Chapter Seven

The following days passed in much the same way. Once Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe had finished their chores, often assisted by Josie, the foursome would ride off around the ranch; Josie was still a little unsteady on horseback but making progress. On July 2, the family celebrated Little Joe's eighth birthday with a big chocolate cake after supper, and Adam presented him with the .22 rifle he had purchased in San Francisco. The little boy was beside himself with joy and wanted to go outside and start shooting it right then, but Adam told him it was getting too dark and he had to wait until the next morning. Little Joe stuck his lower lip out in a classic pout, but Hop Sing cheered him up with a second piece of cake.

The next morning, Little Joe bolted his breakfast and dragged Adam outside before he had even finished his coffee. Josie decided to tag along. She had no experience with guns and was curious to see what all the fuss was about. As the trio marched across the yard to get some distance from the house, Hoss glanced out the window and exploded in laughter.

"What's so funny?" Hannah asked.

"Adam!" Hoss exclaimed, laughing so hard he clutched his sides. "He looks like a big ol' mama duck!"

The three adults rose from the table and joined Hoss at the window where they saw that Adam did indeed look just like a mother duck. He was leading the way across the yard with Josie and Little Joe skipping along in single file behind him, all three of them clad in dark trousers, red shirts, and black boots and hats.

Jacob shook his head. "Would that we were all so popular," he said, smiling.

A few minutes later, the report of a small rifle let them know the lesson had begun. It was not long, however, before the shots ceased and the group indoors heard heavy footfalls racing toward the house. Alarmed, Ben, Hannah, and Jacob rushed out the front door, nearly colliding with Adam who was on his way in, eyes wild and sweaty hair plastered to his forehead. He clutched Little Joe's new .22 in his right hand.

Fearing the worst, Ben grabbed Adam's shoulders and demanded to know what had happened.

"Pa!" Adam shouted in his father's face. "Pa, you've gotta see this! She's a crack shot, Pa!" With that, he spun on his heel and sprinted back to where he had left Little Joe and Josie.

When the adults finally caught up, they found Josie beaming triumphantly next to a downcast Little Joe.

"Show them, Josie!" Adam said, handing her the gun.

Josie pulled the rifle to her shoulder, took careful aim at the first of five cans sitting on a fence rail about twenty yards away, and fired off five quick shots, each one blasting a can from its perch. Three sets of eyes went wide.

"God save the first man who breaks her heart," Ben said.

"I can shoot good, too," Little Joe asserted. "I was just lettin' her use my gun to be polite."

"And that was very nice of you," Aunt Hannah gushed over the little boy.

Josie cottoned on to Little Joe's feelings. "Especially after I fell off my horse yesterday," she offered.

Joseph was only slightly mollified and spent the rest of the day pouting. Josie wisely gave him a wide berth and helped Hoss clean out the barn that afternoon while Adam and Ben rolled out Adam's blueprints for the new house and began planning how much labor and lumber they would need to have the house completed by winter.

The next day, the six Cartwrights and Hop Sing left bright and early to travel into Carson City for the Independence Day festivities. Hannah had coaxed Josie into a dress for the occasion, and even the typically disheveled Hoss had slicked down his hair. Little Joe was still pouting, but he recovered quickly when he found himself in need of a partner for the three-legged race. When he and Josie took first place, all was forgiven, and the two youngest Cartwrights were a team once more.

Adam felt confident enough in his riding to race one of the two-year-old colts that afternoon. The entire family cheered wildly for Adam except Jacob. He usually was not a worrier, but as Adam came charging down the homestretch, all Jacob could think of was how many of Adam's bones he would have to set if the boy were thrown, and he hid his eyes behind his hands. Being a doctor had its disadvantages. But Adam safely crossed the finish line as a close second to his best friend, Ross Marquette, who good-naturedly teased Adam for going soft in college. Ross's fun was cut short, however, when Adam and Hoss easily defeated Ross and his older brother in a tug-of-war match.

