on the other hand, showed no signs of slowing down. He could hear them now. They were close. They were beating the brush and every once in a while one of them took a shot, as if they fired blind into the tall grasses hoping to hit him. As he held still, listening, he heard one of them shout. He thought it was Ned. What part of his words the wind carried to him seemed to indicate that Ned thought he had seen him. As the Makem brothers' voices converged, Joe headed in the opposite direction toward the wide stream that cut through the back of Makem's property. They called it the Little River even though it was just a wide stream. He and Jimmy had had some good times fishing and swimming there four or five years back.

Joe darted between trees and crawled through grass for ten minutes or so before ducking down behind a clump of bushes. By the time he did, he was breathing hard and his head had grown light. Though he was doing his best to ignore it, fear had a tenacity that stuck it to a man's bones and he couldn't shake the fact that the men pursuing him wanted to hurt him. He really couldn't see Rob or Ned Makem as a murderer, but he knew they believed in their pa and whatever Alvin Makem had told them had them madder than wet hornets.

They were out for blood.

Another shout brought Joe's head up. It was even farther away than the first one. He thought it was Sam, one of the middle boys. That accounted for three of them and left Jimmy and Moore as wild cards. He didn't really think Jimmy would hurt him, but as the youngest brother he would have little or no control over what his older brothers or father did.

So, where was Moore?

Joe held his breath and listened. Night had fallen, so he couldn't see his pursuers, but then that also meant they couldn't see him. Even though he wanted to fly fast as he could, he heard his oldest brother's calm voice in his head telling him to go slow and stay low. The only way they could catch him was if he made too much noise, so he had to be sure he didn't. What saved him, could send him to his grave as well. One stick snapped underfoot, one cough or sneeze, and they would have him.

"Cartwright! We know you're out there! You cain't get away. Why don't you give yourself up?"

It was Robert again. He must have slipped around the back and come in on the other side.

"That's right, Joe. You ain't gonna get away," Ned added, his voice coming at a forty-five degree angle to his brother's. "We've got you surrounded."

Joe swallowed hard. They had him ringed in.

Just like the wolf.

The Makems were closing in; their voices drawing closer with each pounding beat of his heart.

"We're all around you, Cartwright. Ain't no place for you to go!"

Joe sucked in air. They were right about him being surrounded, but they were dead wrong about him having no place to go.

There was always the river.

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Ben Cartwright had left his men behind to look for the Indians. He knew he could trust Hank to see it done right. There was a feeling in his gut that he couldn't let go of and it told him that he needed to get back to the ranch and his boys. He had arrived ten minutes before.

There wasn't a sign of any of the boys.

The older man had asked the ranch hand that was tending the extra horses in the stable about it. He said that none of them had returned, though their guest had come in about midnight. Ben had gone in to check his boys' bedrooms and then looked in on Hop Sing. No one had seen Adam, Hoss, or Joe in the last twelve hours. He was contemplating going up and knocking on Belle's door when the handsome young lady appeared at the top of the stairs dressed in riding clothes.

"Belle," he said, crossing to the staircase, "are you planning on going somewhere?"

She descended to his level. "I was planning on going out to find you."

"Where are the boys?"

Belled shook her head. "The last one I saw was Hoss. He looked up two of your hands and they brought me home."

"Where were Adam and Joe? I've not reared my sons to abandon a lady or a charge to look after one."

She shook her head. "It's not like that. Little Joe went off on that errand you set him. When he didn't come back, Adam took off to look for him."

"Didn't come back? How long was he gone?"

She thought about it. "Four, maybe five hours."

The Makem's house could be reached on horseback from Virginia City in an hour. Joe should have been there two and a half, maybe three hours at most. "What time did Adam leave?"

"Around supper time. Then Hoss followed a quarter to a half hour later." She paused. "Adam was very worried."

He nodded. "Joseph, for all his youth, can take care of himself under normal circumstances. Alvin Makem and his boys would make it six to one. And they're all built like giants."

Joe, of course, was not.

"What are you going to do?" Belle asked, her eyes wide with concern.

