"I tell ya, I've never been so happy to be assigned to fixin' fences," Candy told Joe, "For awhile there, I thought I was turning into a book keeper."
The wolf had finally caused his trouble out at the north pasture. He'd blasted into the herd and sent them running. They'd crashed through a fence and it had taken hours to get them rounded up. Joe and Candy, newly healthy according to the doc, were assigned the job of fixing the fence. Hoss said it was only fair, seeing as they'd missed out on the actual stampede in the first place.
"Maybe you'll start using words like regular folks again, huh?" Joe suggested.
"I dunno, I thought I might run for office. Likely I could impress the whole town with my big, fancy words."
"Or send 'em runnin' for cover," Joe said.
"Yeah," Candy grinned agreeably, "Or that."
For the first time in what felt like a long time, Joe was up on Cochise's back. He figured he'd worked out whatever sourness those thieves had put in, and Cochise was back to accepting a tug from a lead rope just as nicely as any horse ever could. Everything seemed to have worked out just fine.
That is, until they rode to the spot where Cochise had been shot at. Far as Joe and Candy were concerned, the horse suddenly halted and reared for no discernible reason, letting out a frightened squeal and then taking the bit in his teeth and bolting. He didn't go far, because Joe expertly got him back in hand, then turned him around.
Cochise's squeal and panicked flight had gotten Candy's horse worked up. The chestnut had reared, trying to pitch his rider. By the time Joe had Cochise aimed back to where he'd bolted from, Candy was turning his own horse in a tight circle, trying to get him back under control.
"What the heck got into him?" Candy asked, not looking up from quieting his horse.
"I dunno," Joe replied, "But I'm gonna ride him back, see if he does it again."
"If you're doin' that, I'm gettin' off the trail," Candy said, "I've had just about enough of horses rearin' at me for one lifetime."
"Cooch didn't rear at you," Joe protested, "He just reared in your general vicinity."
"Close enough," Candy replied, and reined his horse sharply off the trail.
Joe didn't stop to ponder Candy's new found unease around skittish horses. He turned Cochise back and waited for the tell-tale tensing of muscles, turning of ears and tossing of head that he'd failed to register the first time. But nothing happened. They rode past the spot without incident. So Joe turned Cochise around again, and started him back. This time the horse reacted, just as negatively as the first time. But this time Joe had a better hold on him, and Cochise merely half-reared and pawed at the air before coming back down, snorting and shaking his head.
It was clear that, to the horse's way of thinking, the direction he was headed mattered where the spot being alarming or not was concerned. It was not unusual for an animal to have such a specific fear, and Joe knew the solution to this was the same as the solution to the lead rope. While Candy looked on, Joe rode the horse around and around, repeating the process again and again, being patient and gentle with the horse every time, quieting him with expert hand and voice, until finally Cochise passed by the spot passively, only the tilting of his ears indicating any disquiet.
"I hope there aren't too many more bad spots like that," Joe said, "I'd hate to have to ride another horse because Cooch is too skittish."
"And if there are, just know I'm not takin' the blame for any work we don't have time to get done because you're ridin' that fool horse around in circles," Candy replied.
"Now, now," Joe said in a pacifying tone, "Let's not start fighting like brothers. I've already got two, and I don't need another one tellin' me what to do."
"I don't believe you've ever done anything your brothers told you in your life," Candy said.
"You haven't met Adam," Joe told him.
"No, but I've met you," Candy replied, "And that's all I need to know."
Joe started to reply to that, then he stopped to think for a minute. Finally, he smiled and laughed.
"You know, you're right?" Joe said, "I never did what Adam told me. Might've been better off if I had, but don't you dare let that get around."
"Never mind that," Candy said, "Let's just go get that fence fixed. I'd like to be through before dark."
Candy's concern proved to be a valid one. They finished just as it was getting too dark to see well enough to work, using the repair supplies that had been driven up ahead of them. They rode back in darkness, and that made Joe a bit nervous. He didn't like riding at night. There was too much out there that he couldn't see. Candy seemed unconcerned. Something told Joe that Candy had done a lot of night traveling, and in territory far more hostile than the friendly trails of the Ponderosa.
"Nobody's at the bunkhouse right now," Joe said, "Why don't you come and have dinner with us?"
"Sure," Candy replied, "I'll put the horses up and be in in a minute."
