THREE

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Joe woke slowly and rolled over. Rising, he worked out the kinks and then went to relieve himself. When he came back, he glanced at Hoss – who was sawing logs to beat any band – and then crossed over to the remnants of their campfire and began to rekindle it. The dawn had broken. In fact, the sun was cresting above the trees. It surprised him that he had awakened before his brother. Usually it took Hoss and Adam combined – with maybe Hop Sing thrown in – to wake him and get him moving. Of course, that was when he'd slept soundly.

He'd done anything but that last night.

After gathering their tools they'd headed for home but quickly realized that – with the time they'd lost talking to the two strangers – they'd never make it before nightfall. So instead, they made camp and bedded down. It was kind of fun. He and Hoss didn't get a chance to camp out much like they had when they were kids, and the two of them had sat there sippin' coffee and tradin' ghost stories until half the night was gone. After finishin' one final particularly chilling tale about a man haunted by ghosts in his sleep, his giant of a brother had announced he was done in. Hoss muttered 'goodnight', slipped under his blanket, and was snorin' in less than a minute. Unable to do the same, Joe sat for some time, thinkin' about everything under the sun – including that chilling tale. Then at last, unable to keep his eyes open, he too laid out his bedroll and crawled under the single cover he'd brought and fell asleep.

That was when the real nightmare began.

In his dream he'd been back home in the stable searchin' for a fork to pitch some hay. He'd just rounded the last of the stalls when something hit him so hard on the head he blacked out for a minute or two. When he came to he heard Adam callin' him. He tried to answer but before he could, a man's hand clamped over his nose and mouth, cuttin' off his air so he blacked out again. When he woke up the second time he was in a dark, foul-smelling place, laying on a cot and burning up with fever. Someone leaned over him and called his name, just like Adam had. He tried to answer whoever it was, but the hand returned, taking hold of his throat and squeezin' hard this time. As he fought to breathe, he looked up into a pair of hard unfeeling eyes. Black eyes that belonged to a man. A big Chinese man.

The stranger in the city slicker's suit.

He'd been there, that Chinese man, at The Delectable Dragon in Vallejo, California. He remembered him now, standing in the corner watching – always watching. Of course it hadn't been that man who had kidnapped him, but he'd sure enough stood by when he knew full well somethin' was funny with Wade Bosh. Maybe that was why seeing him had scared him so. He'd tried his damnedest to forget everything Bosh had done to him and well, seein' that stranger had brought it all back.

Joe shook himself and rose to his feet. He glanced at his sleeping brother again. In his nightmare, as that hand had covered his mouth cutting off his air, he had screamed and screamed and screamed. Funny that in the real world he hadn't made a sound.

Maybe all that screaming had been in his soul.

Catching his and his brother's canteens off the ground, Joe headed for the river that ran swiftly along the north side of their camp in order to refill them. He supposed he should have awakened Hoss and told him where he was going, but somehow – on Ponderosa land – he always felt safe. It was as if, no matter how far he went, so long as he was within the boundaries of his Pa's empire, the older man was watching over him. Joe snorted as he removed the cap of one of the canteens. "Yeah, you're really grown up, Cartwright." He had to admit, his pa was the bedrock of his world. Everything else was just topsoil. He didn't know what he'd do without his pa.

Probably curl up and die, that's what.

Joe filled both his and Hoss' canteens and then left them lying on the bank as he walked over to a flat rock that jutted out over the river. With care, he climbed onto it and shinnied out until he sat on its edge. Lifting one leg, he circled it with his arms and sat there watching the sun claim the sky. He knew there were other places in the world; lands that had their own kind of beauty that was different from the Ponderosa. Brother Adam longed to see them and sometimes, well, sometimes he thought maybe he wanted to see them too. There were times when he thought about leavin' his father's land and makin' his own way in the world, but each time he did, he'd come up against somethin' like this sunrise and – for the life of him – he couldn't imagine how he'd ever go. As streaks of a vivid pink-orange light punctured the space between the pine trees, chasing away what was left of the night's shadows, Joe yawned. He sure was tired. Hoss was probably awake by now, he told himself. After he tended the fire and rustled up some grub, middle brother would realize he was missing and come lookin' for him. There couldn't be any harm in layin' back and closin' his eyes and restin' a spell.