"I should be out there with the men looking for those renegade Indians, but my sons have to come first. I'll head into town and if I can't find them, I'll ride out to Alvin Makem's."

"Please, take me with you."

He touched her arm. "Belle, this is not your fight. These men are mean and, most likely, dangerous. I can't allow you to expose yourself to such danger."

She looked down and then lifted her head and met his eyes. "I know you don't believe I am your daughter. That's all right. Most likely, if I was in your boots I would think the same thing. But, well, whether they are my brothers or not, I think of Adam and Hoss, and Little Joe as if they were." She paused. "I want to do something to help."

Ben looked at her with sympathy. "Can you handle a gun?"

"No."

"Or ride fast in the saddle? Or maybe stalk someone and shoot to kill if you have to?"

Belle blanched. "No."

Ben took her by the shoulders. "While I appreciate your offer, and your feelings, I am afraid you would only slow me down and, in the end, be in the way."

"You love your sons deeply, don't you?"

Without hesitation he answered, "They are my life." As tears brimmed in her eyes, he added, "I'm sorry, Belle, they have to come first –"

"It's not that," she said, turning away. "I only wish I had known such a father's love. My stepfather was a good man in many ways. He worked hard to make sure my mother and I were comfortable and never wanted."

"But..."

"I always knew I was not his child. He loved my mother and she loved him, but most of the time – as far as William Babylon was concerned – I was in the way." Belle laughed sadly. "I was definitely not his life. I have never..." She drew in a breath. "I have never known such a love as your sons have."

"Surely there's been someone – you're a beautiful woman, Belle."

"There were boys, and then men, but none of them counted. They either wanted the things I would not give, or wanted the things I had. My mother was considered a wicked woman. Men just assumed I would be the same, and since we were well-off..."

"Men are fools," he said.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Not all of them."

At that moment Ben heard the sound of horse's hooves beating the ground in front of the house. With hope he flew to the window and looked out. Regrettably, it wasn't any of the boys.

It was a city slicker in a dark gray tailcoat and black top hat.

Belle followed him. He heard the sharp intake of breath the man's presence elicited and felt her grip his elbow.

"Please, Benjamin, please. Don't tell him I am here."

"Who is he?"

She hesitated and then replied, "Jarvis Barrot, my step-father's former business partner."

"What is he doing out here and so late?"

"I'm not sure. At first when I saw him in town today, I assumed he had followed me from back East. He couldn't have my mother and so he ruined my step-father, taking his company and driving him to an early grave. For some time, it was just my mother and me against him and then when she died, well –"

Ben started. "Jasmin is dead?"

She nodded. "It was after she died that I decided to come looking for you. I'm sorry. It seems I have brought my troubles with me."

He patted her hand. "Don't you worry. Now, what do you want me to tell this Jarvis Barrot?"

"He's going to say he's come out to see if he can do business with you. Don't believe him. Jarvis is not interested in business. The only thing that snake is interested in is vengeance and retribution." At his look she went on. "I'm sure you don't remember him. Jarvis was a sailor too. He fell in love with my mother while in Barbados, but she cruelly rejected him. When he asked her why, she told him."

"Yes?"

"My mother told him she wanted nothing to do with him because she was in love with you."

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"It's blacker than the heart of a coal mine out here, Adam. How are we gonna see to track Joe?"

"The good thing about that is that if we can't see him, neither can the Makems." Adam paused . "Did you hear that?"

Hoss straightened up and listened. "No. I don't hear nothin'."

"I'm sure I did." His brother held up a hand. "There. Someone shouting. Hear it?"

This time he did, though the voice was far enough away he couldn't make out the words. "You figure that's one of the Makems?"

"Must be. I don't think Little Joe would be shouting." The black-haired man paused as the same thought occurred to him. He wouldn't be shouting unless someone had him cornered and he was screaming for mercy.

"Which direction you figure?"

Adam shook his head. "Hard to tell in the woods. Toward the stream, maybe?"

"Makes sense. Probably thinks if he can get across, he can get away. And there'd be help not too far away on the other side."

