"And Joseph, no drinking."

As Adam watched his baby brother through a haze, he couldn't stop reflecting on his father's words of warning.

It was a strange thing, really. He hadn't exactly seen Joe sneak more than a couple sips of whiskey, yet somehow, the kid just kept spiraling and spiraling. That goofy grin on his face spoke volumes. And the way he swayed…

Adam downed another shot. Let Joe sway all he wanted. It's probably nothing, his inebriated mind told him. 'S probably fine…

He'd always prided himself on being able to hold his liquor and hold it well. At the moment, this fact only served as a testament to how much whiskey and beer Adam had consumed that evening.

Hoss still sat off in one of the corners, bawling with Delphine about how truly happy he was for her and Ross. Truly, no one could turn on the waterworks like Hoss with one too many drinks in his system.

Speak of the devil… Familiar hands refilled his glass and Ross Marquette slid into the chair beside him.

"You know," Adam began, after stealing a brief moment to rehearse his words in his head. He might have been fading fast, but he still clung to a little thing called dignity. "Next time you throw a party, don't invite my baby brother."

Ross just grinned. "Hey, I'm not th'one who brought 'im here."

"Yeah, and you're not the one who has to take him home, either. Where…" A quick blink wasn't nearly enough to clear his vision, yet Adam tried in vain all the same. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Lost the kid already?"

"Didn't lose him. He's somewhere… Just don't know where…"

"I'm sure Hoss'll keep track of him."

Adam flashed his friend a sardonic look. "Now, I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that. Or have you not seen the emotions Hoss and your gal are spillin' over there?"

The responding laugh was jarring, or maybe that was just another effect of the whiskey burning down Adam's throat.

"Now," he went on for what felt like the umpteenth time that night, "I jus' want you to know: I'm not an alcoholic."

"I know, I know," Ross replied, his tone half-hearted at best.

"Just need t'make sure you know that. That you know I don't have a problem."

"It's a special occasion! No judgment."

Adam flashed a wry grin. "You say that now."

"And I'll say it later, too. Y'know," Ross said after a moment, slinging his arm around Adam's shoulders. Another jarring sensation, yet not wholly unpleasant. "You and your brothers are always welcome to spend here th'night… Spend th'night here, I mean."

"Couldn't do that to you, friend." Adam shook his head, embracing the swirling of the room as he did so. It wasn't as though it would go away any time soon. Might as well just accept it. "Nope, just couldn't do that to you and Del. Not on your one-year anniversary."

Overcome with a sudden emotion Adam couldn't quite understand, Ross pulled him into a side hug before staring him down with glassy eyes.

"That's real good of you, Adam," Ross slurred, voice tight. "It's real good of you ta think of me and Delphine in that way. It's just real good, y'know that. Don't you?"

Waving a dismissive hand, Adam forced himself out of the chair, only stumbling a bit as his hands fought for purchase on the table's edge. "Sure, Ross, I know it. You two deserve the world. Always have."

Ross could only nod and down the rest of his drink, leaving Adam to go off in search of his brother.

Turns out Joe was easier to locate than he'd originally thought. The Marquette house wasn't nearly as large as the Ponderosa ranch and he found his brother not a minute later, sucking up the rest of a dozing Carl Reagan's drink off a spoon. Though the sight struck Adam as odd, he couldn't think of anything to say about it, so he merely handed Joe the glass of water he'd picked up on the way over.

"Drink this," he ordered.

Joe, for his part, glanced up in slow surprise. "Adam! This ain't what it looks like."

"Really? Looks an awful lot like drinkin' to me. Remember what Pa said?"

Scrunching his face up in confusion, Joe cocked his head. "Pa said somethin'…?"

"Never mind. Give me that." Grabbing both the glass and the spoon, Adam shoved the water into Joe's hands. "Drink that."

"But I'm not thirsty."

"Drink it. I don't care if you're thirsty or not. You need to drink that water, then go get somethin' to eat… or somethin'."