The Cartwrights spent the rest of the afternoon cheering for Hop Sing as his blueberry pie took first place in the pie contest, playing horseshoes, and stuffing themselves with ice cream, just as Adam and Josie had done two years ago in Washington. Those two, however, had learned their lesson and were careful to stop after two helpings

When the sun went down, the band fired up, and the dancing commenced. The townsmen had constructed a spacious outdoor wooden dance floor for the occasion. Colorful paper lanterns were strung above the floor to illuminate the entire area with a soft glow. Josie danced with her father, her uncle, and each of her three cousins, though Little Joe took some convincing. He was still under the impression that dancing with a girl could give him a terminal infestation of cooties, even if that girl was his cousin. Flushed and breathless after a fast reel with Hoss, Josie collapsed onto a bench on the side of the dance floor to catch a second wind. She was just thinking about getting up for some lemonade when a blond boy about her own age sat down on the bench next to her. He was holding two cups of lemonade and offered one to Josie.

"Thank you!" she said, beaming at him.

"You're very welcome." The boy stuck out his hand to her. "I'm Simon. Simon Croft."

"Pleasure!" Josie shook Simon's hand. "Josephine Cartwright. People call me Josie."

"Oh! Are you one of the Ponderosa Cartwrights?" Simon asked eagerly. "I didn't know Mr. Cartwright had any daughters."

Josie explained her relationship to Mr. Benjamin Cartwright of the Ponderosa and how she had come to visit for the summer. Simon seemed disappointed, though he asked a few polite questions about Washington, DC, before the conversation's momentum died away.

An awkward silence settled over the children, who both turned stiffly toward the dance floor to watch the couples whirl past. Adam had found himself a pretty young brunette, resplendent in calico, and even Ben was whisking a dark-haired woman gracefully around the dance floor. Jacob and Hannah were oblivious to everyone around them as they danced together, eyes locked in a loving gaze.

For the next song, one of the band members produced an Irish pennywhistle and struck up an irresistibly lively jig. Simon turned to Josie and caught her eye. His mouth opened, but he could not force out the words, so he offered her his hand once more. Josie smiled, took it, and let him lead her onto the dance floor.

Young Simon Croft was quite the dancer, and the sprightly Josie found herself hard-pressed to match his steps, but before long the two children had caught everyone's attention as they pranced expertly around the dance floor. So caught up in their dancing were they that they did not notice the adults step aside to give them more space. By the end of the tune, they were the only couple left on the floor as everyone else in attendance watched in awe and delight at the dancing children. Well, almost everyone. Adam, Hoss, and Little Joe were awed but undeniably less than delighted. Adam had abandoned his comely partner to stand next to his brothers, each of them with their arms folded across their chests as they glared at Simon Croft. Adam was strangely aware of the .44 strapped to his hip, and Hoss unconsciously drew himself up to his full height and flexed his massive biceps. Little Joe furrowed his brow and wished he were bigger.

Ben caught sight of his sons and bit back his laughter. They were quite a sight: two tall, broad young men and one short, scrawny one, all poised to rescue their cousin from the evil clutches of a skinny ten-year-old boy. "Relax, gentlemen," Ben said, stepping over to his children. "This is a party."

Adam shot his father a look but said nothing. The song had just ended, and Simon bowed grandly to Josie, who curtsied in return. Then, hand in hand, the two children scampered off to find more lemonade. Adam moved to follow them, but Ben put up a hand to stop him. "Simon's a good boy," he reassured his eldest son. "His father just bought a ranch on the east border of the Ponderosa. I was planning to invite the entire family to supper sometime."

Adam grunted and remained otherwise silent. He resolved to keep a close eye on Simon Croft for the remainder of Josephine's visit.

Over at the lemonade stand, Simon was telling Josie all about his father's new ranch, the Lucky Star.

"It's nowhere near as big as the Ponderosa – no other ranch is," he explained, "but my pa is confident that we should have a good herd of cattle to sell by this time next year."

Josie listened politely while she sipped her lemonade, and when the band fired up another jig, she grabbed Simon's hand and dragged him back to the dance floor. They danced nonstop until the end of the evening when the band announced they would finish off with a waltz.

"Dang," Simon said sadly. "I don't know how to waltz."

"Fortunately, I do." Adam stepped out of a shadow from whence he had been keeping careful watch over Josie. "Miss Cartwright?" He bowed low to Josie and extended his hand with a flourish. She giggled as she accepted and casting an apologetic glance over her shoulder to a dejected Simon, let Adam lead her onto the dance floor. Josie had never been happier than she was in that moment as her adopted older brother swept her expertly around the dance floor. When the waltz ended, she jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. Grinning, Adam carried her off the dance floor to their waiting family.

