SEVEN
Jude Miller waited beneath a tall pine tree by the side of the road into Virginia City. Behind him stood Pointer's Arch. He opened his watch and checked the time and then quickly closed it again. Bexley was supposed to have met him here at sundown.
He was late.
The blond man removed his hat, ran a hand through his hair, and then replaced it. He had stopped at the Ponderosa on the way back to town to check on Little Joe's condition. Everyone but the cook and the woman from the saloon were gone. Phoebe Howath met him at the door and told him Joe was sleeping. They'd talked briefly about how he was doing and that had been that.
Jude sighed and looked down the road toward Virginia City. Joe, it seemed, didn't remember anything of the attack, which seemed strange.
How could a man forget such a thing?
The blond man glanced at the towering structure behind him. If there had been any signs of what happened to Joe here at the Arch, they'd been trampled underfoot by the traffic on the road and by the frightened teenage couple he had just scared out of the dark heart of it. Jude took the toe of his boot and turned over a clod of dirt. Then he kicked it. If, eventually, Joe didn't remember what had happened, then, in spite of what the old adage said the crime would go unpunished. Even if Little Joe did remember say, one, two, or three months down the road, the fever for revenge would have broken by then. There'd be an investigation, nothing would be found, and the law would give up and that would be it.
After all, the Arch was the perfect place for such an act to be committed. Once inside its black belly a man disappeared, almost as if he didn't exist.
The sound of a horse's hooves caught Jude's attention. Drawing his gun, he stepped into the shadows and waited. It only took a moment to realize that it was Bexley Lanahan come at last.
Holstering his weapon, the thin blond mad stepped into the light. "Beck. Hey!"
Bexley's horse shied and whinnied. It bucked a few times and then calmed down. "Sheesh, Jude," the brown-haired man said as he dismounted, "what're you trying to do, get me killed?"
"There's a few wouldn't be so sorry if I did," he replied with a sincere sneer.
"I sure am glad you're my friend, Jude. I don't know what I'd do with you as an enemy." Bexley quickly came to his side. He looked around. "How come you wanted to meet here? Did you search the area again?"
The blond man nodded. "There's nothing."
"Hard to believe," his friend said. "I wonder if anyone will ever find out what happened to Joe?"
"Only if Joe remembers," Jude replied. "When I stopped at the ranch, I talked to Phoebe. She told me that Joe remembers being hit on the head and that's about it."
"Does the Doc think it's permanent? The memory loss, I mean?"
"No one knows. From what you said happened, there's nothing to remember, right? Joe was out the whole time?"
Bexley stared at him, his brow wrinkled. "Jude, is this all you brought me out here for? To go over this one more time?"
"I wanted to make sure the Cartwrights didn't miss anything, that's all." Jude nodded in the direction of the town. "Buy you a drink for your trouble?"
Bexley nodded. "That's more like it. Let's go."
As the other man mounted Jude did the same, putting his foot in the stirrup and slinging one leg up and over his horse's back.
"I think I'll check on Joe again tomorrow and maybe I can talk to him," the blond man said as he slapped the reins against the animal's flesh. "I'd like to hear what Joe has to say for myself.
"After all, all any of us are after is the truth."
When Adam reached the stable he found his father sitting on a bale of hay, waiting for him. The older man began to rise, but Adam waved him down and took a seat beside him instead. They sat for a moment or two in silence and then he broke it.
"Pa, what is this about?"
His father leaned forward and linked his hands between his knees. "It's about your brother, Adam." The older man turned his face toward him. "I want you to tell me what you think happened to Joe."
"We've been over this before. I don't know anything for certain other than what I've already told you."
"I hear you, Adam." His father straightened up. "I'm not asking what you know for certain. I'm asking you to tell me what you think."
The black-haired man rose and walked over to one of the stall walls and leaned on the top rail. "I'm not going to do that."
"Adam, stop trying to protect me."
That surprised him. "Protect you?" he asked, turning back. "What makes you think I am protecting you?"
His father rose and came to his side. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder and looked directly into his eyes. "Son, this is a burden too big for one man to bear. You need to share it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Adam countered, his tone sharp. Breaking away, he added, "I'm going back to the house."
He hadn't taken five steps when his father said softly, "Adam, I know."
The black-haired man halted, his back still to his father; his lithe form rigid. "Know what?"
"I know what you think happened to Joe, or at least what you fear happened to him." His father's voice shook as he concluded. "It's... It's my fear too."
Adam spun back, stunned. "How? How could you know?"
The silver-haired man approached him. "I wasn't born yesterday, son. I've seen a lot of the world as it is, and much of it is brutal. It will break a man or kill him before it gives him a chance or a helping hand. First, there were your brother's injuries." The older man faltered, as if seeing them again and imagining their cause. "Then, there was you."
"Me? I said nothing."
"You didn't have to." His father lifted his hand. "It's written in your face, Adam. In the way you hold your body. And in the tears you shed."
Adam shook his head. "I was careful. I didn't say anything about what I suspected."
"Yes, you were. It wasn't anything you said, son. It was what you didn't say."
"Good Lord, Pa! I didn't want you to have to carry this. There's no proof. It's bad enough I have to have the thoughts I have, but you – about your son?"
He could see the older man struggling to control his emotions. "My feelings for my son will never change, no matter what happens to him," he said quietly.
Adam shook his head. "I didn't mean that, Pa. You have to believe me, I didn't mean that! I just mean that now...every time you look at Joe, there will be – the Doc put it best – a stain on your soul."
"Like the one on yours? Or do you mean to say that darkness taints your brother now?"
Adam scowled. "What are you suggesting? That I think differently of Joe somehow because of what happened?"
"Don't you?"
"No!" He almost shouted. "I'm not putting this right. I wanted to spare you having to think..."