"I think it's the wisest, if not our only course. There's no tracking any of them. We'll just have to –" Adam stopped abruptly. A shot had been fired. It was followed by an excited chorus of voices.

"Sounds like they're closing in," Adam said between gritted teeth.

"I still cain't believe they'd hurt Joe. We ain't exactly been friends, but for gosh sake's all he did was dance with Nellie."

"Yes." Adam shifted his position. "But is that all they believe Joe did with her? Alvin Makem could have told them anything, maybe that Joe took advantage of Nellie. Nothing would rile a bunch of brothers up like that.

"It's funny, you know? Even though we don't know anything about Belle – even if she's telling the truth – I kind of feel that way about her."

The black-haired man nodded. "Me too."

"Adam?"

"What?"

"I think Belle likes you." At his brother's puzzled look he added with emphasis, "Really likes you."

"Well, now, that would fly in the face of her thinking we were siblings, wouldn't it?"

"It sure enough would."

Adam held his hand up again, calling for silence. Hoss heard it. Another shot.

"Definitely down by the river. Come on, Hoss. We need to reach him before the Makems do, and before he's forced into the stream. The water's not terribly deep but with the recent rains, it's running fast."

"Joe'd do okay. He swims like a fish."

Adam nodded. "Yes, you're right. So long as he enters it conscious."

Hoss paled. Men drowned every day.

"I know," his brother said, translating his look. "It would be the perfect murder, wouldn't it?"

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Ben Cartwright halted with his hand to the door handle and looked back at Belle. She was pale and trembling. She'd told him something of her story, but he could sense there was more – something she was either afraid to name.

Or ashamed to name.

"You go upstairs," he said quietly. "Don't come down until I call you."

The lovely brunette nodded and then bolted up the stairs.

Ben opened the door and stepped outside. "Hello," he said, "its late, friend. Did you need assistance?"

"Mister Cartwright? Benjamin Cartwright?"

"Yes."

The man left the side of his rig. Crossing over to him, he held out a gloved hand. "Permit me to introduce myself. Jarvis Barrot at your service."

Ben looked him up and down. "And are you?" he asked.

The man was a little thrown off. "Am I what?"

"Really 'at my service', or is that just the polite thing to say?"

He saw the man's estimation of him go up a notch. A slightly wary look entered his pale gray eyes. "As a matter of fact, Mister Cartwright, I do mean it. Pardon the latest of the hour, but I only have one more day in Virginia City and I wanted to offer you a proposition. I am a wholesale importer of goods and am looking to establish myself in the West." Jarvis looked around. "An account with the Ponderosa would do much to establish my business as legitimate."

Ben pursed his lips and nodded. "Well, I can't say as I would or would not be interested right now, Mister Barrot. I was just heading out."

Jarvis eyes traveled the length of his frame. "If you don't mind my saying so, you look like a man who only now left the road."

Ben glanced down. He was covered with trail dust and horse hair. He probably smelled like horse too. "Yes, I just arrived, but I am also going back out. I have three sons. They're missing."

"All three of them?" The man seemed genuinely surprised.

"One was in a little trouble. His brothers went to find him. Now it seems I must find them all." He started to turn. "Now, if you will excuse me I need to gather up a few supplies before I go."

"Perhaps later then? After you locate your sons? I'm staying at the hotel in Virginia City. Shall we say lunch tomorrow and, if not, dinner?"

Ben turned back. "You're very persistent, Mister Barrot."

The man's smile was self-deprecating – and a little bit false. "I'm a salesman, Mister Cartwright. What else would you expect?"

"Oh, I don't know – courtesy? "

Jarvis laughed. "Point taken." He reached up and tipped his expensive hat. "Until later then."

Ben said nothing but watched him go, and then reentered the house. He crossed to the bottom of the stairs and shouted, "Belle!"

She appeared momentarily. "Is he gone?"

"I think so, though he could double back." Ben watched her descend the two final steps before speaking. "I changed my mind. I think you should come with me, at least as far as Virginia City."

