AN: We'd like to thank all our loyal readers for sticking with us despite the delay in some of our recent updates and apologize for that. Hope y'all enjoy this next chapter! As always your feedback is more than welcomed and appreciated :-)

VCS

Chapter 24:

By the time evening came around, Ben sat next to Joe to bring him his dinner and to help him pass the time. "And it's as if Griff refuses to acknowledge that anything happened," Ben explained to his son. "It's strange," he commented thoughtfully.

"It's like he thinks if he can shove the whole event away in his mind that everything else will return to normal," Joe responded. "You know, Griff's not alone in operating that way," he added. "Jamie seems to be of the same mind."

Ben swallowed a piece of pork chop and shook his head. "But with Griff, I think it's more than that," fretted the Cartwright patriarch. "It's…" He hated even to say what it was that he thought. "I know that you haven't spoken to him since, and maybe you weren't too aware to notice anything out of the ordinary over the last few days, but…" Ben sighed. "Do you remember when Griff first came to live here?"

Joe was unsure where his father was going in this conversation, but he tried his best to give his father the benefit of the doubt that it would all make sense. "Sure I do."

"It was a hard transition for him and for us" Ben reminisced. "And his demeanor made it all the more hard for everyone." He thought back to those first few months. It seemed like not a day would pass without Griff running into some sort of issue with someone on the ranch. He'd talk back to Candy about any assignment given to him, he gave Joe, Hoss, and Jamie attitude about being Ben Cartwright's spoiled sons, he'd call Ben every name in the book… Not to mention how much he struggled to find his place amongst the rest of the hands, all of whom endlessly pranked Griff after his attempt to prove himself to the men.

Ben soon recognized that as much as Griff was leaving a trail of frustration in his wake, he was also feeling the brunt of it. After his time in prison, it was like Griff had erected walls around his whole world, and refused to let anyone breach those walls, lest they conquer Griff entirely. That is what happened when anyone let down his guard in prison, and Griff had to figure out for himself how to adjust so that he could function in the world again, without fear that showing a sign of weakness would lead to a beating or that a friendly attitude could be construed as an invitation for someone to harm him. It was a slow and difficult process, but Griff had been doing so well, especially lately, Ben thought ruefully.

"It's like he's reverted back to that guarded version of himself," Ben mused.

Joe listened carefully, bringing a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Then we've got to help him and remind him of who he is and not what he was," Joe declared confidently. He would not let Griff slip back into his old, destructive habits.

"Mhmm," Ben agreed. "And the sooner the better. Otherwise, I fear we might lose him for good."

Sheriff Coffee unlocked the door leading into Billy Toliver's cell, carrying a tray of stew, bread and water.

Billy sat on the bed with his back against the wall, facing away from the cell that held Gabe, who, when he was not screaming about being released and threatening the whole town, slept soundly.

"Thought you might be hungry," Roy said, placing the tray down at the end of the bed.

Billy remained silent, staring at nothing in particular.

"Better get that food down before it gets cold," Roy advised then sighed heavily when there was still no response. He left the cell to join Clem in the office, making sure everything behind him was locked properly. Both he and Clem had tried to bring Gabe some food earlier but gave up when the man violently threw the tray at Clem and tried to force his way out. They were thankful that their less than model prisoner was still weakened from his beating at the Cartwrights or else they may have had trouble overpowering him.

As soon as the old Sheriff was out of sight, Billy pushed himself away from the wall and scooted over to where the tray of food sat. He was starving and the stew smelled delicious. It didn't take him long at all to clean up the plate, chow down the bread, and wash it all down with the glass of water. He couldn't help but be surprised that he was given more than just what he would call a decent meal, considering he was a prisoner. Satisfied, Billy placed the tray and glass down on the floor by the door then lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He wondered what fate held for him. Would he hang? Or would he go to prison? Was the food going to be as good in prison as it was here? What would Butch have done if he were caught and not lying in a grave? Would he have tried to escape before going into the courtroom? Billy's mind began to formulate ideas of how Butch would have done just that.

Roy poured himself and Clem a mug of coffee each just as his deputy entered the office. He handed the mug to the younger lawman. "How're things out there?"

Clem shook his head and frowned. "There's talk of a lynch mob forming over at the bar. I'm hoping it's just the drink talkin' but if they're serious, we could have some real trouble on our hands. The Tolivers ruined a lot of farmers, stealin' their life savings, and that killing a few months ago don't sit well at all. Some folks here knew the Randalls. When the gang shot up Carl, that was quite the shock for everyone."

Roy sipped his coffee thoughtfully and sat down. "I knew Carl too, but he always had a hot head on his shoulders."

"That don't excuse what they did to him! A man's got a right to protect his property!" Clem snapped, rubbing the back of his stiff neck.

"And I agree with you. I'm just sayin' that was the first and only time they killed someone who wasn't already on a wanted poster. Besides, I heard it happened when one of their own was shot. Had Carl not pulled out his gun after they already fired a warning shot, he would be here testifying," Roy explained. "I ain't judging anybody, just stating facts."

"And that cowboy Carl winged, he survived, didn't he? Witnesses say he rode out with 'em and it seems they didn't waste any time to hit the next town! They coulda winged Carl if they wanted, but they killed him in cold blood!" Clem shot back, though not really meaning to sound so harsh.

"Look, Clem, I know how you feel and I know how everybody feels. Now, I'm not defending them. Like I said, I'm just stating the facts as they stand. It's our duty to make sure Billy's alive for a fair trial. That ornery one, too."

"I know! I know!" Clem waved off in frustration before sipping his coffee to help calm his mood. "I suppose you gonna wanna bring some food to the boy?" Part of him hoped the Sheriff would say he wasn't, not after he had to change his shirt from the mess the kid's cousin had made.

"I already did," Roy said matter-of-factly.

"You what?! Roy, you're supposed to wait for me!" Clem exploded, almost choking on his coffee.

"That boy's not gonna hurt anybody!" Roy gave a dismissing wave.

"He's a Toliver! The only reason he helped the Cartwrights is to save his own neck from a noose!"

"And what about Larry and Harold?" asked the sheriff. "They both said it in their statements. Billy had no reason to stop Cole from killing them but he did. He risked his own life to try to spare theirs. Now I think that counts for something more than just saving his own skin, don't you?"

Clem opened his mouth to argue but found he didn't know how to counter Roy on account that the sheriff had made a valid point on Billy's behalf. Instead, he cleared his throat and returned to sipping his coffee.

Roy waited a spell for Clem to say something, but when no other remarks were forthcoming, he turned his attention to the reports on his desk, satisfied to let the conversation drop.