"Badly of Joe?" His father took a step toward him. "Adam, don't you see what you're doing? Your brother hasn't changed. He's still the same." The older man paused before going on. "You thought you were remaining quiet for him, for me, but it was really for you."
"Pa. No."
His father closed the gap between them. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is your brother. We have to decide what is best for him."
"Decide? What is there to decide?"
"When I was an Able Seaman," his father began, "an incident like this happened on the ship on which I served. It...destroyed the young man who was assaulted. He knew what had happened to him. Your brother doesn't. At least not yet."
"How?" Adam asked, his voice trembling with fear for his baby brother. "How did it destroy him?"
"The man's hatred of himself and his fear of what men would think drove him to drink. He turned away from everyone and everything and finally, he drank enough he died." His father drew a deep breath, held it, and let it go. "So you and I, Adam, we have a difficult choice to make. Do we tell Joe what we know?"
"But we don't know, Pa," he protested.
He had never seen his father look so sad, not even when Marie died.
"Don't we, son?"
Adam struggled against a blackness that rose in his soul, seeking to claim him. One thing their father had drilled into them was to have faith in mankind. Even though men were flawed and sinful – lazy, greedy, prideful and envious, filled with wrath and self-invested – there was still good in every one of them. If you looked hard enough, you would find it.
His father had been wrong.
"Adam?"
"Why, Pa? Why would we tell Joe if he doesn't remember? It will...crush him."
"Son, I know that's what you think, but there is nothing worse than active ignorance. What if Joe remembers in a week or even two, and then finds out that we didn't tell him what we knew? What could he think, but that we were ashamed?" The older man's voice cracked with the strain. "Ashamed of him."
"But why hurt him if it isn't necessary? Joe may never remember."
The older man shook his head. "I don't know, Adam. I really don't know the answer."
Adam nodded. "Thanks, Pa. Thanks for that."
His father went to the stable door and looked toward the house. "We don't have to make a decision tonight. Even if we did decide to tell Joe what we suspect, your brother isn't strong enough yet to hear it. We'll let it go for a while. Watch him. See if... Well, if his behavior changes."
"Maybe we should talk to Doc Martin. He seemed to know a lot about it."
The older man swung around to look at him. "Paul knows?"
"He's the one who told me," he replied.
"I see. Well, if anyone has to know, I would pick Paul. He's completely trustworthy." His father hesitated and then finished. "It's Providential Paul was the one to look after Joe."
"Providential?" Adam was astonished. "How can Providence have any part in this?" he asked as he moved to his father's side.
The silver-haired man looked at him. The determined look in his eyes would have been enough to move a mountain. "Everything, Adam, everything happens for a reason and is part of the Almighty's plan." His voice fell to a whisper. "Even this."
Adam remained silent for a moment. When he spoke, he heard the bitterness in his voice. "I don't know if I can believe in a God who could allow this, much less have it as part of His plan."
"Don't blaspheme, boy," his father warned.
Adam pushed past him. He halted in the yard where the brisk November wind struck him, tossing his hair and stinging his cheeks.
"Pa, you can't blaspheme if you don't believe, and right now, well, I'm not sure I do."
It was happening right before his eyes. Their family was being torn apart.
Ben watched his eldest boy mount his horse and ride off into the dark. Returning to the stable, he took a seat on the hay bale and remained there for some time, composing himself. Then, he went back to the house. After consulting with Hop Sing about the needs for the coming day, he looked in on Joe – only to find both his son and his caregiver fast asleep. Leaving them be, Ben went back to the living room and kindled a fire and then took a seat in the big blue chair beside it.
It was late and a chill had gripped the house nearly as cold as the one that gripped his heart.
He didn't know which son he was more worried about, Joe or Adam. If you had asked him three days before, he would have said there was nothing his eldest boy couldn't handle. Adam was the strong one, the one on which everyone else could depend – on which he depended. He realized now, since that rock-steady foundation was showing cracks, just how much he did. Adam was not only doubting himself, he was doubting God and that tore at a man's soul. Of course, he'd done it once too – after Elizabeth died – and it was Adam who bore the scars of his rage against the Divine. He'd found out then, as had many men before him, that anger at God was misplaced. It was really anger against self. It had taken Inger to show him that.
He wondered who would show Adam.
The silver-haired man sat a moment longer and then went to the cupboard and removed a dusty bottle of brandy. He kept it for special occasions, though they were usually happy ones like the birth of a child. It was almost as old as he was. Taking the bottle and a glass back to the blue chair, he poured a stiff drink and then sat and sipped it slowly, thinking of Joseph. It went against his instincts to keep something as monumental as this from his son. Lies and secrets were a cancer to the soul, eating away what was good and leaving only destruction in their wake. And yet, he had to consider what this would do to the boy. Joe was so young. He was still learning what it was to be a man. As a father, he had been working so hard to teach him, to show his youngest the right path. Joseph was a handful with his impulsive nature and, like his mother, felt things too deeply. So deeply, in fact, it left him...
Vulnerable.
Ben's knuckles went white on the stem of the brandy glass.
And someone had taken advantage of him.
The older man drew several deep calming breaths before tossing the remainder of the shot of brandy down his throat. Whoever it was, he wanted them dead, but – dead or alive – would make little difference to Joe's survival.
He still had to choose.
Ben began to pour another drink and then thought better of it. He rose instead and replaced the bottle in the cupboard so the temptation was out of sight and mind. He'd need a clear head for what was to come. He'd decided to wait until Paul Martin returned to make up his mind about Joseph. He'd talk to the doctor and see if the medical man confirmed his suspicions as Adam said he would. He'd ask Paul as well if there was any sort of timeframe for the return of Joseph's memory, or if the doctor thought it would ever return. As for the rest, he knew what signs to watch for. He'd been a witness to poor Thomas Slade's decline – Slade, who had once been a vital, active, and dynamic man, who had slowly disintegrated into a confused, angry, and lost soul. After that, he would be forced to make the decision whether to tell Joe or not.