Joe clapped him on the shoulder to express his appreciation of that, and then went inside.
"Is that you, Joe?" Ben called from his office.
"Yeah, Pa," Joe replied, taking off his hat and gun belt before proceeding into the house.
"Candy with you?" Ben's voice inquired.
"He'll be in in a minute, Pa. He's puttin' the horses up," Joe answered, then asked as he walked into the office, "What's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing's the matter," Ben replied, setting aside the papers he'd been shuffling, "It's just that I had a very interesting visit with David Beckett earlier this afternoon while you were out."
"Oh?" Joe asked, "He still blaming Candy for that lost horse?"
Ben sat back in his chair and sighed, while Joe perched on the edge of the desk.
David Beckett had never openly said anything, he was more polite than that, but nobody had missed the looks he'd been giving Candy since the loss of Firebrand whenever he was around. It was probably easier to blame the hired help than the son of his friend, especially if he never actually said anything out loud.
"Well that's the thing," Ben said after a moment of silence, "It seems the horse has been found. Alive."
An incredulous look settled onto Joe's face and he stood up.
"Who found him?"
"Well, it seems he wandered into a cattle pen belonging to a rancher a few miles outside of Bittner. The rancher saw the brand, and recognized a valuable piece of horseflesh when he saw it, and has been looking for the owner ever since. Somebody in town must've remembered us. In any case, a wire was sent and David was all set to go and retrieve his horse," Ben paused, then added, "But I talked him out of it."
"What?" Joe asked, still standing and looking more perplexed than ever, "Why?"
"Because I convinced him that you and Candy were the ones who should bring that horse in."
"Pa..." Joe started to protest, but Ben cut him off.
"I know it may not mean much to you," Ben said, holding up his hand, "But you and Candy were responsible for bringing that animal in. Even if that means nothing to you, you must realize what it means to Candy. And to David as well."
"Of course it means a lot to me," Joe protested, "That isn't the point. Pa, you haven't seen Candy around edgy horses like I have. We ask him to handle that Firebrand again and there's no tellin' what might happen. Send me, send me with anybody... but let Candy alone. I think he's had enough of Firebrand."
"What about Firebrand?" Candy inquired innocently, having just entered the house without Joe or Ben noticing that the door had even opened.
"You know, you're gonna have to work on your entrances," Joe said, "You're liable to get yourself shot if you don't stop sneaking everywhere."
"I don't sneak," Candy told him, not bothering to point out that neither Ben nor Joe was armed at present, "And don't change the subject. What about Firebrand?"
"He's been found," Ben said, "Joe doesn't want to go get him."
"Pa, that's not what I said and you know it," Joe argued, "What I said was-"
Ben interrupted him, "He seems to think the both of you have had enough of Firebrand."
"And what have you got to say about it?" Candy asked, looking directly at Ben.
Joe gave Candy an angry look, which the man flatly ignored. Joe might have been Candy's friend, but the world-wise ranch hand never forgot who the ultimate boss of the ranch was.
"It seems to me that the two of you left a job unfinished," Ben replied, "And you ought to finish it."
Candy looked at him for a long, quiet moment.
Then he nodded curtly and said, "Okay."
"Candy..." Joe began.
"Look, if you want to argue with your father, have at it," Candy said calmly, perhaps a little too much so, "I've got to pack my travel gear."
Candy looked from Ben to Joe and back again, as though checking to see if either of them were inclined to stop him. And then he went out, leaving Joe with his mouth open and nothing to say. Candy knew as well as anyone that Joe was not going to win an argument with his father.
"Did he just-"
"Joe, I think he just put you in your place," Ben replied neutrally.
"Well yeah, but-"
"Joe," Ben interrupted, "You've got to understand a man like Candy. He takes things like this very seriously. To you, it's just a horse, nothing more. An expensive horse yes, but a horse nonetheless. But to Candy, delivering that horse is more than that. A lot more."
"How do you mean?" Joe asked curiously, overlooking the suggestion that it wasn't a matter of pride and honor with him to get that horse back.
"Joe, what do you suppose you could do to lose your home here?" Ben asked of his son.
Joe cocked his head, looking very confused, then vaguely concerned. He thought hard about all the mistakes he'd made, all the reckless things he'd done, all the dangerous actions he'd taken, all the disastrously bad ideas he'd had, all the times he'd let his temper get the better of him. He thought very hard, clearly seeking the answer and not finding it anywhere among his memories.