She shook her head. "I don't want to be there alone."

"You won't be. I have a lady friend I'm thinking of. I'm sure she'll entertain you for the day. I'm not comfortable with you being out here with no one but Hop Sing to protect you."

"He wields a pretty mean knife," Belle said with a little smile.

Ben laughed. "That he does." He took his hand and squeezed it. "Since it seems you and Hop Sing are getting along now, would you mind going into the kitchen and asking him to pack food for me for a two day journey?"

"Do you really think it will take two days to find your sons?"

"It could, but more than that I am thinking of Joseph. He woke late yesterday morning and went to town with nothing but his breakfast in his stomach. He would have gone to Makems before or around lunch time. It may be he's had no food for over half a day."

"I see. You think of everything, don't you, Benjamin?"

No, not everything. If he thought of everything none of them would have been in this pickle in the first place.

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This was it. Joe's back was to the water and the Makem brothers were advancing, guns drawn. Their ghostly forms moved toward him, illuminated by the lanterns they held. He'd stopped just short of the water. He meant to plead with them one final time, to try to make them see reason and forget all about whatever it was they were thinking of doing. Rob and Ned were on opposite sides of the advancing line. Moore and Sam came next, and Jimmy was the man in the middle.

Joe held up his hands. He'd try his 'friend' first. "Hey, Jimmy. What do you think you're doing?" His old school mate's face was masked in shadow. He couldn't tell what he was thinking. "It's me. Joe."

"Jimmy ain't gonna answer you, Cartwright. He's with us." Robert Makem stepped forward. His gun was aimed directly at him. "You've ruined our little sister and you're gonna pay."

"Ruined? What do you mean, ruined?" Joe shifted back. He felt the dirt crumble under his feet on the bank and could hear the trickle of stones striking the shore some five or six feet below. "I took Nellie dancing, that's all."

"That ain't all, Cartwright," a deep gruff voice pronounced. Joe turned to find Alvin Makem emerging from the trees to his left. "We know what you did. Nellie told us."

"Nellie told you?" Joe's voice had gone up in pitch. "Well, if she told you we did anything but dance, then she's –"

"Don't compound the sin by lying, boy," Alvin warned. "You're about to meet your maker. You want a clean conscience to do that, don't you?"

"Mister Makem, I swear..."

"You can swear till your blue, boy,. It won't make no nevermind. Either you or Nellie is a liar, and I'm banking on my girl being the one who's telling the truth." Alvin moved forward, lifting the barrel of his gun and sighting along it. "Say your prayers, boy..."

Without warning, a voice cut through the dark night. "Joe? Joe, can you hear me? It's Adam. Joe?!"

Relief flooded through him, making him somewhat giddy. Adam. Adam was here to save him. As he opened his mouth to reply, Joe turned toward Alvin Makem. He saw the blow coming a split second before it landed. Alvin had flipped his rifle and was swinging the gun butt-end toward his head with brutal force. Joe threw his arm up, deflecting it a bit. After striking his left wrist, the metal and wood club continued on, taking him in the forehead, knocking him back and then over the edge so he dropped like a stone to the pebbled shore some six feet below.

Joe opened his eyes once to find the world was spinning out of control, and then he closed them and sunk into a darkness deeper than that which cloaked the shore and his battered form.

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Chapter Six

Adam and Hoss emerged from the trees a few minutes later to find the Makem boys and their pa sitting pretty beneath the stars, warming their hands around a small campfire. Alvin Makem rose and came to meet them. His expression was unreadable.

"Hoss. Adam," Makem said in greeting.

"Where's our brother?" Hoss demanded. "What've you done with Little Joe."

"I ain't done nothing. I told you. I ain't seen your brother."

Hoss was riled. He started forward. Adam held him back with a hand to his chest.

"Then, may I ask, what you are doing with Little Joe's horse? I saw you leading Cochise into the trees not twenty minutes ago."

Makem didn't skip a beat. "Been spying on me, eh?"

Adam drew a deep breath. "Yes, if you must know, I have been spying on you. I believe you mean to do my brother harm."