It would be the hardest he would ever make.
It was late evening and Adam Cartwright was tired. He knew he had been pushing himself, but he found it hard to sit with his father and Hoss in the great room in the evenings, knowing what Pa was thinking and what Hoss didn't know. It had been almost a week and so far the older man had agreed with him and decided not to tell Joe anything – at least for the time being. And since they weren't going to tell Joe, they felt that the two of them were more than enough to keep such a...secret. Hoss was going to take it hard anyhow. So hard, he wondered what it would do to the big man who, unlike him, always saw the whiskey glass half full.
So, instead of remaining with the family, he had taken the coward's way out and chosen to spend most of his days and nights on the range or in the open field, handling the tasks his father and brother had no time for. Each time he made such a request his father would give him that 'look', the one that said he knew what he was doing, but he let him go. This time he had been away for almost three days. During that time he had kept so busy that it was only late at night, after the day ended and he laid his head down to sleep, that he couldn't escape his thoughts. Sleep eluded him and the demons of all that had occurred and its possible consequences plagued him.
At times he thought he might go mad.
Tonight, before heading to the Ponderosa, he'd spent some time in town, first checking on the progress of Roy's investigation into the attack on Joe – which was nil – and then at one of the myriad saloons that dotted Virginia City's main street. He'd probably had one too many. He was stumbling tired and ready for bed and intended to stable his horse, walk into the house, and go straight up the staircase to sleep.
If there was a God, He had other plans.
After bedding down Sport in the stable he made a beeline for the door, but was stopped by a small voice that spoke from the shadows close by it.
"Hey, big brother."
Adam halted with his hand on the latch. He closed his eyes.
It was Joe.
"Where you been Adam? I ain't seen much of you lately."
The man in black drew a breath and turned toward his brother, who was barely visible. Joe was sitting on the porch in a chair beside the wooden table, bundled against the cold. It was true. He had been avoiding Joe, not because of what had been done to his little brother, but because he was afraid he would say or do something that might act as a trigger and bring it all back. He couldn't do that to Joe.
Adam halted at the edge of the porch. "What are you doing outside?"
"There's only so much a man can take of staring at the same four walls, " Joe said, his voice quiet. "Doc Martin was here. He told Pa it was all right."
"I see. 'All right'. But is it wise?"
There was a pause. "What would you care?"
Adam frowned. He moved closer to his brother so he could see him in the light that fell from the window over their father's desk. Joe was looking away, toward the horizon and not at him.
"Joe. Why would you say such a thing?"
His brother didn't move. "Seems to me like you've been steering clear of me, Adam." There was a touch of anger in his baby brother's voice. "I haven't seen you for a week or more."
"I've been busy."
"Hoss's been busy too, but he's seen me every day. So's Pa."
"I'm sorry, Joe." And he was. "It's just – "
"Are you mad at me, Adam? For staying at the Bucket longer than I told you I would?"
He closed his eyes. God! This was hard. "Joe, no. I'm not mad at you."
His brother was quiet for a moment. "Then what is it, Adam? Why don't you want to be around me?" Joe paused. "What's wrong with me?"
Adam's heart sank. "Nothing, Joe. There's nothing wrong with you." Joe was still pale and wan. Though he'd recovered some, Doc Martin said he wouldn't come anything close to normal for a good many weeks. He looked like a waif, sitting there, all bundled up like a little lost boy.
Adam turned away. "It's me, Joe, not you. There's something wrong with me."
A silence fell between them. Into it bled the sounds of the night – cattle lowing, horses whinnying, hawks wheeling overhead.
Joe speaking.
"It's not your fault, Adam."
He glanced at him. "What?"
"What happened to me. It's not your fault. If I'd listened to you, it would never have happened. It's my fault, not yours."
"It's not your fault, Joe. It's the fault of whoever...attacked you." In his mind's eye he continued to see it – his brother trussed, laying helpless on the ground. A man, some monster of a man, assaulting him – using Joe while he was unconscious for his own sick pleasure.
"Adam..."
It was there again, the pit – the emptiness. Pushing it down, denying it victory, he answered as calmly as he could. "Yes, Joe?"
"I wish I could remember."
The sentence almost broke him. "Joe," he said softly, "maybe it's better you don't."
He could see Joe's face in the light. His brother was frowning, trying to recall what Adam hoped he would never recall.
"I keep trying, big brother. I think about it – think about it hard – but there's just nothing there. Still..."
"Still?"
"There's...something." Joe looked at him, his eyes wide. "There's something I need to remember. I know it." A tremble ran the length of his brother's thin frame. Joe drew an audible breath and let it out slowly. "Jude came by today," he said, changing the subject.
"Oh?" he asked, grateful that he had. "What did he want?"
Joe shifted in the chair. "Just to see how I was. He feels bad he stayed in town and didn't travel with Beck and me. He thinks he should have done something to prevent what happened."
Adam sighed. "As human beings we do poorly at many things, but we are very good at guilt."
"Do you feel guilty, Adam?"
The question hung in the air between them. He thought about denying it, but then decided there was no point. "Yes, Joe. I do."
"You shouldn't."
The man in black ran a hand across his face and turned toward his brother. "Pa left me in charge. I was responsible for you. I made a bad choice and that choice nearly got you killed."
"I'm not a kid, Adam –"
"Yes. Yes, you are!" he snapped. "In spite of what you think, Joe, you're still a kid and I was responsible for you and I let you down. I failed Pa. I failed the family and I failed you. This...thing that happened, it's my fault, Joe. My fault! Don't you understand?"
"Adam. Don't you think you done gone and said just about enough?"
He went rigid. One never realized how much they sounded like an idiot until they knew someone else was listening.