"I... well... I guess maybe if I murdered somebody...?" Joe spoke it as a question.
"And what about Candy?" Ben asked, not responding in the affirmative or the negative to Joe's inquiry.
"I dunno, he's stood by us when things got hot more times than I can count. He's certainly done his share to help me out of some scrapes. He's a decent cowhand, and a good friend, and there's nobody better to have stand by you in either a gunfight or a brawl. I guess he'd have to do something pretty bad to get you to fire him."
"You know that, and I know that," Ben said, "But Candy doesn't. I don't believe that man's ever had a home before, and the more comfortable he gets here, the more he's afraid of losing it. He thinks of his value to us in terms of dollars, how much money he makes sure gets into our pockets. And so he's concerned about cattle, horses, trees, and all that, just as much as any good hand would be. And that's all to the good, he's very capable at what he does and whatever he doesn't know he's eager to learn. But that horse represents a huge loss, not just financially but in potential damage to my friendship with David. You have to remember that Candy probably wasn't raised with the same values as you, and all he knows is how much money means to people. He doesn't know how to think about it any other way. He won't feel like he's done right by us until he sees that horse safely into David Beckett's hands. Because of the money, and because it was me that told him to do it."
Joe frowned and thought it over, "I guess I understand, Pa... a little. I've been wanting to go back and look for that horse ever since we lost him, even though I thought for sure he'd died somewhere out in the desert. And I haven't got anywhere near as much to lose as Candy thinks he has. All I've got to lose is my pride, and that's not much in comparison."
"No," Ben replied, "It's not."
They set out early the next morning, and they were riding fast. They didn't want to over-exert their horses, but they were concerned about how long anyone could or would keep hold of Firebrand for them. They were concerned about losing him yet again, perhaps for good this time. And they were concerned that some innocent, unsuspecting person might be killed by the horse before they got to him.
And so they rode out after him just about as fast as they dared, though Joe found he did have to rein Cochise in a touch because the pinto was eager for a good long gallop after having been penned up so long during Joe's recovery and his own rehabilitation, whereas Candy's horse was happy with a more neutral and easy gait. Joe supposed maybe the horses were also picking up on the eagerness of their riders and Candy was just a might more easy in mind than Joe was.
It was a long ride, but it was made all the longer because every time one of Cochise's hooves touched dirt, Joe couldn't help but think of everything Firebrand might do in the second it took between Cochise lifting one foot and putting another down on the road. He couldn't help it, he'd seen how Firebrand could seem all passive and gentle-like, then turn mean as a rabid animal without warning. He'd seen the deadly intent in the horse's eyes, seen it in the flash of his teeth, the strike of his hooves.
Joe had avoided injury from Firebrand only because of his experience, quick reflexes and the fact that he had Candy at his back. Candy had avoided death by an even narrower margin. They couldn't expect Firebrand to continue misjudging his opportunities, nor could they expect someone to always be there to interfere with his killer ambitions at just the right moment. It wasn't possible for such luck to last.
Sooner or later, they were certain, Firebrand would turn on the men who held him. They wanted to be there to make sure he never got that chance.
The ranch was closer than Bittner itself, but it took a bit of doing to find their way onto the land. Once they found a fence, they figured they must be getting close. They slowed their horses, so as to look less suspicious to any cowboys who might be riding around. The best way to look suspicious and get yourself shot was by skulking in shadows, but galloping like the Devil himself was after you was another good way to take a crack at getting an early grave.
They found a rider waiting for them on a ridge.
"You Cartwright?" the young man inquired.
"I'm Joe Cartwright," Joe answered, "This here is Candy. We were told you've got a horse of ours."
"Name's Sam Fog," the man replied, "And we got your horse alright."
Joe and Candy exchanged wary glances.
"Follow me," Sam instructed, then turned his horse and kicked the animal into a refined trot.
Joe and Candy did as he asked. It wasn't a long ride to a ranch house with a barn to one side of it.
"Corral's out back," Sam said, "Pa's waitin' there with the horse."
