Part 3

"What can I do for you?' the man asked. He pulled out a bandana from his back pocket and wiped his brow. He was a big man but he had a gentle face.

"My horse has come up lame; looks like a split hoof." Joe walked Cochise in a small circle.

"Oh, I see it now." The man lifted up Cochise's rear hoof and examined it. "It's split all right. Looks like you won't be riding him for a few days."

"I was surprised to see you out here," Joe said as the man stood up.

"I'm the only blacksmith and farrier for miles. I also repair farming equipment. Like now, I got a plowshare that a farmer from about five miles off brought in. I also have the only water stop for 'bout ten miles every direction. There's a trough out back and a pump to fill your canteen."

"Then I'm not only surprised," Joe said smiling, "I'm lucky. Can you do anything to fix his hoof so he can travel?"

"I could patch in some tar but it wouldn't last. He'll just go lame again, probably split more, and no telling where you'll be when that happens. The only thing is to give him some rest, let his hoof grow some and then have him trimmed and reshod."

Joe felt his anxiety rise again. At this moment, Adam could be dying of thirst and calling for him. "I've got to get moving. You got another horse I can use? I'll leave my pinto here and then on my return trip, I'll pick him up and give you back your horse."

"Sounds fair," the man said, patting Cochise's flank. "It just so happens that I bought a horse off two men three days ago but you're welcome to stay here overnight—I got a room in the back you can use. It's a long, hard ride to Salt Flats."

"I'm not going to Salt Flats; I'm traveling south."

"Oh, son, there's nothing south 'cept dust, heat and dry bones. But if you're determined, I'll go get the horse." The man ambled off and Joe started to take his saddlebags and scabbard off Cochise.

"Now you get a good rest, Cooch, and I'll pick you up on my way back." The horse nudged Joe and snuffled.

The man came back leading a sorrel gelding and it took a moment for Joe to recognize it. "Here he is. Nice lookin' horse, isn't he?"

"Where'd you get that horse?" Joe's throat was tight. Adam was without even his horse.

"What?" The man noticed the change in Joe; he became tense and an energy snapped through him.

"Where'd you get that horse?"

"Now just a minute…" but the man could say no more before Joe had grabbed him by his shirt front and stuck his gun in the man's face.

Joe was leading Cochise into the barn when he felt a strong hand grab him by the shirtfront and slam him against the wall of the barn so hard that his hat flew off and the breath was knocked from him. Then a gun barrel was stuck in his face.

"How does it feel, Joe? Huh? How's it feel to have one of your kin pull a gun on you? Now imagine that it's your own son." Adam's jaw was clenched and he pressed his left forearm against Joe's chest while he held his gun to Joe's face.

Joe looked into Adam's eyes; their faces were inches apart. Joe had seen Adam angry before but never like this and never before at him. Joe could smell the pistol that was so close to his nose—the acrid odor of the metal and the scent of the oil used to clean it.

"I…I…"

"C'mon, Joe," Adam said, pressing harder on Joe's chest with his forearm, "you should have something to say. After all, you pulled a gun on Pa—your own father—my father."

Joe began to cry. "I'm sorry, Adam. I don't know why I did it. I'm sorry." Adam released Joe and holstered his gun. Joe slid down the wall and began to sob.

"I'm going to tell you something, Joe. This is only the second time that I've pulled my gun with no intention of using it. The other time was the first time I pulled it and I was so scared and shaking so badly that I wouldn't have hit the target had I pulled the trigger. So, tell me, would you have shot Pa had he tried to stop you? After all, you were aimed and ready."

Joe had pulled a gun on their father when he had tried to prevent Joe from returning a Chinese boy's corpse to his father. The Cartwrights and Luther Bishop were in a property rights battle over lumber on the Truckee Strip and there had been death on both sides. The young Chinese cook, the son of the cook at the Bishop's main house, had been killed, murdered, by a Ponderosa ranch hand and Ben feared that retaliation would be taken by using Joe. That fear rose in his throat when Joe said that he was returning the boy's body to his father alone and Ben feared that someone would later ride up to the Ponderosa and unceremoniously dump Joe's body in the front yard.

"I can't let you do it, son," Ben had quietly said but Joe was determined and so he pulled his gun on his own father. And now he had to face Adam.

Joe wiped his nose on his sleeve, the tears still coming. "No, Adam—you know that. I wouldn't shoot Pa. I don't know why I pulled my gun. I guess I just wanted Pa to see how important it was to me and things were just so…" Joe drew his knees up and put his head on his folded arms and cried.

Adam went down on one knee and spoke quietly to Joe. "You need to make things right, Joe. Pa may have seemed calm, not upset by it, but he was and still is. He loves you, Joe, more than you could ever imagine…and this has broken his heart."

At that, Joe fell apart completely. All the way back after taking the body to the boy's distraught father, Joe though about what he had done and he couldn't believe it himself. He had been thinking about what he would say to his father, how he would apologize for holding a gun on his own father. Perhaps his father would throw him out, tell him to never return and then Joe didn't know what would happen to him. He still needed his family so much. And now Adam was here and Joe didn't know what to say or do. "Help me, Adam. Tell me what to say to Pa. I need you to tell me. I don't know the words."

Adam reached out and placed his hand on Joe's neck and gave it a slight shake. "Joe, tell him what you told me, say what you feel."

Joe looked up at his brother. "But I'm not sure what I feel, Adam. Everything is all mixed up."

Adam gave Joe a lop-sided grin. "Welcome to the world and all the rest of humanity. C'mon, I'll go with you. Pa's at his desk." Adam reached down and offered his hand to Joe. Joe took it and Adam raised him up. Joe wiped his face on his sleeve. "Ready?" Joe nodded. Adam put his arm around Joe's shoulders and the two walked into the house together.

"That's my brother's horse. Now where did you get it?" Joe shoved the gun under the man's throat, his finger on the trigger. "Don't pull your gun unless you're ready to use it," Adam had told him when he taught Joe how to shoot. And Joe was ready to use it, ready to blow this man's head off if he had done anything to Adam.

"I bought it from a man who came through—he and another man. He just said it was an extra horse and he wanted to sell it. Honest, son."

"You got a bill of sale?"

"Yeah. Right there in the strong box."

Joe pushed the man ahead. "Show it to me." Joe followed and the man found the paper and handed it to Joe. Joe read and it was a proper bill of sale and Joe didn't know if it was a relief or not, but it wasn't Adam who sold his horse—it was a stranger.

"Who's this Jim Gann?" Joe holstered his pistol.

"Don't know. Never saw him before."

"You said there were two men; who was the other?"

"Never seen him before either, but this Gann called him…Frank. That was it—Frank."

"Did they say where they were going?"

"Salt Flats."

"Well," Joe said, "looks like I'm going to Salt Flats after all." And Joe went about saddling up Adam's horse, desperately trying to tamp down his fear that Adam was dead. It couldn't be—not Adam.

TBC