"How long have you been there, Hoss?"
Hoss stood in the light cast by the open door. The look on his face said more than he did. "Long enough."
"It's okay, Hoss," Joe began.
"No, it ain't, Joe." The big man came to stand between them. "I've had just about enough of you, big brother. Whatever burr you got under your saddle, you need to pull it out."
"You've got no right, Hoss –" Adam snapped.
"I got every right. You just leave Joe alone." Hoss' eyes shone in the light, fiery as the flame that created it. "You ain't been a part of this family for near-on a week now, and when you do come home, it still ain't to be a part of it. I'm tired of you thinking only of yourself, Adam."
"Thinking of myself?" He was astonished. "I'm not thinking of myself. I'm – "
"You sure as shootin' are! Ain't nothin' else you've thought of since we brought Joe home. Now, I know you feel responsible, and maybe in a way you are, but it ain't right to treat Joe – and Pa like you're treatin' them."
Adam scowled. "How am I treating them?"
"Like they got a disease. It ain't much better with me." Hoss waited until he met his angry gaze. "What in all that's holy is wrong with you?"
Adam froze. He shook his head. "In all that's 'holy'," he scoffed. "What if I told you I don't think there is anything that's 'holy'? What if I told you that I think you live and you work and you sweat and you bleed and then you die and there's nothing more?"
"Adam, you don't believe that," his brother said softly.
Adam glanced at Joe and then back to his middle brother, his jaw set in defiance.
"Don't I?"
Adam stormed off into the dark. Hoss watched him go and then looked at his younger brother. Joe hadn't sparred with Adam like he had, but it looked like the argument between them had taken as much out of his baby brother as it had out of him.
Taking a seat on the wooden table next to Joe he said, "Sorry, little brother. I guess I lost my temper."
For a second Joe said nothing. Then, "What do you think's wrong with Adam?"
"I don't rightly know. But you know how Adam is, everything gets bottled up inside and he's too dag-blamed 'civilized' to let it out like you and I do by blowin' off some steam."
Joe had his chin on his hand and was staring off in the direction their elder brother had gone. "I don't think Adam likes me anymore."
"Now, Joe, don't you go sayin' such a darned stupid thing! Sure he does. Don't you ever think otherwise. Whatever's eatin' at Adam ain't got nothin' to do with you."
Joe's head shook. "You're wrong, Hoss. It does."
He couldn't see his little brother's expression, but the pain was there in his voice. "You go ahead then, and tell me how it does."
His brother turned toward him. There were unspent tears in his eyes. "I can't. I just know it does."
"Now, Joe, don't you go upsetting yourself. It ain't good for you. You need to rest and – " He stopped.
"What is it, Hoss?" Joe asked.
"Don't you hear it, Joe? Someone's comin'." The big man crossed to the door and called out. "Pa, we got company!"
His father appeared in the door momentarily. "Who is it, Hoss?"
"I don't rightly know yet."
The silver-haired man crossed to where Joe was. "I was just about to come out for you, son. You've been up long enough. It's time you got to bed."
"Ah, Pa, do I have too?" His little brother whined. "I've been in that gosh-darned bed so long I think I might go crazy."
A slender female form appeared at their father's side. "Doctor's orders," Phoebe said.
It had been nice having a woman around the house. It sort of softened everything up. They'd thought Phoebe might be leaving them soon since Joe was getting better, but Doc Martin told Pa that morning that he thought it was good thing she stay a while longer. The Doc said she had a 'good' effect on Joe. Hoss smiled as he watched the redhead cross over to his little brother and hold out her hand. Phoebe definitely had an effect on Joe. His little brother pulled himself together and the woeful look he'd had on his face vanished to be replaced with more than a shadow of his usual smile. Joe accepted her hand and let her help him to his feet, and then leaned on the redhead as they slowly made their way into the house.
Just inside the door Joe stopped and looked back. "Can I sit on the settee for a while, Pa?"
The older man mulled it over. "For a bit, Joe, but not too long."
His brother grinned. "Thanks, Pa."
As Phoebe and Joe entered the house the sound he had heard defined itself. Two riders appeared at the edge of the yard.
One of them was Roy Coffee.
Hoss saw his father glance in the direction Joe had gone and then back to Roy. The silver-haired man drew a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and stepped off the porch. As he did, he turned back and said, "Hoss, see that your brother gets settled comfortably inside and then come back out."
"Yes, sir."
It took him about three minutes. When the big man emerged from the house he found his father deep in a discussion with Roy and the other rider, who was one of his deputies.
"Hoss," the sheriff said, acknowledging him.
"Roy," he replied, doing the same. "What's this all about, Roy?"
"Roy wants to talk to your brother."
"Joe?" When his father nodded, he asked, "What about?"
"There's been another attack, Hoss, like Joe's," Roy said.
His father's face was grim. "The young man is dead."
"Dead?" The pain he felt was selfish, even though it was felt for the family of the other man. What if they had lost Joe? "How'd he die, Roy?"
There was something in the way the sheriff answered. He was holding something back. "I can't rightly say, Hoss, not 'til I speak with the family. But I can tell you he was tied up and then beaten and robbed, and his clothes were missing just like your brother's."
"Do you think it's the same man that done it?"
The sheriff nodded. "Now, Ben, about what I asked?"
Hoss glanced at his father. The older man wasn't looking at the lawman, he was staring at the house, a distant look in his eyes.
"It won't do you any good to talk to Joe," he said. "The boy doesn't remember anything."
"Now, Ben, you let me decide that."
His father pivoted on his heel. "No!" he snapped. "I won't give my permission."
"Ben, you listen to me, this here is an official investigation. If you don't let me talk to Joe, you'll be obstructing the law. I can throw you in jail for that." Roy Coffee paused. His voice grew gentle. "Ben, I ain't gonna upset the boy, I just want to ask him a few questions. If this here is the same man then we got us a repeater, and who knows what other man's son is gonna die because you wouldn't let me talk to yours!"