Alvin nodded toward the shelter by the river. "The horse's in there. It wandered into our yard. I figured Joe was in this area after all and brought the boys out to look for him. There's a passel of things can happen to a man alone in the woods after dark."

"And you expect me to believe that?" Adam asked, his tone skeptical.

"Don't matter one way or the other to me," Alvin spit out tobacco juice. "Might to your brother."

Adam exchanged glances with Hoss. It was a signal for him to take over. Sometimes the big man had a better way with people than he did. Hoss certainly had more patience.

"Alvin, you seen any tracks that might indicate Joe was in this part of the wood?"

"Nah. Too dark. That's why we parked here. Ain't no point in lookin' until mornin'."

The big man turned toward him. "You think Cochise might be able to nose him out, Adam?"

The man in black shrugged. "It's worth a try. You know what they say about a boy and his horse..."

"The Paint's in the lean-to over there. Jimmy?"

The youngest son, the one who had been friends with Joe, rose to his feet. "Yes, Pa?"

"You go get these two boys their brother's horse."

Adam waited until Jimmy had returned and placed Cochise's reins in Hoss's hand before turning back to Alvin Makem and saying, "I want to make things clear between us, Alvin. I don't for one minute believe Cochise just happened on your property and you just happened to head out looking for Joe. I believe you were tracking my brother with the intent to do him harm, and I am here to tell you that if you hurt Joe, it will be me you answer to." Adam's jaw grew tight as he considered this man who thought six to one were fair odds. "I will come here and shoot you down, and think nothing more of it than if I was putting down a rabid dog."

Adam heard Makem's sons stir and rise from where they sat.

"The same thing goes for all of you," Hoss added, his tone deadly serious. "Only this time the odds will be better – it won't be only Adam, but me and my pa. From my perspective, six to three is right fair."

"Don't you threaten me," Alvin growled.

Adam snorted. "We just did. Now, get out of my way. Hoss and I are going to keep looking for Joe."

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Alvin Makem watched the two Cartwright boys disappear into the trees. Then he turned to his middle son. "Moore, you get down that hill and find out if that boy is alive or drowned."

"Yes, sir."

The older man watched his son cross to the bank and then cautiously work his way down in the dark. Several minutes passed and then finally Moore called out. "He ain't here, Pa!"

Alvin walked over to the bank. "What do you mean, 'He ain't here'?"

"Just what I said Pa. Joe must have fallen in the water and been taken away. I found his hat, but nothing else."

Alvin chewed on that for a moment and then spit out a heartfelt, "Damn!" He drew a breath and let it out slowly and then said, "Come on back up here, boy, and bring that hat."

Moore handed it to him once he reached the top. The hat was black with gray trim, and small. It was Cartwright's all right.

"You think Joe's dead, Pa?"

Alvin sensed both fear and shame in his boy's tone.

"If there's any justice, he sure as Hell is," Alvin growled.

"Pa..."

"What?" he snapped.

"Are you sure Nellie was telling the truth? You know how she can be. If'n she was sore at Joe, she might'a made that story up –"

The crack of his hand on his son's cheek resounded through the woods. "You callin' your sister a liar?"

Moore remained quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Yeah, Pa. I am."

Alvin brought his gun up. The barrel rested under his son's chin. "I should –"

"What Pa? Kill me like you did Little Joe? What's wrong with you? Ever since Ma died –"

"Don't you bring your Ma into this, boy!"

"Why not? Pa, you know you were killing Ma slowly, keeping her caged up here, never letting her go to town – just like you're doing with Nellie now."

"This world ain't safe boy!"

Moore's eyes flicked to the barrel of the gun that was still pressed up under his chin. "It's safer than being here with you. Either lower your gun, Pa, or shoot me. I don't really care which one."

Alvin's eyes flicked to the campfire around which his other sons sat. "Your brothers think the same thing?"

"Only Jimmy. You got the others hoodwinked, Pa. They think Joe defiled Nellie and they're glad you made him pay." Moore paused. "You didn't make Little Joe pay, Pa. You murdered him."