He led them around back of the house, where they found an older man standing and leaning on the fence of the corral. Sure enough, Firebrand was there. But what halted them in their tracks was the fact that the horse had reached his head out so Sam's father could rub his forehead. Firebrand was gently lipping at the man's bandana and looked utterly serene and so unlike the beast they'd met that they hardly recognize him. In fact, had Joe not known horses as he did, he would have sworn it had to be a different animal entirely. The difference was like day and night.
"That your horse?" Sam inquired, taking in the startled looks.
"I... uh... well... yes, I think so," Joe stammered.
"Well, you better come have a look-see and make sure," Sam said, getting off his horse.
"Yes, I guess I better," Joe said, dismounting and handing his reins over to Candy, who didn't appear at all recovered from the profound shock of seeing Firebrand.
"Name's Fog," the man near the corral said, stepping away from the horse to shake Joe's hand, "Charlie Fog. I see you met my son Sam."
"Yes sir," Joe said, "I'm Joe Cartwright. Guy on the horse is Candy."
"Howdy," Candy said, managing to wipe off his stunned bunny look and touching the brim of his hat.
"How'd you come to find our horse?" Joe asked, gesturing towards Firebrand, "We didn't expect to see him again."
"Sam found him in with the cattle after the storm," Charlie replied, "Looked like he'd busted in to get at the water. Seemed to have been in a fight with another horse, and been bit by a snake too."
"Bitten by a snake?" Joe asked, his brow furrowing.
The horse looked healthy enough to him, but of course he knew it had been enough time that Firebrand would have long since recovered, as obviously the bite hadn't killed him.
"Yeah," Sam put in, "He was limpin' pretty bad, and boy was he glad to see me. I doctored him up as best I could, kept him in a stall 'til he got his feet under him properly again. Pa saw the brand on him."
"We ain't horse ranchers here," Charlie took up the story, "And I ain't no expert on horses. But I can tell an expensive animal when I see one. I figured he must belong to somebody, and that somebody would be wanting him back pretty dang bad."
"You could say that," Joe said, "Can I take a look at him?"
"Suit yourself," Charlie gestured towards the corral.
Joe cautiously let himself in. Firebrand had never gone for him when he approached, only when he moved away. Still, the strange behavior of the horse puzzled him, and he felt sure the animal just hadn't been triggered into an attack somehow. He couldn't imagine the horse had changed so much.
On a close look, Joe saw the scars on Firebrand's chest and shoulder, clearly from fighting another stallion, likely a mustang. He saw too the scar left by the snake bite, which had probably swollen up something awful. Firebrand withstood the inspection without complaint. Then came the time to move away. Joe backed up, waiting for a flicker of that old fury, but the horse stood nice and quiet.
"That's the horse, alright," Joe said.
Charlie and Sam, noting Joe's caution, looked at each other and shrugged.
"Well, you're sure welcome to have him back," Charlie said, "Nice as he is, he ain't a cow pony, and that's the only kinda horse we got any use for here."
Joe glanced at Candy, and saw the stunned look had returned at the suggestion that Firebrand was 'nice'. Joe felt the same way.
Candy took charge of Firebrand when they left, because the big bay shied away from the little pinto, who showed no sign of malice, assuming he even remembered Firebrand. Candy kept the horse snugged up this time, unwilling to make the same mistake he'd made before.
But Firebrand went along with them gentle and quiet-like. Neither of them believed nor trusted it.
The Fogs had offered to let them stay the night, but Joe and Candy preferred to camp out on the trail. Something about having Firebrand near other people made them nervous.
"Do you suppose that horse really has changed?" Candy asked when they bedded down for the night.
"I can't figure it," Joe replied with a shrug, "He hasn't tried for either of us all day. To look at him, you'd think he was just like any other horse."
Candy checked the coffee he was brewing, then poured a cup for Joe and passed it to him before pouring one for himself.
"Well," Candy said finally, "Maybe he just got tired of fendin' for himself, decided maybe people aren't so bad as he thought."
"Yeah," Joe replied doubtfully, "Maybe."
Joe was surprised to find Candy so mild in the presence of Firebrand. He would have bet just about anything that Candy wouldn't have wanted to touch the horse with a ten foot pole after what had happened, much less lead him. After all, this was the horse that had tried to kill him, and very nearly succeeded in the endeavor, come much closer to it than any of them had realized at the time.
But he'd been sort of cool and collected all day, much more at ease than Joe would have expected.