"Pa," Hoss said, "Roy's right. We got Joe. He's safe. This man's family, well, they lost the one they loved. We don't want that to happen to anyone else, do we?"
His father remained silent for several heartbeats. "No," he sighed. "No, I don't want that." Turning to the lawman the older man said, "All right, but only for a few minutes, and if Joe gets too upset I will put a stop to it. Do you understand that, Roy?"
Sheriff Coffee held up his hands in surrender. "That's all I'm askin', Ben. I don't want to hurt the boy any more than he's already been hurt."
Hoss heard something in the lawman's voice. When he turned to his pa, he saw it echoed in the older man's eyes.
As he followed the two men into the house he couldn't help but wonder what it was.
EIGHT
Ben found his youngest situated on the settee. Phoebe had propped Joe's feet up and tucked several blankets around him and then positioned herself in the chair beside him. She really was a remarkable young lady and quite devoted to Joe. It was easy for him to see that she was in love with his son, though Joe seemed oblivious to it. Of course, at the moment, his son's energies were concentrated on recovery, so it was just as well. One of these days, though, there could be a sudden change and he would have to keep a watch out for that as well. While he had nothing against Phoebe, it would be hard to tell if his son's feelings for her – should Joe came to have them – were real, or if it was a deep gratitude instead of love.
"Joseph?" he said
"Yeah, Pa?" Joe asked. When he noted the lawman following in his wake, he added, "Hey, Sheriff Roy. What brings you out here?"
"Roy would like to ask you a few questions, Joseph. About the attack." Ben frowned. Joe looked exhausted. "Are you up to it? If not, we can postpone – "
"I'm fine, Pa."
"You are far from 'fine', son. But if you feel up to it..."
Joe shifted and sat up straighter. He looked at Roy. "Ask away."
"Joe, I know you say you don't remember anything about what happened the other night, but I'd like to go over it all again, if you've got the strength."
"Sure. Does this have to do with you trying to catch whoever robbed me?"
Ben beat the other man to it. "Joe, there's been another attack. Just like yours."
The color drained from his son's face. "Someone...else?"
"A young man, about your age." He and Roy had agreed they would not tell Joe the young man had died, at least not right away. "He was beaten and robbed just the same as you."
"We're thinkin', Joe, that we got ourselves a repeat offender, so's it's even more important now that you try to remember what happened to you." The sheriff paused. "Joe?"
His son had been staring. He started at his name. "How is he? The man who got attacked?" Joe asked quietly.
Roy pursed his lips. "I cain't rightly say. His family don't know about it yet. I'll let you know when I can."
Joe frowned but seemed to accept that.
"Now, tell me what you remember."
Ben noticed, as Joe began to speak, that Phoebe's hand went to his son's arm and rested on it, lending him her strength. "Adam and me, we went into town after work. I wanted to stay for a poker game and, well, I talked Adam into leaving me behind. I didn't have a very good run. I ran out of money about midnight and since Beck was heading out, we decided to ride home together." His son paused. "I think Beck was looking out for me. I'd had a little too much to drink," he added with chagrin.
"You two took off at the same time? Was anyone else around?"
Joe frowned. "I didn't see anyone close, but it was dark. There were some people out front of the hotel, and wagons coming and going – just a normal night, you know?"
"Okay," Roy said. "Go on."
"We were about three miles outside of town when Beck heard something. You know, by Pointer's Arch? He told me about it and we decided to stop in case it was someone laying in wait." His son fell momentarily silent. Of course, there had been someone laying in wait. "We split up, Beck going one way and me going the other. I lost sight of him just about the time I got to the Arch..." The boy's voice trailed off and he shuddered.
"Joe, if you need to stop..." Ben suggested.
His youngest's eyes sought his. They said that he needed to go on. "I'm all right, Pa."
"You said you split up?" the sheriff prompted.
"I came in from the back where it's the darkest. I couldn't see much, not even with the moon. You know how it is, Roy, when you get under the rocks?"
The sheriff nodded. "And that's when it happened?"
Joe's jaw tightened. He nodded too.
"Son, this is where it is important for you to remember."
Joe grew agitated. "But, I don't! I don't remember seeing anything. I've closed my eyes and tried to put myself back there so many times, but there's nothing!" His son's gaze flew to him. "Pa, why is there nothing?"
"Roy, I think we better put a stop to this," the silver-haired man said.
The gaze that met his was not the gaze of a lawman, but of a man who was also a father. "I know how hard this is, Ben. Just a couple more questions? All right?"
He looked at Joe. His son was pale and shaking. "I don't know..."
"Pa. I want to."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, Pa, I'm sure."
"All right, Joe," Roy said. "Now listen to me. I want you to stop tryin' to remember what you seen. Think about the things you didn't see – did you smell anything? Was there something you heard?" He paused. "Did the man who attacked you say anything?"
Joe went deathly still. All of the color drained from his face.
"Yes."
"Joe!" Ben sat on the table before the settee near his boy. "You never mentioned this before."
Joe's green eyes met his. He swallowed. "I didn't remember it before," he said, his voice trembling.
"I know this is going to be hard son," Roy said, trying to mask his excitement. "But can you tell me what the man said?"
The room was quiet. Hoss, who had remained by the door listening, moved to stand near his brother. Phoebe's fingers were white on Joe's sleeve.
"I asked him who he was," Joe said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"What did he say? Did he tell you?"
Joe shook his head 'no'. "He said, 'Who do you think?'
Ben's heart was racing. Joe was recalling something he had not recalled before. Did that mean his son would soon recall everything?
Roy nodded. "Did you ask him anything else, boy?"
"Yeah. I asked him what he wanted and he told me." Joe looked confused.