Now, could there?

As Joe closed his eyes, he had a vision. He remembered a day, just like this one, back some two years before. He and Tory Jennings had met early in the morning when they should have been at school, and had sat hand in hand on a flat stone like this one, watching the sunrise. When he asked if her pa would get angry if he found out, Tory told him there wasn't anything worry about. Even if Mister Jennings did, he wouldn't care.

'I've got him wrapped around my little finger', she said.

He'd been thirteen at the time and the taste of her lips had been just about the sweetest thing he'd ever known. It was just before she left Eagle Station and went East. They'd promised each other that day that they'd pick up where they'd left off when she got back. He'd been happy to see her when she did and near busted with pride when she accepted his invitation to the spring dance. When she suggested they leave the dance and go to the barn, well, like any feller he'd been mighty excited. But this time Tory didn't just want a kiss. She'd wanted somethin' from him he just wasn't ready to give. Not long before that dance his pa'd sat him down and told him about men and women. He told him how he should respect them, but how he should also respect himself enough to wait until he found a woman he loved. He liked Tory. She was pretty and smart and – as Adam would say – 'high-spirited' like him. But he didn't think he loved her. When he thought of love, he thought of his mama and his pa, and though he couldn't remember much, there was somethin' they'd had that was missing with Tory. Pa said love was about sacrifice – giving and not getting.

That was for sure something Tory Jennings didn't know nothing about.

Joe was still layin' there an hour later, thinking about his mama and how much he missed her, when he heard a noise. It could have been an animal creeping up on him – maybe a wolf or coyote – but he didn't think so. More likely it was Hoss. His brother would think it was mighty funny to come up on him unawares and scare the livin' daylights out of him. Deciding it was Hoss, Joe clamped his eyes shut and pretended to sleep. He listened as the footsteps came closer and closer and readied himself to spring up and give his brother one heck of a surprise.

Problem was, when Joe did spring up, it was him that got the shock of his life.

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Hoss reined in Chubb and looked ahead; then glanced back in the direction of their campsite. He sure wished he could of talked to Little Joe before he took off. Trouble was, he'd heard somethin' that had made it impossible for him to stay put 'til Joe came back from wherever he'd gone.

A lady cryin'.

The sound had come from the direction he'd sent them two Chinese fellers the night before. He didn't think it had to do with them since they didn't have no woman with them, but then again, it might. She could have been there and stayed hidden while they talked. Chinese ladies were awful shy for the most part. Either way he didn't like the look of them two. Hop Sing would of said the older one had 'secrets behind his eyes', and the younger one? Whew, doggie! He had the look of one of them pugilists that came to Eagle Station and put on exhibitions from time to time.

Pa'd said a man like that oughta be made to declare his fists as weapons.

As he leaned on his saddle horn, Hoss listened. It was early morning and just about every creature in the trees was chatterin'. The birds were the noisiest of all. The way they was squawkin' at one another, he knew somethin' was up. Might of been the lady. More likely, they was warnin' one another a storm was brewin'. The sky had grown dark in the last half-hour and the wind was pickin' up. He kicked himself for takin' up what might prove to be a wild goose chase. He should of ignored it and gone lookin' for his little brother instead. If he had, they'd be headed home now.

Leaning down, he patted the side of his horse's neck. "You hear anythin' other than them birds, Chubby?"

Ol' Chubb snorted and stamped. Since he knew horse talk, he could interpret that.

"Yeah, you're right. Must of been hearin' things." As he lifted the reins, the big man said, "Let's you and me get back to camp. I sure hope little brother's there and he's got breakfast cookin'. I could just about eat me a –"

It took a second for the sound to die away. Whoever that lady was, she weren't cryin' this time.

