Chapter 10
As Doc Martin pulled away the soiled bandages, Ben Cartwright groaned and pushed the Doctor's hands away. Joe took his father's hands in his. "Don't fight the Doc, Pa, he's just changing your bandages."
He was answered by a grimace and another groan.
"I know it hurts, Pa, but he's almost done. It won't be that long." Joe looked at the exposed wound and winced. He looked back at Ben's face. "Pa?"
Ben mumbled in response, not wanting to wake up fully.
"Pa, I been meanin' to tell ya, Adam's becoming a real tyrant. He's got Hoss and me sleeping in the barn, and he's only giving us the slop-bucket to eat from." As Joe said this, he winked at the doctor, who was giving him a disapproving look. Joe had not yet gotten the desired response from his father, and so he continued. "Adam gave away all the living room furniture and replaced it with this hideous imported stuff. Even your favorite chair!"
Joe was rewarded by his father opening one eye in a "c'mon, you've got to be kidding" expression. "Very funny, Joseph," Ben croaked.
Joe flashed a broad smile. "Got your attention, didn't I, Pa?"
Ben gasped as the doctor moved him slightly. "Aren't you done with that yet?!" He snapped at Paul. He pulled his hands out of Joe's.
"Well, you're mighty feisty today, Ben. I'll take that as a sign you're doing better. There. Finished." He scrutinized his patient, placed the back of his hand on Ben's forehead. "How are you feeling?"
"Like somebody shot me," Ben quipped.
"Do you think you can hold down some food?" The doctor asked.
Ben nodded, a little ashamed of his harshness with the doctor.
"I'll bring you some broth." The doctor left the room.
Ben glanced at his youngest son. "How long has it been, son?"
Joe's smile was replaced with sincerity. "Five days, Pa."
"Five days?" Ben was incredulous.
"Yeah, the Marshall came and took away what was left of Fletcher's gang yesterday."
Ben's face betrayed sorrow. "And...Cain?"
A familiar voice boomed from the doorway. "I'll tell you what happened to him," the Sheriff volunteered, as he stalked into the room.
"Roy!" Ben smiled, as he allowed Roy to pat his hand.
"I'll go see about that broth," Joe said, leaving the room hurriedly.
Roy released Ben's hand and sat down. "It turns out, that the man you hired as a ranch hand wasn't the right man. There was nothing I could do but turn him loose," Roy explained.
Ben was not pleased. His friend, the Sheriff, sworn to uphold law, was lying. "Roy, you saw the poster, you know that-"
"Now, I don't want to hear any complaints about it, Mister. I made a mistake, it was the wrong man, that's the end of it."
There was a moment of silence. "He saved your life," Ben whispered.
"And yours, old friend," Roy said. "In my experience, a murderer doesn't risk his own life to save someone else, someone he barely knows."
"Yes, I suppose you're right," Ben conceded. "Could I see him? I'd like to thank him."
"I wish you could, Ben, but after I released him, well, he looked in on you here, and said goodbye to your boys, and headed outta town. I guess with the Marshall comin', he couldn't take the chance of getting mistaken for that murderer again."