"You shut your mouth, boy," Alvin said, lowering the rifle. "I've had enough of your backtalk."

The young man stared at his father. "You've had all of it you're gonna get, Pa. You stay here and keep looking for the man you murdered. In the morning, I'm packing my things and going somewhere that isn't here."

As Moore moved away, his father shouted after him. "You'll change your mind by morning. You mark my word, boy."

Just before he entered the trees, Moore swung back. "I ain't a 'boy' anymore, Pa. What you did here just made me a man." With that, Moore faded into the trees.

Alvin felt another form close to his. He turned to find his son, Rob, watching. "He don't understand, Pa, how them Cartwrights think they can just take what they want." His oldest snorted. "We just sent them a message they ain't ever gonna forget."

"Yeah," Alvin agreed as he hefted his rifle. "Now, come on. We got us a body to find."

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Pain exploded in Joe Cartwright's head the moment he opened his eyes. The world around him was black with the single exception of a star winking overhead in a clear sky. He shifted and moaned, and then moaned again as he balanced on one elbow and attempted to rise. Just working his way into a seated position from which to make the attempt made his head spin. Bracing his back on a tree trunk he looked at the Little River running beside him.

He was lucky when he struck the bank that he didn't roll into its fast running waters.

Joe didn't remember much as he'd come down hard on a stone, striking his head, and driving consciousness away. After waking up he'd felt everything and didn't think anything was broken, but he was stoved-up and he'd done something to his left leg. He doubted it would bear his weight very well. Shifting, he felt the ground around him for a suitable branch to use to make a splint. The night was so dark he couldn't see to find what he needed. Joe's gaze went to the bank that loomed above him. He had crawled using his hands and good knee some twenty or thirty feet down from where he had fallen and taken refuge in the tall grasses that lined the stream. A short time before one of the Makems come down to look for him. The only reason he knew was because the light of a lantern had illuminated the man as he descended. Alvin and his boys knew he was alive now and that meant the chase was on.

He had to move – and fast.

As that thought occurred, Joe's hand landed on a sturdy branch. He hesitated to snap it, for fear of the noise it would make, but it was too long to use otherwise. Joe held still for a moment, listening. When he was sure the Makem's' voices were some ways away, he positioned the branch against his good foot and applied pressured, snapping it in two. Then he listened again. When he heard nothing, he laid the branch parts to either side of his wounded leg. Working the tail of his light gray shirt out of his black trousers, he tore strips from it and tied them around both the branches and his leg. After finishing the splint, he used his hand to work his way up the tree and then stood and put his weight on his leg.

The pain wasn't quite as bad as being shot, but it wasn't much better.

Joe stood there, contemplating his next move. He really needed to get to the other side of the stream. Jim Phillips cabin was there, within two miles. His Pa had helped Jim keep his place when a sickness had laid the other man low and he'd been unable to work. All four of them had gone there to do chores to help his wife, Liz. Joe was sure Jim would help him now.

If he could just get to him.

Suddenly, he remembered the shack the Makems kept near the water's edge. Jimmy and he had often used the raft Jim's father kept tethered there. It might surprise Alvin and his sons if, instead of running, he circled back and took the raft. They'd assume he'd be making for the Ponderosa and not going in the opposite direction. If he could get on the raft and use it to cross the rushing stream, then he'd be home free.

Home.

Free.

Fighting back tears, Joe began the slow walk along the lower bank to where he knew the shack and raft lay.

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Early the next morning Ben Cartwright stepped out of Anne Bannington's home and closed the door behind him. Anne and her husband had been settlers in the area before moving to the city. She'd known Marie and liked her and he knew she would do anything for him if it meant he was free to go find Marie's son. He'd left Belle in her care and felt good about it. It would also be good for the young lady to spend some time with womenfolk. He'd had a word with Anne, who would be about Belle's mother's age, and asked her – in a gentle way – to see if she could get any more information out of the mysterious young lady. He'd already picked up the wire from Dayton and it seemed, so far as what she knew, that Belle was telling the truth. Still, whether or not he was related to her, the young woman was now his responsibility and in order to protect her he needed to understand just what she needed protection from.