She was screamin'.

Dismounting, Hoss ground-tied his mount and began to run. The scream had come from somewhere near the river. As he tore through the underbrush, he wondered what a woman would be doin' out here on Ponderosa land – supposin' she weren't with those two Chinese men. He had his answer a moment later when a slender female form bolted out of the trees and straight into him. She glanced up at him, sobbed, and then buried her head in his shirt before he could get a good look at her.

As Hoss put an arm around her tremblin' shoulders, he gave her a quick once over. The girl – she weren't nowhere near bein' a woman – was wearin' mighty fine clothes, though they was ripped and soiled like she'd taken a spill. He held her for a moment and then gently shifted back. The move didn't dislodge her desperate grip, but it gave him enough room to see what was goin' on.

It was Little Joe's one-time filly. Tory Jennings.

"Tory! What're you doin' out here all on your lonesome?" he asked.

The girl was tremblin' so hard and breathin' so rapid it was all she could do to get out the words. "He...brought me...out here. He said we'd...spoon. Then he...tried to...to..." Tory gasped and buried her head in the folds of his shirt again. "Oh, Hoss, how could I be so stupid!"

Hoss considered what he was seein'. The worst damage to Tory's clothes was around the neckline. The bodice of her frilly dress was all tored up on one side and hangin' down so's her underpinnin's were showin'. The big man's clear blue eyes went to Tory's skirts.

They was all tored up too.

"Who, Tory? Who are you talkin' about?" he demanded, though he had a fair idea of who it was. He'd bet good money the little gal had tried her tricks one too many times and the feller she was with had called her bluff. "Was it Butch?"

He felt her nod. "He... Oh, Hoss, he..." She sniffed and then looked right up at him. "I told him he was no gentleman like Little Joe."

Hoss had to smile at that – Joe, bein' a gentleman. He'd have to remember to tell Pa what she said.

"When I asked Little Joe to...well..." She sucked in air and let it out quickly. "When we were...spoonin'...he never tried to..." Her cheeks blushed red as a berry. "He wouldn't even when I wanted to..."

Little brother was just too dang cute. They all knew he was like honey to a bear when it came to all the little fillies at school goin' after him.

Maybe it would be right smart of Pa to keep the boy home.

Now that he thought he could get a straight answer out of her, Hoss asked Tory, "Where's Butch? He didn't just go and leave you alone out here in the wild, did he?"

Tory blanched. "Butch said he was going to go find Little Joe and make him pay."

"Now wait a gol-darn minute. Pay for what?" he asked..

Tory started trembling. Tears fell, carvin' paths through the dirt on her face. "Well... I might have told Butch that Little Joe and I had... Well, that we..."

Hoss didn't know which feelin' to act one – his outrage or the plain old terror.

"Butch headed back to the Ponderosa?" he asked hopefully.

Tory shook her head. "We came out early. We were heading for the rock by the river when we saw you and Little Joe camping and went the other way."

Every alarum bell in him was goin' off. "Tory. You don't mean to tell me that Butch knows where Joe is?"

She winced and then nodded.

Hoss caught her hand in his and started movin'. "My horse is back a ways. I want you to get on Chubb, Tory, and ride for the Ponderosa lickety-split."

"You don't think Butch will hurt Little Joe, do you?" she asked, breathless as she ran beside him.

Hoss looked toward the river.

"I don't think so, Tory," he replied, swallowing over his fear.

"I know'd it."

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Joe Cartwright wasn't usually one to try to talk his way out of a fight, but in the two years since Butch MacTavish had near killed him by butting into him and breaking his rib, the older boy had grown six inches to his two and put on near fifty pounds. Adam had a saying about 'discretion' bein' the better part of valor. It had taken him near a week to puzzle that one out, but in the end Joe understood it to mean that there were times a man should fight and other times he should just plain run.

Now was probably one of those times.

"I'm gonna kill you, Cartwright!" Butch roared.