"What was that, Joe?" his father asked softly. "What did he say he wanted?"
His son lifted his head and met his concerned stare. Pain and fear and something else were mingled in Joseph's eyes.
"I didn't understand it then, Pa. I still don't." Joe hesitated. "He said he wanted me."
Adam didn't go home that night. He'd walked a short ways into the trees after crossing swords with Hoss and then returned to the stable, intending to claim his horse and take off again, thinking maybe he would go back to the Arch like he had a dozen times before and see if he could figure anything out. While he was saddling his horse he'd heard several men talking and then it grew quiet. As the front door closed, he took Sport out and rode off into the night. In the end he didn't go to the Arch. Instead something drew him to the prime piece of land with the ramshackle cottage on it that Joe loved and had coerced their father into giving him. Joe'd brought Hoss and him up here shortly afterward, busting with pride, and told them all about his plans and dreams for a wife and a home.
It was funny how his little brother was always thinking about something that he, as the eldest, seldom thought about – having his own family. Sometimes he thought it had to do with losing his own mother at such a young age. There had been the loss of Elizabeth's loving presence and a boy's hurt that kept him from trusting such a love again, but also, it was just him and his pa and that seemed enough.
It still did, only now it was just him.
Adam sat on the stoop of the small broken-down cottage. The boards were uneven and some of them rotted. If Joe did come to this place with a wife, it was going to take a lot of work to make it livable. But from where he was sitting the view was spectacular and he completely understood what had drawn his brother to it. It was peaceful too. That was why, in the end, he had come here – to find peace. He hadn't, of course. How could he?
He'd brought his own turmoil with him.
The man in black closed his eyes and lowered his head into his hands. This was not like him, losing his way, living on the raw edge of emotion and turning away from the ones he loved. A part of it was a genuine fear of being around Joe and letting something slip, of planting a suggestion in his brother's mind that, once considered, could never be dismissed. But that wasn't the most of it. It went deeper.
He'd lost his faith in life as well as in God.
Adam rose and began to pace. The line from William Shakespeare's Macbeth kept haunting him. The Bard had his main character – a man wracked with guilt and poisoned by shame – say of life that it was 'a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.'
Nothing.
Was it all really 'nothing?' Did a man live all of his days just so he could be beaten and whipped and kicked and taken down? Did he have hopes – Adam turned to look at the structure behind him – hopes like his little brother had for a future and yet, they were 'nothing'? Was it foolish to love, to hope, to believe, when the world didn't care, when all it wanted to do was to strike a man into the ground like a sledgehammer dropped on the head of a post, pounding, pounding, pounding until he was beaten and buried?
The vision of his brother, trussed, brutalized, more, flashed before his eyes.
God! It was a physical pain, what had happened to Joe.
What was happening to him.
Since he had been a little boy, his pa had taken him to church. Even when his father grew hard after his mother's death and was angry with God, still they had gone to hear the Lord's Word. His father had never doubted – didn't doubt now after what had happened to Joe. How, he wondered,how? How could a man believe in a Providential God that would allow such a thing to happen to a boy – a thing that might change his life forever or, worse yet, change him. And why?Could there be a reason? Could there be any good in this?
And if God allowed it, then could there be any good in God?
Adam sighed and then he laughed bitterly. It was like the foundation of a house, his faith in God. He didn't think much about it. Who did? You laid a foundation and then covered it up with all the things – the boards and bricks, the plaster and paint – that made it a house and a home. He didn't inspect it and work to improve it every day either like the Good Book said he should. As an architect he should have known, should have remembered.
Without a firm foundation everything is lost.
Now, what was he supposed to do?
Adam returned to the cabin. He opened the door and went in. For a few minutes he walked around and then settled on the stone hearth. Through an open window he could see the sky and the myriad stars sparkling there. A thought struck him as he did, that though the sky was bleak, the stars were brilliant. It reminded him of a story Inger had told him when he'd been a little boy when, for a brief moment, the beautiful fair-haired woman had been his second mother. Inger's smile was like those stars, dazzling and bright. Her death, like the bleak black sky.
One night, when his pa had been away with the other men on the wagon train, he'd awakened her with screams in the night. Inger had come to him and held him and told him there was nothing to fear from the dark; that it was only masking the light and the light had not gone away. Then, in her lilting Swedish voice, she told him a story. There was a woman who was imprisoned. Where she was it was silent and dark and without light, so black was all she could see. Every day she prayed that she would be freed from it and she grew angry with God when He did not answer her prayers. She shouted at Him and cursed Him saying He was cruel, and that somehow, someday she would be free of the four walls that held her captive whether He willed it or not. Then, one day, the woman heard a sound. It was small and quiet. She listened and followed it and found the walls were only in her mind. It had been the song of a bird.
And she had always been outside.
Adam looked up with tears in his eyes at the hope his little brother had and was humbled. Shifting, he fell to his knees.
"God," he said as the tears fell, "God, pleasehelp me."
Hoss awakened halfway through the night and was unable to return to sleep. He'd wandered the house for a while, made a snack of three-quarters of a chicken that Hop Sing had on ice, and then headed for the stable to be with the animals he loved. There was something about God's living creatures that soothed him even as he sought to soothe them. He'd loved Nature and everything about her for as long as he could remember and when he was troubled, he often went out to visit with her where he could breathe and think.
There was something wrong. Sometimes it seemed to him that everyone else knew what it was, but then he'd look and listen to Joe and he didn't think his little brother was keeping any secrets.
He weren't so sure about Adam and his Pa.
The thing was, he loved both men and he trusted them, so if they was keeping a secret there was bound to be a sure-fire, solid-as-a-rock reason for it. He'd sensed tonight while standing by the door, listening to Roy Coffee question Little Joe, that whatever it was his pa and Adam were doing, they was doing it to protect Joe. He saw it in his pa's eyes when the older man looked at his youngest son, and in Adam's when he looked away.