Or who.

As he stepped into the street Deputy Clem was crossing it. It appeared he wanted to talk to him.

"Clem," Ben said as they came abreast one another. "What can I do to help you?"

The deputy indicated the wagon sitting outside of the mercantile. "That yours, Ben?"

He nodded. "Yes, it is."

"It's been there since yesterday morning." Clem shoved his hat back. "Is something wrong, Ben?"

Ben pursed his lips, calculating just how much to say. "Joe rode off on a errand and didn't come back. Adam and Hoss went to look for him." He paused. "If the wagon's in the way, Clem, I'll..."

"No. No, it's fine. Did the boys find Joe?"

"I wouldn't know. It's been nearly a day since I saw hide or hair of any of them."

Clem seemed to think a moment. "You got a minute, Ben?"

"Maybe a minute. I need to hit the trail. Why?"

The deputy indicated the jail with a nod of his head. "I think there's someone you should talk to. Came in this morning and turned himself in."

Ben's dark brows shot toward his hairline. "Who?"

"Moore Makem."

"Moore?" That was Alvin's middle son. "Turned himself in, you say? For what?"

Clem's mouth was a thin line.

"The murder of Little Joe."

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Ben watched Clem return to the main room of the jail. Then he turned back and looked at the young man who stood before him, his hands clenching the iron bars of his jail cell. Moore Makem was a fine looking lad. He had his mother's black hair and favored her in every way more than his father. Alvin's wife had always had a smile on her face and been a kind soul. Alvin Makem had a hang-dog look. He cut furrows deep in the field of his life, even when it meant plowing others under to get what he wanted.

Ben waited for Moore's blue eyes to meet his and then he asked. "What is this about Little Joe?"

The young man hung his head. He muttered something that Ben couldn't understand.

"You'll have to speak up, son. I can't hear you."

The young man sighed. "I said Little Joe is dead."

Panic rose in him. He meant to beat it down with facts. "What makes you think Joe's...dead?"

"I don't think, Mister Cartwright, I know."

"How do you know?"

"I was there!" Moore's eyes brimmed with tears. "Joe didn't stand a chance. There was six of us and only one of him!"

"Why would you want to harm Joseph?" Ben asked, still not believing it.

"Nellie lied about what happened the other day. She told Pa Joe took her in that place on purpose and took her upstairs to...well...you know what happens upstairs at the Club."

"My son would never take advantage of a woman."

Moore looked pained. "I know that, Mister Cartwright. But Pa, well, he ain't been himself since Ma died. Once he gets his mind set on something there's no changing it, especially if it has to do with Nellie." The young man paused. "I sure am sorry. I should of done something to stop it."

"What happened? Did you see it ? Was Joseph shot?"

"No, sir, but not for lack of trying. Pa had us hunt him down, circle him, and then move in for the kill. We was down by the river. Before Pa could shoot, Little Joe lost his balance and fell into the water." The boy winced. "He's drowned, Mister Cartwright. Drowned dead."

"Did you find...a body?"

The first ray of hope came when Alvin's middle boy shook his head. "No, sir. I went down the bank to look for him. I found his hat, but nothing else. Joe must've hit the water and been carried away."

Ben drew a breath and held it. The boy's guilt stopped him from seeing any other option. If there had been no body then that meant most likely Joseph had gotten away.

Stepping closer, Ben steadied himself with a hand on the cell door. "Tell me, Moore, did you happen to run into Adam or Hoss?"

"They was there. They came up just after Little Joe fell. My Pa didn't tell them nothing, just let 'em think we hadn't seen him at all."

"And Hoss and Adam believed that?" he asked, not believing it himself.

"I don't think so. They took Little Joe's horse and set off looking for him." Moore paused. "But they ain't gonna find anything. That's why I came into town and turned myself in." The young man looked to the window. "Clem says he's gonna organize a party and go out and arrest all of the rest of my kin."