He'd leapt up and off of the rock and had placed its bulk between them. While he'd been pretendin' to sleep, a gentle rain had begun to fall and they were both dancing on the muddy ground from side to side – him trying to keep out of Butch's reach and Butch trying to reach him.

"At least tell me what you're so all-fired sore about," Joe countered as he shoved a hank of rain-soaked curls out of his eyes. So far all Butch had said was that he was gonna kill him and tear his dead body from limb to limb and then feed it to the fishes for what he done. "If a man's gonna die, he's got a right to know."

"You ain't got a right to live!" the bully shot back.

Joe glanced over his shoulder. He was pretty much trapped – unless he wanted to take a swim. The fast-running river lay behind him and the flat rock in front of him. Butch was blockin' the only open side. Joe looked at his opponent, reassessing how many inches the other boy had grown.

Lands sake, he was big!

"I was gonna be the one," Butch snarled. "But no, rich, snot-nosed, spoiled, no-good Little Joe Cartwright – who has everythin' handed to him on a platter – had to get there before me." Butch made a fist and shook it. "I should of killed you two years back!"

Well, you came pretty close, Joe thought. He'd nearly died from the infection that came from that broken rib.

A moment later he asked, "The 'one' – what?"

"Don't you go playin' innocent with me, Cartwright!" Butch snarled as he snatched at him over the rock. "Tory told me everythin'!"

He'd almost got him. Dang, he had long arms too!

Joe's foot slipped as he evaded the other boy's reach. He overbalanced and nearly fell into the rushing river.

"Everything? What'd Tory tell you?"

Butch drew to an abrupt stop. He made a face. "That her and you...well, you know what."

Joe's mobile eyebrows did a flip beneath his hairline. "She what?"

The bully scowled. "I know you was out in the woods with her and that your brothers caught you buck-naked!"

"Yeah, I was, 'cause Tory stole my clothes!" he shot back, his temper rising at the injustice of the whole thing. A bully who was sore with him 'cause he got the girl and wanted to mash him to a pulp was one thing. Bein' accused of, well, what Butch was accusin' him of was another thing entirely!

That old discretion Adam talked about didn't count when a woman's reputation was on the line – even one like Tory.

"For gosh sakes, Butch, she had Nellie and that other girl with her! You can ask Hoss."

"Like your brother wouldn't lie for you," Butch sneered. "You Cartwrights, you stick together. Every one knows it." He made a disgusted face. "Ain't one of you worth the effort to spit on."

Now that really did it! First impugnin' – that was one of Adam's ten dollar words – a woman's honor and now insulting his family!

"You take that back!" Joe yelled.

"Yeah, you come and make me, Cartwright!" Butch raised his hands and wiggled his fingers. "Come on, lover boy. You take me on!"

Joe hesitated, hearin' his Pa's voice in his ear. "There is no insult, Joseph, that is worth a broken bone. Fighting never solved anything.'

It might not solve it, but it would dang sure make him feel better.

Spitting on his hands, Little Joe Cartwright rubbed them together.

Then he vaulted the rock and leapt into the air.

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Hoss cursed up one side and down the other as he made his way back to their campsite, usin' words that would have made his pa spit nails. Dang that little Jennings girl! He and Adam had seen what she was doin', workin' her way right up to gettin' into Little Joseph's pants. Joe'd let slip a couple of the tricks she'd tried with him. He and Adam had both given thanks in church the next Sunday for God stoppin' them from workin'. That little tart had done set her sights on his brother and she knew if she got Joseph to do what he weren't supposed to do, she'd have him right in her pocket. From where he was standin', seemed to him she'd let Butch bring her out here just so she could wind him up and turn him down and then set him on Little Joe to make him pay for refusin' her. 'Course Tory hadn't taken into account the fact that Butch might just try to take advantage of her.

Before killin' Little Joe.

As his feet hit the edge of the campsite, Hoss halted. He gulped in air and then shouted, "Joe! Little Joe!" As he waited, his mind raced. Where could the boy have gone? If it had been to relieve hisself, Joe would have been back fast as a deacon takin' up a collection. Hoss' keen blue eyes scanned the area, searching for a clue. Suddenly, he noted the missing canteens.