"Hang on!" Josie cried when Jacob said it was time to head home. She scurried over to where Simon stood waiting for his parents. She shook his hand vigorously. "Thank you for the dances!" she gushed. "And all the lemonade."

Simon blushed and kicked at an imaginary pebble on the ground. "Wasn't nothin'," he mumbled. Checking that no adults were watching, Josie pecked him swiftly on the cheek and scampered back to her family. Astonished, Simon watched her go, one hand on the cheek Josie had kissed.

Little Joe and Josie were so exhausted from the big day that they collapsed against each other and fell asleep within minutes of Ben slapping the horses with the carriage's reins and setting off for home. Once or twice the carriage hit a bump in the road, knocking the children's heads together, but they were so deeply asleep neither of them stirred.

It was nearly 2 a.m. when they finally returned home. By that time, even Adam and Hoss were half asleep in their saddles. Jacob and Ben lifted their sleeping children and carried them upstairs to bed, little heads lolling open-mouthed against big shoulders.

Everyone slept in the following morning before settling into a routine that would carry them through the rest of the month. After morning chores and breakfast, Little Joe and Josie would race outside to play while Adam stayed behind with Ben and Jacob to organize the building supplies that were now coming in for the new house. Adam was proud that he had designed the house to be built entirely from lumber and stone taken from Ponderosa land, and he had flabbergasted everyone with his cutting-edge plans for indoor plumbing.

"See, Pa?" Adam said one day, tracing a line on his blueprints with his finger. "We connect pipes to the stove in the kitchen and run them through the walls to the second floor, so every time Hop Sing cooks, he's also heating water for the upstairs washroom. It won't be unlimited hot water – we'll still have to carry up buckets of heated water sometimes – but it's a start. The best part is that we won't have to drag full tubs outside to dump them out any more. Just pull the drain plug, and the water runs out these pipes to irrigate Hop Sing's garden behind the house." Ben marveled at his son's ingenuity.

Most days, Hoss would either help with the building supplies or ride off to check the cattle they would drive to market at the beginning of August. Hannah enjoyed sitting in the shade of a tree to read or watch the men work. She considered making herself useful, but ultimately decided to enjoy this respite from her busy volunteer schedule back home. Adam made a point to take at least a couple hours' break every afternoon to join Josie and Little Joe in whatever adventure they were having that day. He continued coaching her on riding, with which she still needed ample help, and shooting, with which she did not.

Three days before the visit ended, Josie and Little Joe announced at lunch that they were going fishing that afternoon.

"You're not going down to the lake by yourselves," Ben informed them.

"We know," Little Joe said impatiently. He knew he was not allowed down at the lake without his father or one of his brothers. "We're just goin' over to the duck pond."

"All right," Ben said, "but you two stay out of that old oak tree down there. It took a lot of damage last winter, and it's nearly rotted through. I don't want either of you breaking your neck."

"Yes, sir," Little Joe and Josie chorused.

After finishing their lunch, the two smallest cousins grabbed a couple of fishing poles and took off toward the duck pond about a half mile from the house. Once there, Little Joe peeled off his shirt, and they both shucked their boots and socks and sat under the dying oak tree at the pond's edge, their feet dandling in the cool water. Twenty minutes passed without so much as a nibble on either child's line, and Little Joe grew impatient.

"I don't think there's any fish over here," he complained.

"So move."

"What if there's no fish over on the other side, either? I'd just be wasting my time."

"It's fishing, Joe, the whole point is to waste time."

Little Joe rolled his eyes at Josie and flung himself back onto the grass. Looking up at the branches of the oak tree gave him an idea. With a mischievous grin, he popped up, put his boots back on, and picked his way over to the tree's gnarled trunk. Josie watched him suspiciously.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Just thinkin' that if I could get up high I could see where the fish are."

Josie sighed. "Joe, Uncle Ben said we're not allowed in that tree. It's rotted."

Little Joe kept staring up at the tree's branches and waved a hand dismissively at Josie. "Branches won't break under me. Whole family's always saying how I don't weigh nothin'. Besides, what Pa don't know won't kill him. You comin' or what?"

Josie shook her head. "Not me," she said. Like most Cartwrights, she harbored a healthy disregard for rules, but she had to side with her uncle on this one. The battered tree looked as if it were being held up only by God's good humor, and many of the branches were cracked and dangling from the trunk at crazy angles.

"Fine, scaredy cat, be a girl." With that, Little Joe grabbed a low-hanging branch and swung himself up into the tree.