Obediently, Joe downed the water, looking as though he was still trying to remember what Pa had said.

Seems so long ago.

For the first time that night, as his little brother shakily made his way off the floor, Adam felt a pang of guilt.

Should've watched him better.

Oh, you're thinking about this now?

It wasn't as if there was an age restriction on drinking in their fine territory… Just Pa's.

"No drinking until you're sixteen." That's the rule they'd always tried to abide by. Unfortunately for everyone involved that night, Little Joe was just a couple years shy of meeting Ben's requirements.

"Food," he repeated, pointing toward the slim leftovers of Delphine's appetizers, "then you're gonna go sit in that fluffy chair over there. And you're gonna stay there 'til I come 'n get ya. Got it?"

Joe just nodded. As Adam watched him go, he sank into the nearest chair, only falling off the darn thing a couple of times before hitting the target. With a long sigh, he leaned his head against the high backing.

When he felt the heavy tapping on his shoulder, Adam jolted awake. What seemed like only a couple of minutes could've been hours, for all he knew. With this dreadful thought in mind, he jerked out of the chair, coming face-to-face with a puffy-eyed Hoss.

"Adam," Hoss whispered, as if his brother were still sleeping, "mebee we should leave Del 'n Ross ta finish th'rest o'their honeymoon alone."

Rubbing at his eyes with a vengeance, Adam shook his head. "'S not their honeymoon, Hoss. Only their anniversary."

"Well, whatever ya call it, I think it's gettin' late."

"Is it?" Adam asked even as a yawn slipped past his lips. "Where's…?"

"Joe's dozing over there." Hoss jerked his head toward some distant location, wincing as he did so. "Come on."

Hoss helped his brother stand and Adam scanned the room for Ross. He and Del were nowhere to be seen.

Good for them, he thought, glancing toward the bedroom before going to see about Joe.

"Think you can carry him out to the wagon?" Adam took a moment to thank his past self for being wise enough to bring the wagon. There's no way we'd be getting back on horses.

"I'll try."

"Good." With that, Adam followed Hoss and Joe out the door, careful to close it quietly behind him.

Every so often, he'd lean against Hoss, supporting his brother as he supported their baby brother.

Pa's gonna kill me. It was a troubling thought, and yet Adam found he didn't have the attention span required to dwell on it at the moment. Fatigue washed over him in waves, mixing with the nausea like brandy on an empty stomach.

If he could just get Joe and Hoss up to bed before Pa saw… Then Pa might not even have to know.

Yeah…

As the wagon rumbled along down the road, it was all Adam could do to keep the reins tied securely between his fingers.

Yeah. They can sleep it off, no problem.

No problem…

Tomorrow, it'll be just like none of this ever happened…

The pounding headache that woke him the next day told Adam his prediction last night was wrong. Very wrong.

It's nothing new, his brain told him. You've suffered worse hangovers.

True.

Pulling on his clothes and belt, he snatched up his boots and made his way down the hall. He had confidence Pa wouldn't fault him for the way he was feeling. After all, their father had always held to the belief that the misery of a hangover was enough punishment on its own. There wasn't any need to add a firm talking-to into the mix.

"Your choices are your own," he recalled Ben saying nearly ten years ago—on the morning of Adam's first hangover. "I can't help it if I wish you'd make better ones."

Right.

Pa awaited Adam at the dining room table, a knowing look gracing his features.

"Good morning, son. And just how are you today?"

"Fine," Adam replied with a tight grin. "Just fine, Pa. How're you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I slept very well." If he was trying to rub it in, it was working, dang it. Adam's restless night sleep made itself known via another crashing wave of exhaustion.

"Yeah," was all he could think to say, sliding into his chair and pouring a nice steaming cup of coffee. And he might've been mistaken, but he was sure he saw the corners of Ben's lips curve upward.

Breakfast continued in silence after that, but it was a nice silence. As he picked at his food, ignoring the many ways his body continuously reminded him of last night's fiesta, Adam found his thoughts wandering toward marriage. How much longer would he have to wait until he had what Del and Ross had?