When he opened the door to the stable, he'd found Adam's horse gone. He realized his brother must have come back either before Roy and his deputy arrived or after, and headed out alone. Adam was a thinking man and most of the time he had to do it by himself. Joe was always joshing, sometimes with a downright mean edge, about Adam being a Northerner, meaning big brother never showed his emotions and was hard as the boulders the waves dashed themselves against. Hoss remembered Adam as he grew up, after his own mother had died. His older brother had suffered an awful lot of loss for a little feller and it seemed to him that he had made a choice, in so many words, to reach up and turn off the tap of emotion in order to survive.
If the truth were known – and Joe'd never believe it – he thought Adam's feelings ran deeper than either of theirs. It was the reason big brother had to deny them.
A man just couldn't live on the edge all the time.
After he'd found Adam gone, Hoss returned to the house. Sitting in one of the chairs by the fire he'd picked up one of Adam's books and started to read, only to be stopped when his father appeared at the head of the stairs dressed for the day. He couldn't sleep neither. His pa said he was going to take a ride around the ranch and would be back for breakfast, which was about two hours from now.
Hoss picked up the slim volume of Adam's he'd been looking at and read a few more lines. Then he put it down. Reading one of his older brother's books always gave him a headache. Adam had a mind that liked big ideas and deep thoughts – so deep a man could puzzle over them for days and find nary a conclusion. He liked books, but he enjoyed the ones with exciting stories, filled with adventure and tales of the land he loved. Putting Adam's volume down Hoss rose and headed for the stair. Come to think of it, there was some of those books in his Pa's room. Since Pa was out, it wouldn't disturb him if he borrowed one.
At the top of the stairs Hoss halted. Phoebe was standing in the hall near Joe's door with her hand on the knob. For some reason she hesitated to enter. She turned a stricken face toward him when she heard his footsteps.
"What is it, Miss Phoebe?" he asked as he hurried to her side.
"Listen."
He pressed his ear to the door.
Joe was crying.
"I didn't want to go in, even though I did want to," she breathed. "I've been around men enough that I know they don't want anyone to see them cry. I...I didn't want to shame Little Joe."
Hoss straightened up. "That was right thoughtful of you," he said. "I'll take care of him. You go back to your room and try to get some sleep."
"Little Joe's lucky, you know, to have a brother like you. To have the family he has."
There was something odd in her voice, but he didn't have time for it now. "Thank you, Miss Phoebe. Now, I gotta get to my brother."
Turning away from her, Hoss put his hand to the knob and slowly pushed the door in. The room was dark. The curtains had been drawn so even the light of the stars was put out. "Joe," he called softly as he entered the nest of shadows. "Little Joe?" When he got no answer, the big man moved into the room and crossed to the bed expecting to find his brother sitting on the side of it, or maybe curled up in a ball on its top.
Joe was under the covers. He was asleep.
Joe was crying in his sleep.
As gently as he could the big man sat down on the bed beside his little brother. It near broke his heart to hear Joe whimper like a child. This has been what their pa was afraid of when he let Roy Coffee question Joe – that it would bring it all back. Still, even though he knew Joe was weak from the attack, and even though his little brother cried about the easiest of any man he knew, there was something in this cry that was like a church bell rung in a town where the pastor knew no one would come to services.
It was hollow and heartrending.
Hoss lifted a hand to wake Joe, but as he did his brother began to talk. Feeling like the lowest of the low, he pulled back and listened, hoping to hear something that would make him understand.
"Who... What do you want?" Joe murmured, the words coming from a world of dream and only half-intelligible to those who did not inhabit it. "What...do you mean? Me? What?" Joe began to pitch from side to side. Without warning his hands shot out, crossing before his face in an attempt to ward something off. "No! Don't... Don't tie me up!"
Joe's body followed his hands. He sat up abruptly, panting hard, the tears flowing down his cheeks. His eyes remained closed.
Joe was still asleep.
His little brother remained silent, then he twisted violently, like a man evading a blow. "God, no," he moaned, "God. No. No! Don't touch me!" "
Hoss had had all he could take. He gripped Joe firmly by both arms. "Joe, wake up! Joe!"
His brother shrieked.
The big man didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing he could think of. He gathered Joe in his arms and held him tight, letting him struggle, taking the blows, and all the while telling him that he was safe. He was here.
He was home.
A minute, maybe two later his brother quieted. It took a while but the sobs that wracked Joe's slender form turned to gasps and then to ragged breaths until at last he was breathing normally. Finally his little brother looked up, all red-eyed and snot-nosed.
"Hey," Joe said, his voice trembling.
"Hey there, boy. You done frightened me right out of my skin." Hoss began to pull away, but Joe had hold of his arm and did not let go. "You okay?"
His brother frowned. He opened and closed his eyes several times. "It's fading, Hoss."
"What's fadin'?"
"Hoss, I saw... No, I felt... No." Joe's small form went rigid. "No."
"Do you remember what happened?"
Joe wiped the snot from his upper li[ with the back of his hand and the tears from it with the sleeve of his night robe. "It was just a dream," he said.
"That were more than a dream, Joe, you was plumb terrified."
"So, I had a nightmare!" Joe barked, his quick temper igniting. "Can't a man have a night terror without someone thinking he's a little kid!"
"Joe, I didn't say you was a kid."
"But you were thinking it!" Joe shoved him away. "Get out! Leave me alone!"
Hoss stood at the side of the bed. "Joe, what's wrong?"
"There ain't nothing wrong! It's three o-'clock in the morning and I want to get some sleep. How can I do that with a big lump like you standing there asking me questions?"
"Now, Joe, you was crying and I – "
"I wasn't crying! You were hearing things. Maybe it's you who were dreaming!" Joe countered testily even as another tear rolled down his face.