He made good progress for about fifteen feet when Josie asked if he could see any fish.

"Not yet!" he called down. "But there's a branch in my way. Lemme get a little higher."

"I don't think that's a good idea!" Josie shouted back, but Little Joe had already recommenced his ascent. Josie cringed when a branch creaked under Joe's left boot, but he made it another ten feet, where he reported that all the fish were, in fact, on the other side of the pond.

"Excellent!" Josie yelled skyward. "Now get outta that tree!"

Proud of his ingenuity, Little Joe grinned down at Josie and began a careful descent. He was doing fine until he reached the last branch about seven feet off the ground. He set his weight on it and just as he was letting go of the branch above him, the moldering limb split, and Little Joe plunged toward the ground. He landed heavily on his right side and grunted as he lost his wind. Josie's stomach lurched, and she wheeled over to him. Relieved that he was conscious, she instinctively began checking him for injuries as he gasped for breath.

"Did you hit your head?" Josie demanded.

Little Joe shook his head as he finally, mercifully, was able to draw a full breath. Josie ran her hands up the arm he had landed on and announced that it was not broken but was, unfortunately, bleeding freely from a deep gash about three inches long between his elbow and wrist.

"Must have sliced it on that root," Joe said, indicating a sharp root sticking up from the ground where he had landed.

"Hold still," Josie ordered. She ran back to the pond's edge and grabbed Little Joe's discarded shirt. She pulled a pocket knife Hoss had given her out of her trousers pocket and quickly sliced off one arm of the shirt.

"Hey!" Little Joe protested. "Ruin your own shirt next time!"

"Stay out of the tree next time!" Josie shot back. Little Joe shut his mouth and let Josie wrap the sleeve tightly around the cut on his arm. To their collective dismay, blood almost immediately saturated the fabric, and Josie shook her head. "This is a deep cut, Joe. It needs stitches. I better go get Papa." She rose to her feet, but Little Joe grabbed her arm with his left hand, his eyes wild with fear.

"No, Josie!" he practically screamed at her.

"Joe, I have to. That arm needs attention."

"You can't!" the boy sputtered. "If you tell Uncle Jacob, he'll tell Pa, and Pa'll know I was up in the tree after he told me not to. And I will be in so much trouble."

"Guess you should have thought of that before you climbed the tree."

"He'll kill me, Josie. And my death will be on your head."

Josie rolled her eyes. Little Joe could be more melodramatic than the girls at school. "What do you suggest, then, if you're so smart?"

"You do it."

"Me?!"

"Yeah!" Little Joe insisted. "You're practically a doctor; Uncle Jacob said so. Can't you do it?"

Josie bit her lower lip. "I don't know, Joe," she said uncertainly. "I have practiced on some old hides Papa gave me, but I've never stitched up a live person before."

"How different can it be, really?" Joe contended. He looked directly into her face, his big green eyes welling up with tears and his bottom lip trembling. "Please? Try?"

Josie heaved a long sigh. He looked so pathetic, but something told her she was not the first person to receive Joseph Cartwright's injured-puppy look. "Wait here," she said, defeated. "And keep pressure on that wound!" Despite the July heat, she ran full-out back to the house, praying the entire way that the adults would still be fussing with materials for the new house and would not notice her return.

She was relieved when she arrived at the house to discover that the older Cartwrights were still occupied with their work. There was a horse tied up in the front yard that Josie recognized as belonging to Hop Sing's cousin Li, but she knew they would be sitting in the kitchen having tea. If she was careful, she just might pull this off.

Before opening the front door, she used what little moisture remained in her mouth to spit on the creaky middle hinge Little Joe had warned her about. She beamed triumphantly when the door opened with nary a squeak. Josie slipped soundlessly into the house and crept down the hall to Ben's bedroom, where her parents were staying. Feeling like a thief, Josie unlatched her father's black medical bag and pulled out a bottle of silver nitrate, some bandages, a spool of catgut, and a needle. Guilt ran her over like a stampede of cattle. Jacob had imparted to his daughter the importance of staying out of his medical bag – there were things in there that could be harmful – and Josie knew she was stealing. But she thought of Little Joe sitting under the oak tree trying to staunch the bleeding gash on his arm and shoved the catgut and the needle – safely wrapped up in the bandages – into her pockets, re-latched Jacob's bag, and slipped out of the room. She stopped in the boys' bedroom to grab a fresh shirt for Little Joe – she tied this around her waist by its sleeves – and then headed back into the common room.