With your luck? Years, probably.

Another sip of coffee banished such thoughts. Besides, that line of thinking wasn't important now. His time would be better spent trying to ward off the effects of the hangover before his morning chores reared their ugly heads.

"Hey, Pa?" Hoss called out from the landing, shattering the quiet atmosphere. "Little Joe says he needs ya for a minute."

Adam felt his insides freeze. Joe. How could he have forgotten about Joe?

"I'll be right there." As Ben started toward the stairs, he shot Adam a look. "Your brother didn't happen to have anything to drink last night, did he?"

A shrug was the best Adam could offer, his gaze dropping down to his steaming cup of coffee. Idiot. How could you forget about Joe?

"Hmm. Interesting." Ben disappeared upstairs without another word.

This new silence hung heavy on the two remaining Cartwrights. Hoss made his way to the table, joining Adam in his meal of dejection.

Sucking in a breath, Adam glanced up at his brother. "How'd he seem?"

Hoss gave a shrug and began picking at his plate. "Like you and me, I guess, 'cept worse. Like a kid who shouldn't be drinkin' drank too much."

"Yeah." Adam heaved a sigh. Great. Just great. "You didn't give him any last night, did you?"

Hoss not only shook his head but crossed his heart as well. "I swear, I didn't."

"Well, I didn't either." Adam took a slow sip of his coffee. "Kid never should've been there in the first place."

"Aww, come on, Adam, that wouldn't've been fair."

"Right, because I'm sure Joe is absolutely loving this new experience."

"Ain't anyone's fault but his own."

"Sure." Even as he said it, the sharp claws of guilt scratched at the back of his mind.

You should've watched him better. What kind of brother are you?

Adam rubbed at his aching temple. Oh, shut up…

"What're we gonna tell Pa?" Without even looking up, Adam could tell Hoss' face was pinched with guilty concern.

"The truth, I suppose."

Hoss cocked his head. "Yeah? And what's that?"

Offering up a shrug, Adam took a moment to formulate his reply. How had Joe ended up so hungover? "He drank too much at the party last night, and that's that."

"Even after Pa told him not to?"

"Especially after Pa told him not to." Another shrug, then Adam downed the rest of his coffee, hoping it would help kick his brain into action. "It's his own fault, really. He drank too much when he was too young for it and made himself sick. That's all there is to it."

Even though Hoss nodded, Adam could see the wheels turning in his brother's mind.

Don't overthink it, Hoss. Please, don't overthink it.

"But…"

Adam forced himself not to roll his eyes. "Yes, Hoss?"

"Well… weren't we supposed to be watching over him?"

"Now, didn't you just say that it's nobody's fault but his own?"

"Sure, but…" Hoss shrugged again. "Well, I dunno. He made the choice, yeah, but don't ya think he would've snuck a lot less liquor if we'd kicked his tail a bit?"

Right. A fresh wave of pain pounded against Adam's skull. Am I my brother's keeper?*

The Bible verse swirled around his mind; the ancient words of Cane threatening to darken his thoughts.

Knock it off. It's too early for this. He rubbed at his head again. Way too early…

"I suppose so." The words sat on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be released, and yet, when they came out, they sounded more like, "He never should've been there in the first place."

"Maybe," Hoss replied, "but… Well, shoot, Adam, I sure do feel like a slacker. I should've watched 'im better."

Adam was shaking his head before his brain could even register the movement. "No." He sucked in a breath. "No, Hoss, I should've watched him better."

A ghost of a smile stretched Hoss' lips, apparently grateful to be sharing the burden. When Adam tried to smile back, however, it resembled more of a grimace.

That's when they heard the stairs creak, signaling Pa's return.

Adam was the first to glance up—when it became clear Hoss wasn't going to. Though his mouth had dried up long ago, he licked his lips and tried to school his expression. "Is, uh, Joe all right?"