The river!

Taking off like a shot, he continued to yell. "Joe! Little Joe! You answer me, boy!

"Joe!"

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He wanted to answer Hoss, really he did, but it was a little hard with Butch's fingers pressing into his windpipe.

They were layin' on the riverbank. Butch had him by the neck and was banging his head on the ground. The bully was still shoutin', but the ringing in his ears was drowning out whatever he had to say. When his feet had hit that rock and he'd barreled into Butch, he'd had the upper hand. He'd knocked him right off of his feet. He'd learned a lot, wrasslin' with his bear-size middle brother, and for a while, he'd thought he could win. The trouble was, Hoss didn't fight dirty.

Butch did.

It had been the blow to his head with a handy branch that had turned the tide. With stars blockin' his view, he missed Butch's uppercut and only knew about it when bone met bone and his head snapped back. He lost all sense of where he was for a few seconds and when he came back to it, he found he wasn't where he'd been. Somehow the two of them were on the far side of the rock.

It was then he realized Butch had drug him to the bank of the river and meant to drown him.

He was smarter than a knuckle-brained idiot should be, that Butch. If it looked like he'd drowned, no one would suspect the bully had anythin' to do with it. All the bruises could be explained by his body bein' carried downstream. It was raining harder now. The river was rising higher. At the best of times it had a swift current.

At the worst, it charged like a herd of startled mustangs runnin' wild.

Joe blinked and struggled to speak as Butch applied more pressure to his throat, cuttin' off near all his air. Then, without warning, he let go. The release was as sudden as Joe's surprise. Both set his head to spinning.

Then he heard it – Hoss shouting.

His brother was close.

Butch stared down at him, his eyes wide and wild. In them Joe saw his death. If Hoss caught him doin' what he was doin', Butch would go to jail. He'd hurt other kids besides him before. The sheriff had warned his pa.

Joe felt his limp body lifted up from the wet ground. Butch drew him in until their faces almost touched. The bully's swam in front of his eyes, fadin' in and out.

"It's you or me, Cartwright!" he snarled.

Then Butch threw him in the river.

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Through the rain, Hoss caught a flash of something tan in color off to his left as he broke through the underbrush and reached the riverbank. He puzzled over it a moment and then turned toward the water. Moving forward, he halted to one side of a large boulder that leaned out over it and sucked in air, replenishing his near spent supply before callin' out.

"Joe! Little Joe! Boy! You answer me!"

He waited.

"Joe!"

Nothing.

Hoss glanced from side to side, but he saw no sign of Butch or his little brother. He knew they had to be here. He'd seen Joe's tracks leadin' this way, and the other, heavier boy's on top of them. He couldn't imagine why Little Joe wouldn't answer.

Unless, for some reason, he couldn't.

Dropping to the ground, Hoss began to search for signs of what had transpired on the bank. He found them quick enough and they told the story – Joe's muddy boot prints on the rock, Butch's prints driven into the ground where Joe tackled him, a body hittin' the ground hard and then bein' dragged toward the water, and then Butch's prints runnin' off in the same direction where he'd seen that tan blur.

All by their lonesome.

A pit opened in his stomach. For a moment the big man stood still, frozen by fear into inaction. Then he began to run along the river bank as terror took hold of his innards and twisted them hard.

"Joe! Little Joe! For God's sake, Joe, answer me!"

As the big man came to the bend in the river where the water grew more rapid and tumbled down a series of falls, he halted. He could see ahead for a good quarter-mile and there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Hoss had heard of a man's knees goin' to jelly. It were more than an expression to him now. The big man tumbled to the ground where he was and sat there with tears streamin' down his cheeks.

How was he gonna tell his pa that he let his little brother drown?