"Yes, he'd have to do that. Let's just hope Alvin is wise enough not to resist arrest. Moore..."

"Sir?"

"I want you to understand that I respect what you have done. It's not easy to admit to a mistake and to face a possible murder charge." His look stopped the young man from replying. "I also want you to know that I don't for one minute believe you , your brothers, or your father have killed Little Joe. That boy's strong. Most likely he awoke on the bank and dragged himself away and out of view."

Hope entered the young man's eyes. "You really think so?"

Ben patted his hand. "I really do. You take care of yourself, son. When I find Joe, I'll come back and make certain you're released."

Moore's voice cracked as he said, "Thank you, sir."

The older man nodded and then returned to the main room of the jail. Clem was there with a half-dozen other men. "What are you planning on doing, Clem?" Ben asked.

"Doing? Going out to catch those killers."

"Did you question the boy, Clem?" As the deputy nodded, Ben finished, "From what he said he didn't see anything except Joe falling off the bank and, maybe, into the river. There's no proof my son is dead."

Clem shook his head. "There's no proof Joe's alive either, Ben."

"I know. Clem, my other sons are out there searching for their brother. I don't want them to get killed in the crossfire. Can you give me an hour or two to find them?"

The deputy hesitated. "I don't know, Ben. My duty –"

"Is to protect the citizenry of this town. Clem, this situation has the potential to turn into a powder keg. Let the boys and me see if we can find Joe. If we can – and he's alive – then you'll be looking for men who made a mistake and not murderers. Go now and you'll be forced to shoot if the Makems take a stand." He paused for emphasis. "Neighbors killing neighbors, Clem, that's not what this city is about."

Clem looked at the men he had just deputized. For the most part, they were mumbling and nodding their heads. "All right, Ben, we'll wait until noon, but I can't promise we'll wait any longer."

Ben clapped his hand on the deputy's shoulder. "Thank you, Clem. You won't regret it."

Clem's gaze went from him to the young man standing in the cell, still leaning on the bars.

"I certainly hope not."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Joe had managed to find the raft. It took some work to free it and he was exhausted by the time he had it done, but he launched it into the stream and was floating now along with the fast-running water, heading for the opposite shore. As he floated he could hear the Makems' voices. They were on the river bank. He could see the reflection of their lantern's light on its black surface and knew they were scouring the ground, looking for a trace of him. He had pulled his gray jacket close and buttoned it, hiding the lighter gray shirt beneath so the light would have nothing to reflect off of. Then he had laid low and let the raft drift. He figured he was about a half-mile downstream. He'd make the attempt to land soon. From what he remembered, he should be about parallel to the Phillips' place. Once up the bank he would have to cross open fields, but – hopefully – the Makems would still be on the opposite side of the water and pose no threat.

He was really hunger and really tired and really ready to be home.

About five minutes later Joe stirred again and reached for the pole he had found with the raft. Using it as a crutch, he rose to his feet and began to alter the raft's path, forcing it closer to the shore. Just as he reached it and hopped onto the bank, a shot rang out. The bullet whizzed over his head, striking a nearby rock. Dropping the pole, Joe bolted into the trees, seeking shelter.

They'd seen him!

Moving as quickly as he was able, Joe began to work his way up the bank. As he did another shot flew over head. 'Damn!' he thought. He didn't understand how the Makems had gotten on the other side of the stream so quickly when he had their only raft. Out of breath and nearly out of strength, Joe clawed his way up the bank and emerged into a field of wheat. The shafts of the wheat reached to his knees and were visible as far as the eye could see. The sun was rising. It was a new day.

He only hoped he lived to see it through.

Knowing it would be only a matter of time before the Makems caught up with him, Joe started to make his way across the field as quickly as he could, dragging his injured leg. He made it about twenty feet before a rope dropped over his shoulders and he felt it jolt and draw him back. Losing his footing, he fell to the ground and lay there, panting. Seconds later a pair of boots appeared.

Fringed leather boots.

Joe looked up, wondering what in all of God's green earth he had done to deserve this.

He'd found the band of renegade Indians.