Hoss held up a hand. "Okay, Joe, I'm leavin'. Just so you're all – "
His brother turned away from him and slammed his body back into the bed. He heard him stifle a cry of pain and then Joe said, "I'm fine. I just need some sleep." There was a pause and then quieter, with a plea, his baby brother added, "Please, Hoss, just go away."
When he closed the door behind him and turned around, Hoss found his father standing in the hall. The older man had been there, he knew not how long, listening. The silver-haired man's expression was one of pain and purpose.
"How's Joe?" he asked as he inclined his head toward the room.
Hoss was honest. "I'm not sure, Pa. Somethin's sure eatin' at him. You think it had to do with that talk with Roy?"
It took the him a moment. "Yes, son, I'm certain it did."
The big man glanced at the door. "You gonna go in and talk to him?"
His father shook his head. "No. I imagine Joe wants to be alone. I'll check in on him later."
"Pa, you know I trust you – and I trust Adam," he said with a sigh. "But I sure wish you would let me in on whatever in Tarnation is goin' on."
The older man sighed. "I've wanted to, son. It wouldn't ever be my choice to leave one of my sons in the dark." Again, his eyes shot to the door to Joe's room. "I made a decision, thinking it was protecting you and Joe. I was wrong. You need to know what Adam and I know." He paused and amended it. "What we think we know. Though, after tonight – after this – I am fairly certain we're right."
"How much did you hear, Pa?"
"Almost all of it."
Hoss considered how painful that must have been for their father. "What is it you gotta tell me?"
The silver-haired man's face was grave as a shroud.
"Let's go downstairs where we can talk."
Hoss sat in one of the red chairs that butted up against the hearth, his head down, his hands folded on his knees. His middle son had been staring at the fire since he finished talking. Hoss' expression was hard to read. There was pain – and worry – there, but more than anything else Ben saw anger.
A deep, simmering, slow-burning, bound-to-be-explosive-when-it-boiled-over anger.
"Son, what are you thinking?"
The big man remained silent for a moment. One hand opened and closed slowly, forming a white-knuckled fist. "Pa, I ain't got words for what I'm thinkin," Hoss said, his voice quiet. "You know how it is with me and Little Joe."
Yes, he knew. Ben had often heard Hoss refer to his brother as 'my' Little Joe. Well, someone had done something unspeakable to his Little Joe and the silver-haired man knew what that meant.
Hoss was ready to kill.
"I understand how angry you are – "
His son looked at him. "No, Pa. I don't rightly think you do."
"Your love of your baby brother runs deep as the roots of a Ponderosa pines, I know that."
"It runs deeper, Pa. Deeper than that. So deep there ain't no end to it, not even when you come out of the other side of the world."
Ben kept his voice even, logical, and spoke as much to himself as he did to Hoss. "I understand that, son, but even if we knew who this man was – and if it was proven that he did what Adam and I think he might have done – that would still be no excuse for you or any one of us, much as we might want to, to take the law into our own hands."
"Well, if it ain't, Pa, it oughta be," Hoss said, his anger reaching a medium burn. "If'n I found myself that coward I'd tear him in two with my bare hands."
"And go to jail. How would that benefit your brother?"
"But, Pa," Hoss protested, looking up. "Joe. This is Joe."
Ben remained standing for a moment and then dropped wearily onto the settee beside his son. Yes, it was Joe, and he wanted nothing more than to do the same thing – to find the man who did this alone somewhere and deliver to him the vengeance of God and the law. But he was neither.
He was neither God nor the law.
"Son, we...have to let Roy find this man and arrest him. You can't do it, neither can Adam or I. We are too close, too involved." Ben drew a steadying breath. "Too filled with rage. And then, once he is found, we have to let the law punish him. Otherwise, we are no better than he is. We are just a different kind of savage."
As his temper boiled over, Hoss grew agitated. He leapt from his seat and began to pace. "Pa, whoever done this ain't a savage, he's just plain evil. Savages don't know any better. You can't go tellin' me that this man didn't know what he was doin'!"
Ben's jaw tightened. "No. He knew what he was doing. That still doesn't give us a right to take matters into our own hands."
"But, Pa!"
"To me belongeth vengeance and recompense," he quoted the Bible as he rose. "'Their foot shall slide in due time for the day of their calamity is at hand, and the things that shall come upon them make haste." The words from Deuteronomy hung in the air between them, challenging both of them to do just that – leave revenge and repayment in God's hands.
Hoss looked like a balloon that had had the air let out. He scuffed the floor with his boot, like he had done as a little boy, and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"It just don't seem right, Pa."
Ben ran a hand over his face. "There is nothing right about any of this, Hoss. The attack. The possibility of what its consequences could do to Joseph. Your brother Adam..." Ben paused. "Your older brother separating himself from the family."
"That's one you don't need to worry about any more, Pa," a fresh voice spoke from the open door.
The silver-haired man knew it. "Adam!" he exclaimed as he turned toward the sound.
His eldest looked sheepish. "Yeah, it's me, Pa," he said quietly, "back from the edge."
Ben crossed over to him quickly. "Are you all right, son?"
Adam drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No. I'm not all right. But you know what, Pa? That's all right. I want to apologize to you, and to you too Hoss." Adam looked at his brother and then came back to him. "I thought I was thinking about everyone else, trying to protect everyone else, but you were right, the one I was protecting was myself." His son hesitated. "I'm sorry I let all of you down."
"It's okay, Adam," his middle son said.
His eldest cast a glance at Hoss. "You told him?"
Ben nodded. "After what happened with Joe tonight I felt I had to."
Adam frowned, alert and on edge. "What happened?"
"Roy Coffee done come out to talk to little brother, Adam," Hoss told him.
"And?"
Ben Cartwright drew a deep breath as he placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
"You're brother is beginning to remember