"He told me," Ben began slowly, "that he feels terrible. Now, would either of you care to explain why my youngest son is feeling this way?"

Adam and Hoss exchanged a glance, one that had Adam pleading with his eyes not to be left alone as their only defense. Though he merely offered a slight wince, Hoss made it clear he wouldn't leave his brother hanging.

Let's hope not, he thought, turning back toward his father.

"Allergies?" Adam inquired, keeping his tone as innocent as possible. "It's getting to be that time of the season…"

"No, no," Ben replied in that voice that told both his sons he was simply fishing around for the answers he already knew full well. "No, he's up there complaining of a sour stomach and a splitting headache."

A quiet "oh" was all Adam could manage before looking toward Hoss.

Licking his lips, Hoss offered up a shrug. "Maybe he ate too much last night? Del sure had a lot of food all spread out like the biggest banquet you ever did see!"

All right. Adam sucked in a breath. We'll go with that.

"Yeah," came his weak echo, "maybe he ate too much."

Their father's eyes were sharp now, the kind that weren't to be messed with—if you knew what was good for you. "Or drank too much." He let the words hang there for a moment, dampening the mood even further. "Does that sound about right, gentlemen?"

Hoss flashed a Welp, there goes all our hope of survival look his way, but Adam couldn't match the expression. His half-filled coffee cup had become a very interesting sight indeed and he couldn't seem to take his eyes off it.

"Well?" Pa's booming voice reminded him that he'd yet to come up with a suitable explanation.

Mind racing, Adam reached for the best answer he could find on such short notice. "Carl Reagan was there. I saw Joe take a few sips from his glass."

"Just a few?"

"Well, I wasn't watching the kid 24/7," Adam shot back. "He probably snuck a glass or two of his own when I wasn't looking. What was I supposed to do, breathe down his neck the whole time?"

"You were supposed to watch him!" came Ben's roaring reply.

"Because that's the only reason I was there: to watch my baby brother and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. That's always it, isn't it? Did it ever cross your mind that I'm not responsible for Joe's mistakes?" Adam couldn't remember when exactly he leaped to his feet, but he was too riled up now to even consider sitting back down. "He does what he wants no matter what I say, and the only one who's responsible for what happened last night is him. Not me, not Hoss. Joe."

"Now, wait just a minute, young man—"

"We weren't shoving drinks down his throat, Pa! If anyone owes you an explanation, it's your precious little Joseph up there." Shoving in his chair with a huff, Adam brushed past his father.

"And where do you think you're going?" Ben boomed with a tone that had yet to fully comprehend his son's words.

"I'm going to see Joe," came his mumbled answer as he skipped up the stairs two at a time.

He didn't look back. If his father wanted to keep arguing, that was on him. Not me.

Adam didn't know where that outburst had come from, but he knew if he remained downstairs any longer, it would turn into much more than a quick little heated exchange.

Joe's door was ajar when he reached the hallway, so he swallowed down a fresh wave of guilt and tiptoed inside.

The room was as dark as Pa could make it in the bright morning hours, with both curtains drawn and every lamp doused. In the middle of it all lay a lump of rumpled blankets, a dark, curly head sticking out at the top.

"Knock, knock," Adam said, doing his best to keep his voice low and soothing. A groan was all the reply he received. "Joe?"

Another muffled groan came from the bed as the lump of covers shifted, pulling back to reveal a very pale, yet also very flushed Little Joe.

"You come to watch me die?" he moaned.

Adam couldn't help but smile. "I came to see how you were holding up."

In a sudden change of mood, Joe cracked a grin. "I'm fine. Just got this ol' headache, but it's nothin'."

"Uh huh." Adam sat down on the edge of the bed. "And a stomach ache, and exhaustion, and a touch of dizziness whenever you shift positions. Oh, and I bet your mouth's drier than the Mojave Desert." He flashed a knowing grin. "Does that about sum it up?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Joe furrowed his brows. "Hey, how'd you know all that anyway?"