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Ben Cartwright gazed out the window. The storm was at its height. Lightning crashed, illuminating the gun-metal gray sky and thunder rumbled. It made him think of Joseph who, as a little boy, had been frightened of both. He'd awakened one stormy night to find Marie missing from their bed. Stepping into the hall, he'd made a beeline for their small son's room, certain that was where she had gone. He found them sitting in front of the window. Little Joe's curly head was resting on his mother's shoulder and she was speaking softly as her fingers played with his curls.

'...the king was very angry because his people were afraid, and so he banished the mother and the son from the earth and ordered them to live in the sky. Since then the son, Lightning, causes fire and destruction when he is angry, and his mother, Thunder, continues to scold him. That is why you can always see the bright lightning in the sky, petit Joseph, and hear the loud thunder right after that.'

'If you are the thunder, maman," Little Joe had asked, his voice slurring with approaching sleep. "Does that mean papa is the lightning?'

He could still hear Marie's bell-like laughter.She'd leaned down, kissed Joseph's head, and then – with a mischievous smile – replied, "Oui!'

Ben sucked in air as the vision dissipated.

God, how he missed her!

"You okay, Pa?"

He turned to find Adam watching him. For a moment, until he found his voice, the rancher simply nodded. Then he said, "I'm fine, son."

Adam's eyes went to the ferocious night unfolding outside the window. "Hoss and Little Joe will be fine too, Pa. You taught them well. They'll find a place to hole up and keep dry."

Ben nodded. "I know. Still, I hate to think of them out there in...this. It's been a while since we've seen a storm this fierce, and it came up so fast."

"That's spring for you," Adam said.

He hadn't seen his eldest boy all day and now that he had, his concern ratcheted up a notch. Before Adam could stop him, he had his hand on his forehead.

"You're still carrying a fever. Did you take the medicine I brought home?"

He shrugged. "Maybe it takes a few doses to kick in."

"Maybe," Ben replied, lifting his hand. "I still think you should get as much rest as you can."

"I just got up four hours ago, Pa," his son protested. Then he added with a grin, "What are you trying to do, turn me into Joe?"

The older man laughed. "Still, I think you should go lie down."

"You know what it says in Proverbs, Pa," Adam countered. 'The soul of the sluggard craves and gets nothing, while the soul of the diligent is richly supplied.' I think I'll just be diligent and do a little paperwork so the Ponderosa remains supplied."

The older man placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Just don't tire yourself out," he said as he turned toward the kitchen.

A knock on the door made them both jump.

Ben exchanged a look with Adam. He saw the same question in his son's eyes.

Who?

He opened it to find Dan Tolliver standing on the stoop. He was carrying someone whom he had bundled in a horse blanket.

"Found her out by the barn, Ben," the wrangler said, his voice and eyes troubled.

"Her?" Adam asked as he came up beside him.

"Come in, Dan. Take the young lady over to the fire." He could see whoever she was, her dress was torn. It was muddy and dripping water as well. "Hop Sing!" he bellowed.

The man from China appeared almost instantly. "What you yell about? Not have time get dinner on table for guests and self if you..." Hop Sing's voice trailed off when he saw what was going on. "Who little missy?" he asked as the girl's blonde head appeared.

Ben didn't know yet. Dan placed the girl on the sofa and backed away so he could move in. He took her slender hand in his as he shifted the sodden blanket away from her face.

"Good Lord, it's Tory!" he breathed.

Adam was at the settee in a heartbeat. "Tory Jennings? Joe's girl?"

Ben shot him a look that indicated that was not the way he wanted Tory identified. Taking both of the child's hands in his, he began to chafe them. "Toss another log on the fire, Adam. She's cold as ice. And Hop Sing, please, fix some tea. We need to warm her up inside."

"Ben?"

The rancher looked up. He had almost forgotten about Dan. He knew the wrangler well. They'd been friends for years. He surrendered his place to Adam and went over to his old friend. "Dan, what it is?"

"You said that's the Jennings girl?"

He nodded. "Yes, why?"

What he saw when he met the man's eyes made him stop. There was fear in them.

And compassion.

"I hate to tell you this, Ben. But she came in on Chubb."