AN: Hoping everyone around the globe is keeping safe. Here's another chapter to help distract us from RL and as token of our gratitude for your ongoing support, it is a slightly longer one than our usual ;-)

Thank you to all of our readers and reviewers. To "honu59" - thank you for picking up our boo boos - we will endevour to fine comb these soon and do apologize for missing them. We appreciate and always look forward to your feedback each time we post :-)

VCS

Chapter 22:

As soon as the sun started to rise the next morning, true to his word, the first thing Ben did after checking in on his sons and Griff was head out to the icehouse with Billy. They wrapped Butch's body in a blanket and carried him out onto the buckboard on the back of a wagon. Ben was good friends with the coroner who also directed funerals and trusted him to take care for the burial arrangements without question.

Ben and Billy spoke very little along the way, and it worried Ben not knowing where the boy's head was at. He hoped that there would not be any trouble when it came time to take him in to the Sheriff's office as was the deal he made with Roy.

Once the burial was taken care of at the local cemetery outside the church and Billy was allowed time to say a few final words, Ben placed a hand on his arm.

"Billy, it's time."

Billy waited a moment before springing into action. He had it all planned out. He spun around fast and grabbed the gun out of Ben's holster before the older man could so much as twitch. "I ain't going to prison. You just let me go, Mr. Cartwright, and you'll never see me again."

"Billy, don't do this," Ben placated. Whatever the boy had done in his past, he wasn't a killer and he deserved a chance to make amends for his mistakes. In fact, he had already begun to do so the moment he chose to save the people Ben cared about.

"Please, just let me go," Billy pleaded, holding the gun out in front of him and stepping backward away from Ben.

"I can't let you do it. I'm not gonna let you run."

"I saved your life! I saved your family and even that cook!" Billy shouted angrily.

"I know. That's why now I'm gonna save yours."

Billy was taken aback by Cartwright's words. For a moment he had thought the only reason Ben was stopping him was to seek out justice, but now he wasn't so sure. Could he really mean what he said? "What do ya mean, saving my life?"

"You run and they'll hang you if they don't shoot you down first. Wherever it is you think you're goin' to, you'll never make it, so why don't you just hand over that gun."

"I'll take my chances!"

"And I'm not letting you take that chance."

"I'll shoot! I swear it, I will!" Billy raised the gun, pulled back the safety and aimed at Ben's chest.

Taking a gamble, Ben took two steps closer, his hands held out in front of him. "You can't keep on running."

"Don't come any closer!" Billy warned, his finger wavering over the trigger.

"You're not going to shoot." Ben continued to inch his way toward the boy.

Billy inched back, bumping into a gravestone, and losing his balance momentarily but it was enough time for Ben to lunge forward and grab his gun hand.

"You're not gonna shoot," Ben repeated, gently prying the weapon out of Billy's grasp.

The youth's shoulders sagged, and he allowed himself to be steered by Ben toward the wagon.

"It's gonna be alright, Billy."

The first thing Griff noticed was a nagging itch in his left hand. He instinctively reached out to scratch at it and was surprised to find a bulky material covered his whole left hand. The young man stared at his hand for a moment, before his eyes wandered, slowly realizing that he was in a bedroom located on the second floor of the ranch house. He thought back as to how he might have gotten there and without warning, the memories of the last few days flooded through him. He bolted upright and gasped at the sudden sharp pain in his left side. Trying to breathe through that sensation, Griff could feel the aches across his body makes themselves known as well, and he slumped backwards onto the bed.

"Jamie? Joe?" Griff wondered aloud.

"They are fine," an accented voice answered. Hop Sing stood from the chair he had previously occupied and placed a steady hand on Griff's chest prompting him to relax. "Tolivers all gone. Mr. Cartwright here. He come back with the Sheriff. We are safe."

"We are…" Griff struggled to process what Hop Sing just told him. "I was… How did I…?"

"You must relax," Hop Sing advised. "You were stabbed, beaten and your hand have infection."

"Stabbed?" Griff repeated incredulously. "Did that son of a…did he stab me? I don't remember that. Last thing I remember is…" He paused to reflect on the turn of events that led him to be incapacitated. "I was on top of Gabe, wailing on him something good. I thought I mighta killed him, and I…" Griff exhaled a breath shakily. "And I didn't care. In fact, I-I think I wanted to kill him." The truth of that fact shook Griff to the core, and he ran his free fingers through his hair a few times as a subconscious, self-soothing action. "Did I kill him?" He was not even sure he wanted to hear the answer if it confirmed that Gabe had been right about Griff all along in thinking that his time in prison had irreversibly changed Griff into a murderer.

Hop Sing quickly shook his head and said, "No, no. Alive and in jail where he belong."

"Oh. And everyone else?" he asked. "They're okay?"

"Safe and sound," reported Hop Sing. "I will get you broth, to build up strength now that you are awake. Mr. Cartwright will want to know you are up, too." He marched out of the room, leaving Griff alone for a moment to his thoughts.

"They are all safe," he muttered, feeling relief wash over him. "It's over."

"Griff," beamed Ben, striding into the room. "Hop Sing told me you had woken up. How are you feeling?" He had just returned from releasing Billy into Roy's custody to meet Paul back at the house. On his way home he had also sent a telegram to Hoss and Candy, knowing where they were due to make a stopover before their train continued to Boston.