She was nearly out the front door, when she realized there was something odd about the voices coming from the kitchen. One of them was clearly Hop Sing, but also clearly not Hop Sing. Curiosity got the better of her, and Josie crept closer to the kitchen doorway, being careful to stay out of sight.

"Do not worry, Li," she heard Hop Sing say, "Henry Clay will ensure California enters the Union as a single free state. It won't make the Southerners happy, but I'm sure he will come up with a consolation for them."

Josie wrinkled her nose, trying to deduce exactly what was off about Hop Sing's voice. When she finally figured it out, her mouth dropped open with a soft popping sound. She clamped a hand over the offending orifice, but the damage was already done.

"One moment, Li," Hop Sing said. Eight years of living with Cartwright boys had given him the sharpest senses on the continent.

Josie's heart pounded as she heard a chair scrape across the wooden kitchen floor and then Hop Sing's soft footfalls coming closer to her hiding place next to the supper table. There was nothing for it. Concealing the bottle of silver nitrate behind her back, she stepped into view of the kitchen doorway just as Hop Sing reached it from the other side.

"Hiya, Hop Sing!" she said brightly.

The cook narrowed his eyes and gazed at the little girl suspiciously.

"What happen to Little Joe?" he asked in his usual pidgen.

Josie knew she was caught and decided to go for broke. "What happened to your accent?" she challenged.

Hop Sing's eyebrows shot up. "You overheard," he said, returning to the perfect English she had heard him use mere moments before. Josie said nothing but gave him a wry smile. "Josie, you need to understand something." Hop Sing pulled a chair out from the supper table and sat down facing the girl. He rubbed his temples under his pillbox hat. "Mr. Cartwright is a good man, but it would not be… appropriate for him to hear me speak this way. Do you understand?" The puzzled look on Josie's face made it plain that she did not. "How can I explain?" He stared up at the ceiling. "Josie, white folks tolerate the Chinese in this country because they believe they are intellectually superior to us. This is a charade we maintain in order to keep ourselves safe and employed. If we were to make it known that we are intelligent, capable people, we would find ourselves even more unwelcome than we already are. Does that make sense?"

This time it did. "It's like the black people back home," Josie mused. "They play dumb so they do not get beat up in the streets. So people don't feel like they're dangerous."

"Exactly!" Hop Sing said, smiling. "So I will make a bargain with you. If you promise never to tell anyone how you heard me speak today, I will not breathe a word about the bottle of liniment you have hidden behind your back, which I assume is for a certain curly-headed boy of our mutual acquaintance."

Josie smiled sheepishly. "Deal," she said, extending her hand to Hop Sing, who shook it.

"You better run along," the cook said. "I expect Little Joe is anxiously awaiting your return."

Josie grinned again and raced out the front door, leaving Hop Sing wiping his brow at his near miss.

The little girl sprinted back to her cousin, who was sitting leaned back against the trunk of the dead oak with his hand pressed firmly over the cut on his arm.

"How you doing, Joe?" Josie asked anxiously. The boy had grown awfully pale in her absence, and Josie wished she had not wasted time eavesdropping on Hop Sing.

"Ok," he said shakily.

Josie removed the blood-soaked sleeve and checked the wound. Fortunately, the bleeding had stopped, but Little Joe had lost a lot of blood, especially for such a small boy. Josie grabbed her canteen and a small brown-paper package from where she had abandoned them next to the pond. She unscrewed the canteen's lid, took a couple quick swigs, and handed the canteen to Joe with orders to drink up. He took the canteen and drank deeply while Josie unwrapped the package, which contained a half-dozen sugar cookies Hop Sing had sent along with them after lunch. She handed one of them to Joe.

"Eat this. It will make you feel better."

Little Joe gratefully accepted the cookie and jammed it into his mouth. While he chewed, Josie pulled the bandages, needle, and catgut out of her pockets. Joe swallowed his cookie, and Josie used the silver nitrate and the canteen's remaining water to flush out the cut. Joe gasped and lost what little color was returning to his face as the medicine set his arm afire.

"I'm sorry," Josie said gloomily. "I have to clean it out."

"I know. Just hurry up, ok?"

"I'll try."