It wasn't until late that night, when he was woken by a sound he didn't at first recognize that Joe realized it was nothing but a facade. The sound was Candy muttering in his sleep. Urgently, fearfully. None of what he said was entirely clear, except that he called Firebrand by name. Joe didn't think it was his place to try and wake Candy, but he knew the ranch hand was having a nightmare, and its contents were no mystery. Joe lay in the dark and listened, resolving that he had to find a way to save his friend from that misery. Somehow, he didn't know how, he was going to end the nightmare that was Firebrand, without having to kill the horse in the process.
In the morning, neither of them mentioned it, and each had slept so poorly the night before that he failed to notice the other's weariness. What they did notice was that Joe happened to walk by right in front of Firebrand to saddle Cochise, and the big bay horse barely even looked at him.
Joe had set the saddle blanket on Cochise's back before he even realized what he'd just done. Then he looked over his shoulder at Firebrand, who looked back expectantly. Then Joe looked at Candy, saddling his own horse. Candy merely shrugged, and continued with what he was doing.
They made it home before noon, and turned Firebrand loose in a corral temporarily, so they wouldn't have to go and retrieve him from the larger pasture when David Beckett arrived.
"I just don't understand it," Joe said while he groomed Cochise, "If I didn't know better, I wouldn't believe that's the same horse."
"Well if it's not, I think we got the better deal," Candy replied.
"Candy, a horse doesn't just change character like that all of a sudden," Joe said, leaning against Cochise's shoulder and emphasizing his words by waving the brush he had been using in Candy's direction, "To get a horse to reform like that would take a lot of time, and a lot of experience. Even then, if it were my horse, I woulda shot him for what he did to you. A horse like that can never be trusted."
"You sayin' a horse can't change?" Candy inquired, knowing Joe and his family's fondness for taking hard cases -both man and animal- and turning them around.
"No, I'm not saying that," Joe said, beginning to brush Cochise again, "But that wasn't a horse, that was a... a... a... wolf. And a wolf doesn't turn into a sheep overnight."
"I think you're mixing your metaphors," Candy said.
"I am not," Joe disagreed, "And if I was, how would you know?"
"Same way I know you have to aim the bristles at the horse if you want to get him shiny," Candy answered.
Joe looked at the brush, and realized he'd turned it over in his hand while he was gesturing with it, and was now scrubbing ineffectually at the horse's coat with the wooden back of it. He hastily turned the brush around.
"The mystery of that horse is really getting to you, isn't it?" Candy asked.
"No," Joe replied emphatically, "Maybe... a little. But only 'cause of you."
"Me?" Candy inquired, "What have I got to do with it?"
The reply was on Joe's lips, but he bit it back at the last second.
"Come on, out with it," Candy insisted, "You've been dancing around on eggshells whenever I so much as get near a horse, particularly that one. To look at you, one would think me bein' near that horse was a sign of the end times."
"It's just that..." Joe began, then cut himself off, gathered his thoughts and tried again, more softly this time, "It's that he hurt you, and I don't know why. I don't understand this horse at all."
"And that scares you?" Candy guessed.
"Doesn't it scare you?" Joe asked.
"Well sure it does," Candy answered, "But you're not the one that was pinned under another horse with Firebrand trying to stamp the life out of you. So why does he scare you so much?"
"Because..." Joe halted, and Candy prodded him again.
"Just spit it out, Joe."
"Because I'm afraid of what he might've taken from you."
Candy was silent for a long moment, and Joe thought he detected anger. But when Candy spoke, his voice was low and oddly soft, and he didn't quite look at Joe.
"You know, sometimes I don't understand you, Joe," Candy said, gazing fixedly at the back of his horse instead of Joe while he spoke, "Nobody's... ever looked out for me like you. You and your family. At first I thought you maybe believed that you... owed me something, for sticking it out with Wabuska. Maybe you thought I'd make a good cowhand..." he trailed off, then started again, and it was clearly hard for him, "But I just did my job, what I was asked to do, and paid to do. And... and you're still... you're still looking out for me."
He met Joe's eyes briefly, then looked away again, evidently seeing something that scared him. Scared him a lot more than Firebrand ever could.
"It's what friends do for each other," Joe said, "They look out for each other, even when they don't have to and haven't got anything to gain."
Candy's reply was so quiet Joe barely heard him say, "Not any of the friends I've had before."