"I guess, good," Griff said slowly, realizing that he was having so many conflicting feelings, he was unsure of what and how exactly he was feeling. He tried to shift and push himself up into a semi-seated position, but the agonizing pain that rippled through him returned and he cried out involuntarily.

"Easy now. Don't try to move about. Just lie still," Ben soothed and placed gentle hands over the young man's shoulders to keep him from tearing open his wound.

Beads of sweat broke out across Griff's forehead from the effort and the pain. "How… How bad?" he asked breathlessly.

"Bad enough, but with plenty of rest you're gonna be alright," Ben reassured, taking a seat by the bedside. "Doc will be up any minute to check in on you. He's with Joe and Jamie downstairs."

Griff nodded and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to subside but it didn't. He was also suddenly aware of how parched his throat and mouth were. "Water," he mumbled weakly.

Ben's heart reached out to the young man who was suffering terribly from his ordeal. "Griff, I'm gonna help you sit up a little. You ready?"

"Hmmm," Griff hummed, his breathing quickening placing more stress to his injured ribs. Bracing himself, he felt warm and sure hands helping his upper body up.

"Easy. You've got a couple of cracked ribs." Ben swiftly readjusted the pillows against the headboard and leaned Griff against them. The new position seemed to help ease some of the youth's discomfort when he heard him sigh and his breathing slowing to a more regular rhythm. Wringing out the cloth he had kept in a bowl on the bedside table, he gently dapped Griff's face and wiped away the perspiration. "Better?"

"Uh-huh… How did you… What happened to Cole and Billy?"

Ben poured some water from the pitcher into a glass and placed it to Griff's lips. "Drink slow. Easy now. It's a long story, but let's just say that if it hadn't been for Billy, none of us would be here to talk about it."

"What did he do? I don't understand."

"He saved our lives and that's all that matters," Ben replied simply and returned the empty glass to the table.

Griff yearned to know more. It seemed he had missed a great deal of what had happened but before he could ask, Ben had voiced a burning question of his own.

"Griff, what happened at the house while I was gone?"

Griff took a moment and thought about the events that took place before his showdown with Gabe. He wondered how much and if any had Jamie, Joe and Hop Sing already relayed. There was one event that stood out above all the rest and not in a positive way. Broaching around the subject, he explained most of the events, concluding with, "And it was really Hop Sing, he was the real hero. He poured boiling coffee over Gabe. Gave me the chance to take him on."

Ben raised his eyebrows and smiled fondly. He was aware of Hop Sing's involvement, but it made him even prouder of his longtime friend and cook to hear about him being hailed a hero by everyone who knew what he did. Noting that Griff had stopped talking, he probed further, "What happened before that?"

Griff dreaded answering the question he knew was burning in Ben's mind. No doubt he didn't get the answers he needed from Jamie and perhaps Joe was too out of it to remember much. "How much did Jamie tell you?"

"Nothing, and that's why I'm asking. He won't talk to me or anybody about it. He's shut himself off but Billy, well, he said some things and got Jamie pretty upset."

Griff's heart rate accelerated, and he suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. How was he going to explain he had almost knocked out Jamie with his own fist? The last punch he landed on the younger boy's jaw stayed on the surface of his thoughts and it replayed over and over. What was it that Billy told Ben? Clamming up, he took a defensive approach. "Did…what lies did Billy have coming outta his mouth?"

Ben saw the same wall he saw in Jamie's eyes when he had tried to get the teen to open up. He wanted Jamie and Griff to be able to talk to him. The last thing he wanted was for either of them to feel they had done anything wrong or to let it eat them up inside by keeping silent. "Billy didn't lie about anything. There were some things he told me about Gabe and what he made him and Cole do that got me thinking happened the same way between you and Jamie. Griff, I'm asking because I want you and Jamie to be able to talk about it and not feel ashamed or guilty."

Griff's defensive barriers immediately lifted higher and he tried to push himself off the pillows. "I did the only thing I could! I never meant… Never for Jamie to… Arghh!" His protests ended in another cry of pain and he fell back against the pillows, trying to catch his breath.

Ben placed a steady hand on the young man's shoulder. "Easy, Griff! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"I didn't mean to hurt him," Griff continued, breathlessly. "I hit him. Don't know how many times, but I hit him. I didn't know what else to do. I pulled back as much as I could but not...not all the time," the parolee admitted. "It still don't excuse or change what I did."

"Listen to me. Neither of you did anything wrong." Ben enveloped Griff's uninjured hand with his own. "You hear me?"

"I coulda broken his jaw!" Griff protested. "He went down on my last hit and… and… didn't get up."

"And because of you, you saved my son a worse fate," Ben countered. "I wanted to thank you, Griff, not crucify you. Do you understand?"

Griff shrugged and averted his gaze. "I'm just glad everyone is okay," he finally said. "So, let's drop it."

Ben frowned. Exactly what he feared was coming to pass and he refused to let Griff slip into himself any further, so he tried a different tactic. "But I want you to know this," he insisted. "Griff, my sons, both my sons are alive today because of you. I can't move on from this until I thank you."

"Consider me thanked," Griff rebuffed, forcing his memories of feeling so scared and responsible for everyone to leave his mind. "I just want to forget all of this ever happened."

"Knock knock," Paul Martin greeted as he entered his patient's room. "How are you feeling, Griff?" He smiled, completely unaware of the growing tension between the two men.