"Well, you're not the only one feeling sick. I just have better practice at hiding it." Succumbing to the slight crease between his own brows, Adam studied his brother before placing a hand on Joe's forehead. "Aren't you hot under all those blankets?"

"It's better than being blinded every time I open my eyes. It's too bright out here."

A small hum was all Adam offered in reply as he sized up the offending sunbeams peeking through the curtains. Taking a spare quilt from the end of Joe's bed and a few of the clothespins the boy still hadn't removed from his clean laundry, Adam rigged it so that the quilt covered the entire window, blocking out the sun completely. From the bed arose a sigh of relief.

Adam cocked a brow. "Better?"

"Much."

"Good," he replied, returning to his spot on the bed.

When Joe grimaced, likely due to a passing wave of nausea, Adam felt his own stomach turn.

As you said, you couldn't watch him 24/7.

Yeah, but I could've watched him better.

I could've been more alert. I could've been better.

Perhaps that's why he exploded downstairs. Not because of Pa or Little Joe.

Because of me.

When Joe's face relaxed, Adam only felt his tighten up all the more.

"Why'd you do it, Joe?"

There was no need for clarification as Joe's expression darkened. "I dunno."

"We both have a father down there who will tell you that's not good enough." Silence settled over the room and Joe averted his gaze. "Come on, Joe. Why'd you do it?"

A shrug rustled the blankets as Joe pulled one arm up to rest above his head. "I dunno… I was fine at first… Then… I dunno. It just seemed like all of a sudden everyone was drinking and having fun 'cept me. It seemed like the only way to have a good time, I guess." Adam pursed his lips, already forming a reply, but Joe wasn't finished. "I guess… Well, I just felt sorta… sorta left out… Okay?"

Brushing a hand through Joe's sweat-heavy curls, Adam tried his best to fight off the guilt. With every word his little brother spoke, it grew stronger.

Left out.

He never should've been there.

And that would fix the exclusion factor how…?

Adam took a breath, letting it out nice and slow—giving himself enough time to collect his thoughts. "Joe, I'm sorry. This never should've happened."

Scrunching up his face, Joe titled his head. "What d'you have to be sorry for?"

"I should've…" Biting back a curse, Adam shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know. I should've noticed; should've done something. Whacked you upside the head, I don't know."

"I still would've done it," came Joe's quiet reply. "You reminded me of Pa's warning at the start and I still did it. You can't always take all the credit for things, Adam."

"I hardly think what happened last night is something to take credit for."

"I'm serious! You always take the blame for everything. Sometimes it's good, I guess, but it sure is starting to get annoying. I'm not a stupid kid anymore. You could've nagged and whined at me the whole time we were there and I still would've snuck a few drinks."

"According to Pa, you had more than just a few. And I do not nag and whine."

Joe simply shrugged, an impish grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sometimes."

"I'd tell you to name a time, but I'm too afraid to hear what you might come up with."

The slight smile stretched into a full-on grin as Joe pulled the blankets under his chin. "Fine, I'll spare you the details. But only 'cause my head hurts so bad."

"Yeah, I'm right there with you. Here, I'll go get you some water."

At this, Joe perked up. "And food?"

"Not just yet." When the invalid let out an over-exaggerated groan, Adam grinned. "Let's get some fluid in you first, then we'll try some food. Trust me, you'll live."

"Then why do I feel like I'm dying?"

"One: because you've always had a flair for the dramatics, and two: because I saw you drinking out of Carl's glass last night. You know he only drinks straight whiskey, right?"

Joe winced. "I do now."

"Don't you forget it, either. Whenever you're tempted to drink that much again, just remember how you feel right this minute. And Joe?" he added as he approached the doorway.

"Yeah?"

Adam gave him a fond smile. "You were never a stupid kid."

Joe merely hummed in response, his eyes fluttering closed—a defense against the raging headache, no doubt. After taking one last look at his brother, Adam left the door ajar and made his way back downstairs.

Slowly.