Once she was satisfied the wound was clean, Josie cut a long length of catgut and threaded it through the needle. Little Joe's eyes went wide, and his cookie churned in his stomach. Josie read the fear so plain on his face and suggested that he not watch. Joe nodded bravely and turned his face away from his injured arm and squeezed his eyes shut. Josie surveyed the cut and decided to start at the end closest to Little Joe's elbow. Then she could sew him up from left to right, just like writing a sentence. She took a deep breath, said a silent prayer, and poked the needle through her cousin's skin. Joe squeaked at this first stab of pain, and a single tear squeezed out of the corner of his clenched right eye. Josie bit back tears herself. She knew this had to be done, but she hated to cause Little Joe pain. She reminded herself that this was Joe's own fault and refocused on the work at hand. In her head she chanted, "In one side, out the other, make a diagonal path to the next spot."

After what seemed like an eternity to Josie and Little Joe but was really mere minutes, Josie tied off the thread and snipped off the excess. She took a clean bandage and carefully wrapped up the arm.

"It's ok," she told Joe. "You can look now."

Little Joe glanced down at his bandaged appendage and let out a long, shuddering breath. "That wasn't so bad."

Josie saw the tears still welled up in her cousin's eyes and knew he was just trying to be brave. She leaned over and gave him a big hug, being careful to avoid his bandaged arm. Little Joe wrapped his good arm around her and hugged her back.

"Thanks," he said.

"Any time."

Josie broke away and gave Little Joe another cookie. After the cookie and some water from his own canteen, Joe felt a little better and the color returned to his cheeks. Josie helped him into his clean shirt, and the two children sat together under the tree, polishing off the remainder of the cookies.

At length, Little Joe glanced up at the sun. "We better get back. It'll look suspicious if we're late for supper."

A horrible thought struck Josie. "But we don't have any fish!"

"Oh," Joe said dismissively, "no one would really expect us to come home with anything from this old pond."

Josie was about to ask him why, then, they had bothered to attempt fishing in the first place, but after a month in Joe's company, Josie knew better than to expect his decisions to be logical, so she kept her mouth shut.

Little Joe rose slowly to his feet, and Josie stood by, ready to catch him if he got dizzy. But Joe took a couple of deep breaths and held firm. They gathered up their fishing poles, canteens, and the brown paper from the cookies and started for home.

"Oh, wait!" Josie said. She rushed back to the pond, used a stick to dig a small hole next to the oak tree, and buried the remains of Little Joe's ruined shirt. Joe looked on approvingly.

"Good idea," he praised, and the cousins set off toward the house.

For most of the evening, it seemed they would get away with their little escapade. They had arrived home with just enough time before the adults returned for Josie to replace her father's medical supplies, and at dinner, Josie was careful to sit on Little Joe's right side so no one would unwittingly bump his stitches. Though the evening was warm, Little Joe kept his shirtsleeves rolled all the way down to his wrists, but no one seemed to notice; they were all too busy talking about the new house. Josie and Joe shared several knowing smiles during the meal. Things were going great.

Right up to the point they didn't.

Everyone had finished their meals, and Hop Sing was bringing out coffee. Disinterested in coffee, Little Joe and Josie asked to be excused. After receiving permission, they carried their dishes into the kitchen and then scampered past the table again as they made their way to the sitting area, where they intended to play checkers until bedtime. As Little Joe passed his father, Ben remembered the children's fishing trip that afternoon and caught Little Joe's right forearm to stop him so he could ask if they had had any luck.

Ben's strong hand clamped down right on top of Little Joe's stitches. Joe blanched and let out a wheezing "ooooo" sound like a dying steam engine. Josie froze mid-step, her supper suddenly unsettled.

"Joseph, whatever's the matter?" Concern creased Ben Cartwright's tanned face as his hand reflexively sprang open to release his son's arm.

"Nothing, Pa," Little Joe gasped out, cradling his injured arm. "Just jammed my wrist this afternoon. It's fine."

Jacob immediately rose from his chair. "Here, son, let me take a look at it."

Little Joe took two steps backward, away from his father and approaching uncle. "No, sir!" he exclaimed, a little too loudly. "It's fine, really."

Now everyone's suspicions were raised. The three oldest Cartwrights stared expectantly at Little Joe, while Adam and Hoss smirked at each other. They could hardly wait to hear what their baby brother had gotten into this time.

"Joseph," Ben said, "show your uncle your arm."

