Malice was not a real town; Ben knew that now. Upon spontaneously waking, his youngest son may have lacked solid memory of how he had been injured, but what Joe could recall would be enough to develop this opinion. It would be enough to remind Ben of what Adam had said when he first came upon him in the town's decrepit jailhouse.

"I found Malice, Pa," he had warned. "If you don't leave this town, you're going to find it, too."

And in the moments before Joe woke, Ben knew that the warning had finally rang true.

Malice was not a place; it was a feeling. A bitter resolve. The intent or desire to do harm, as Adam had originally defined it. Ben had found such desire and intent. He wanted to harm those who had harmed his sons. Then Joe had woken up, dissolving his father's violent resolve. Standing on his knees by his son's bedside, his hand entwined with Joe's, Ben's relief was short-lived as his youngest son began to recount what he recalled.

"Adam and I fought, Pa," Joe whispered, his voice tired and hoarse.

It was an admission that made Ben feel as though his heart had leapt from his chest to become lodged in his throat. "You did," he said flatly.

The swelling of Joe's eye sockets and lids had diminished; an array of black and purple bruising had taken its place. The green of his eyes were intensified by the red streaks of hyphema encircling his irises. He looked away from his father and swallowed, preparing his tender throat for the length of what he intended to say.

"Everything went okay during the leg through Nevada," he began, his voice painfully guttural, each word spoken bound to further fray his vocal chords. "Things were fine when we crossed the territory line… but when we set foot on the road leading up here everything just started falling apart." He paused, his wounded face contorting as his expression buckled with what Ben could only define as a mixture of anger and disgust. "That trail was awful. It is so slender, rugged, and steep. A man would be a fool to try to pull a wagon up it, let alone guide a herd of cattle."

"I know," Ben said softly. "Hoss and I traveled it, too."

"It was… such a terrible ride. An insane thing to attempt in the first place. When we came upon the jagged trail head, Adam and I both knew guiding the herd up it was a fool's errand, but we still did it. Lord help me, I'm not even sure why. The cattle struggled to find room to climb the trail and so did we. Those animals had to march so tightly that they dammed up the whole path. They were so… pressed up against each other, against us. With nothing but boulders surrounding us, there was nowhere to feed them, nowhere to stop to properly rest, nowhere to have second thoughts and turn back around. Once we started there was no choice but to keep going and finish what we'd begun."

Joe looked at his father. The crimson blood lading the normally white scleras of his eyes were almost too distressing for Ben to view. Still, he forced himself to look his son in the eye. Pressing his lips together, he remained deliberately silent, giving Joe ample time to say what he needed to.

"I complained about it, Pa," Joe whispered guiltily, regretful tears filling his mistreated eyes. "I blamed Adam for making me come with him, for leading me up such an impossible road. I was so mad, that all I did was talk and blame, and Adam was so pissed off that he didn't say anything at all. He did hit me, though, but what I need you to know is that I… I hit him first."

What remained of Ben's relief slipped away, his chest filling with cold fear. He had thought Joe's story would dispel any doubt about what Adam had allegedly done. He had not thought about what the outcome could be if Joe believed his brother had been responsible for harming him. "Joe," he said gently, carefully, eager to dispel any lingering doubt. "Your brother did not do this to you."

Looking away, Joe stared absently at the bottom of the bed, seeming to consider nothing and everything at the same time. Tears fell from his eyes, thick, wet streaks trailing down his battered cheeks. "Then who did?" he rasped, his voice shaking. "Because… when we finally came to the top of the trail, there was nobody here."

"There was a woman, and three men."

"No, there wasn't. The town was empty. Abandoned."

"Joe, son, you're hurt badly. I think you're confused."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"No, I know I'm not because… because that was when Adam stopped being silent and became downright enraged. He didn't understand it, Pa. That much was clear. My whole life he's had the answer to everything, but then we came here, and he couldn't come up with one. He didn't know what to do. He was so ready to be free of the hindering cattle—we both were. Then we realized we were stuck with them, and another terrible trip back down that damn trail. Only the second one was going to be worse than the first, on account of how many of the animals had died upon it. There was no way to bring the surviving cows back down without loosing them, too.

We didn't know what to do. We were so tired and angry. We bedded the horses in the old livery, left the cows in the thoroughfare, and set ourselves up here. Night came, but I don't think sleep ever did. We were exhausted, but I was still running my mouth, and Adam was angrier than I'd ever seen him. We fought about everything. From the building we were gonna spend the night in, to the room and beds where we were gonna sleep. We just couldn't seem to leave each other alone. I kept pushing him and pushing him. He pushed right back."

"He hit you?" Ben did not want to ask the question. He had told himself he was done with questions, however, this one was too important to ignore.

Bottom lip trembling, Joe finally looked at him again, his eyes shining with fear and shame. "Only because I hit him first. I hit him, Pa, and he hit me back. I don't remember anything after that."

Ben did not want to believe Joe's account.

Forcing a small, reassuring smile, he squeezed his youngest son's hand as he was overcome by a unique sense of sadness which accompanied the somber realization that he did not believe it at all. He never would. He knew Adam had not harmed Joe. He knew there had been people in this town. He and Hoss had seen and spoken to them. He was in possession of the saddlebags brimming with half-cent pieces and he had read the note they forged in blood. They were the people who had his son, and he intended to get him back. If nothing else to finally speak to him, to glean the pure truth.

Squeezing Joe's hand, he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "You take it easy," he whispered. "I'll be back soon."

Standing and turning, he found Hoss lingering in the doorway.

"What are you going to do?" Hoss asked, his face locked in an indecipherable expression as he grabbed Ben's arm, halting him when he tried to push past.

"I'm going to find your brother," Ben said.

Hoss glanced between Ben and Joe before guiding his father into the hall. Letting go of Ben's arm, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and tilted his head at the room where Joe lay. "What do you make of that?"

"What do you think I make of it?"

Nodding, Hoss expelled a taxed breath, as though the terse response had been expected. "Pa, them people are dangerous and downright weird. After hearing Joe's story, I reckon, I don't know what to make of anything."

"Your little brother is confused."

"What if he's not?"

Shaking his head, Ben lifted an authoritative hand. "Hoss, I don't want to hear it."

"And I don't want you to go after them," Hoss countered, his blue eyes full of pain and guilt. "Does that make me terrible?"

Ben's expression softened. "No. I suppose, it makes you human. I won't lie and say there aren't a great many things about this that's troubling. Not to you, at least. How can I? You knew something was wrong with this from the very beginning. Even the thought of this place existing bothered you. You never wanted to come here."

"And now, I guess, I got no other choice but to stay," Hoss said dourly.

Clenching his arm, Ben squeezed. "Take care of Joe," he said. "I'll be back soon."

Though he did not speak further, the grimness of Hoss's expression declared he was neither comforted by the touch nor did he believe the claim.

TBC

Thanks for the reviews!