He hadn't forgotten his heated words to his father, and he was certain Pa hadn't either. Apologies were in order, that was a fact. Adam would just have to gauge the room, tread lightly until the most opportune time.

Ben was waiting for him in the chair at the bottom of the stairs. Hoss still sat at the table, though Adam noticed he now ate with a bit more ease than before.

"Have a seat, son," Ben said, waving Adam toward the settee.

With no small amount of hesitation, he settled on the edge of the sofa, ready to jump up and defend his case at any moment.

Only, he hadn't come down to do that, had he?

Right. First the apology, then Joe's glass of water.

"Look, Pa," he began before Ben could even open his mouth, "what I said earlier… I shouldn't have shouted. You're right, I should've watched him better. It wasn't Joe's fault."

At this, his father surprised him, furrowing his brows and shaking his head. "It most certainly was Joseph's fault."

"But…" What?

"Tell me: were you the one who handed him his first drink last night?"

"Well no, but—"

"And were you the one who made him down it so fast that he found himself due for a refill?"

"Of course not, but I should've—"

"No, Adam," Pa said with a sigh, "I should've. Maybe you were right: I never should've let him go. He was the youngest one there—too young for the kind of partying I knew you all would be doing. As the parent, I'm the one responsible for my child's actions. Not you."

Adam couldn't help but offer his father a small grin. "I might not have handed him the drinks, Pa, but neither did you. He did it on his own, and sure, I could've been watching him better and you probably should've kept him home, but if I can't take any of the blame, neither can you. Besides," he added, smiling wider as his gaze drifted to the crackling fire, "Joe just told me he's tired of other people taking the blame for his mistakes. He's growing up, you know."

"Yes…" Ben mused. "I keep having to remind myself of that."

Adam let out a light chuckle. "Me too."

Clapping the arms of his chair, Ben prepared to rise. "But grown-up or not, that boy and I are going to have quite the talk…"

"Uh, Pa," Adam intervened, clasping his hands together as he considered his next words, "remember the first time Hoss and I got hungover?" Ben merely lifted a brow in silent acknowledgment. "Well, don't you think Joe's suffering enough?"

"Yeah, Pa," came Hoss' input from across the room. "A hangover's enough a punishment in itself. Didn't you say that once?"

"Once, maybe," Ben defended, "but you two weren't underage."

Adam just shrugged. "Hoss wasn't yet sixteen when I dragged him home after his first time drinking. Remember that?"

"Hmm…" The lines between Ben's brows deepened.

Adam grinned. "What's the matter, Pa? Blocked it from your memory?"

"I just can't remember him being that young…"

"Aww, I wasn't that young," Hoss said between mouthfuls.

"You were a baby who shouldn't have gotten within ten feet of a shot of whiskey," Adam shot back.

"Yeah? Then why'd ya let me come down to the saloon with you?"

A shrug came through when words failed him as Adam wracked his brain for a proper answer. "I don't know. You were always so tall, even at that age. I guess it was just easy to forget we weren't the same age."

"Huh." Hoss seemed to ponder this for a minute. "I guess it was, at that. Heck, even I forgot I wasn't your age sometimes."

"Well," Ben said, setting the conversation back on track, "Joseph is much younger than both of you, and while I'll let him off with a warning this time, I'm going to make it clear that this isn't going to become a regular occurrence."

"With the way he feels now," Adam said with a sly grin, "I don't think he'll want to drink another shot of whiskey for as long as he lives."

Though Ben nodded, he didn't look convinced. "Hmm. That's what you said when you were his age."

"Right…"

Cracking a grin, Pa added, "What's wrong, son? Did you block it from your memory?"

"I, uh, think I'll bring Joe that glass of water now…"

Though he heard Hoss snicker behind him, Adam couldn't help but smile. Sometimes, lessons were learned the hard way, and sometimes they weren't even learned at all.

He prayed Joe would at least learn something from this. Maybe he has already.

Maybe we all have.

*Genesis 4:9, NIV Bible Translation.