Joe thought his father's soft tone was worse than if Ben had yelled at him. With a despairing glance at Josie, Little Joe reluctantly rolled up his sleeve.

"Good heavens!" Ben thundered when he saw the bandage that concealed most of his youngest son's forearm. "What happened?"

Joe seemed to have lost his voice, so Jacob walked over to the boy and gently unwrapped the curiously familiar-looking bandage. A row of even stitches winked up at him from his nephew's arm. Jacob looked over at his older brother and raised an eyebrow.

"Joe," Dr. Cartwright began, "who gave you these stitches?"

Ben's gaze shot over to his middle son. "Hoss, did you stitch him up?"

Hoss wiped the smirk off his face. "No, sir! Pa, you know I wouldn't sew him up without tellin' you first. Besides," he glanced at the stitches, "that's a lot prettier than anything I woulda done."

Ben had to accept the truth behind this statement. "Well," he said impatiently, "if Jacob didn't stitch him up, and you didn't stitch him up, then who did?!"

All eyes drifted over to Josie, who was tiptoeing out of sight behind Ben's blue armchair.

"What?" she said innocently.

"Josephine Elizabeth, come here," Jacob ordered.

Josie's heart sank as she slunk over to her father.

Jacob pointed to Little Joe's arm. "Did you do these stitches?" he asked quietly. Like Little Joe, Josie would have felt better if her father had shouted at her. His soft tone was laced with disappointment.

"Yes sir," she whispered, staring down at her boots.

"Am I to assume this means you went into my medical bag without permission?"

"Yes sir," Josie whispered again.

Jacob pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "If you knew Joe needed stitches, why didn't you come for me?"

Little Joe shot Josie a look of sheer terror and shook his head, silently begging her not to tell. But Josie knew she was caught, and lying would only get both of them into more trouble.

"Because," she began, then faltered. "Because…" she ended in a sigh.

Hannah had now risen and joined her husband, and they both stared down at their daughter, waiting for her to continue.

Seeing his cousin under interrogation on his behalf filled Little Joe with unbearable guilt. "Because she didn't want to get me into trouble!" he blurted.

All eyes shifted back to Little Joe, who reddened with shame.

"I fell out of that oak tree by the duck pond and gashed my arm on a root," he confessed. Tears spilled out of his eyes. "I talked Josie into stitching me up herself so I wouldn't get in trouble."

"You're in trouble now anyway, young man!" Ben thundered. "I specifically told you to stay out of that tree, for this very reason. You're lucky you didn't break your neck. Why did you disobey me?"

"I was tryin' to see where the fish were," he mumbled. Hoss and Adam snorted with laughter. Ben shot them both a stern look, and the two young men bit their lower lips and avoided looking at one another for fear they would break into uncontrollable hysterics.

"Josephine!" Hannah cried in horror. "You're older. Why didn't you stop him?"

Josie opened her mouth to reply, but Ben cut her off.

"Hannah, don't hold Josie responsible. When Little Joe gets a harebrained idea like this, the Lord Almighty himself is hard-pressed to stop him." He turned to his son and niece. "But since the two of you clearly need more supervision, you'll spend tomorrow helping Hop Sing with the housework."

"Yes, sir," the downcast children replied.

Ben turned to his older two boys. "Adam, Hoss, first thing tomorrow I want the two of you to go down to the duck pond and chop down that tree."

"Yes, sir," they said.

Josie fought back tears. She had disappointed her entire family, and now she and Adam would not be able to go out riding together tomorrow like they had planned. Josie did not particularly enjoy riding – she still felt unsteady in the saddle – but she had looked forward to getting Adam to herself one last time before she and her parents departed for home.

Jacob was still examining his daughter's handiwork. "What did you use to clean this out?" he asked her.

"Silver nitrate and water," she said.

"Also from my medical bag," he muttered, but a half-smile played about Jacob's lips as he nodded in approval. He rewrapped Little Joe's arm, and he and Ben sent the two children to bed early as part of their punishment. As she trudged toward the bedroom, Josie heard her father apologize to his brother.

"Ben, I am so sorry. I never would have let her stitch up your boy."

"It's alright, Jacob," Ben replied. "No harm done it would seem."

"Yeah," Jacob chuckled. "You have to admit, that little girl did a damn fine job. Those are some of the neatest stitches I've ever seen."

Josie smiled. She would serve her punishment tomorrow, but her father had forgiven her.