SIX

ooooo

He wasn't sure why he'd done that.

Kissed Julia, that was. Ever since coming to the cabin Joe's emotions had been in turmoil. At first he hadn't thought about it since he'd felt like grass after a stampede, but the more time he spent inside the homely structure, the more the desolation that had claimed his soul on the ride to the Griswolds took hold. He wasn't a man to run, but that's what he'd been doing. He'd hoped travel, and spending some time in a different place, would ease the pain. It hadn't. Hoss was still dead. And now, he was grieving for more than Hoss. The name he put to that grief was 'Laura', but it was deeper than that. It was for the loss of a woman in his life. There's been a few he had really and truly loved – Laura and Amy Bishop chief among them. They'd died, just like his mother had died, and while he'd danced and dallied and delighted in the company of dozens of delectable damsels, he'd known at heart that he would never take that step again. Fearless, devil-may-care, dauntless and sometimes reckless Joseph Cartwright was afraid.

He was afraid that, in the end, every person he loved would die and leave him.

Adam was gone and who knew? maybe dead. Hoss died for him and instead of him. Pa…Pa was getting older and one day he would be gone. Every woman he'd loved, starting with his mother, had either died or deserted him.

Did he dare take a chance again?

Everyone that knew him would laugh if he told them he was beginning to have feelings for Julia Griswold that went beyond friendship. 'Joe Cartwright? Why, if that boy ever marries, it will be to a spitfire!' But he didn't want a spitfire or a fiercely independent woman. He'd dated wild and willful girls, actresses, and even taken a turn or two with saloon girls. Pa always told him they weren't the 'marrying kind' and he'd been right. He wanted – what was it the Good Book called it? – a helpmeet. Someone who would quietly stand by his side. A woman who would give him children and delight in taking care of them; someone who would take care of him.

Joe smiled. Then he laughed. The look on Julia's face when she thought he was going to march out and take on the outlaws had been priceless!

He rotated his injured shoulder as he finished the short walk to the privy. He had to admit, maybe he needed a little looking after. Pa told him once that a woman was there to slow a man down and make him think. Men – all men, but him more than a lot of them – had a tendency to charge ahead and right into danger. Pa said, once you had a wife and children, you had to think of someone else first. A single man could go out and get himself killed and his family would mourn, but a married man left behind people depending on him – people who needed him.

He…needed to be needed.

Joe halted when he just about bumped his nose into the rough wood of the outhouse. He shook his head and snorted and then took hold of the unlatched door and gave it a good thump. When he was a kid, he used to shout 'incoming!' and then wait for the critters to scramble out if they were in there. Since the Russells had been gone for over a year, he figured there might be a few of them considered the rough structure home. After a count of about twenty, he stepped inside.

Just in time to miss the movement in the trees to his right.

ooooo

Pat Griswold let out a little sigh as she placed the coffee pot next to the dish of pancakes on the table. It was something she'd done hundreds of times. There was even a man sitting at the table – but it was the wrong man.

"You worried about Julia?" Ed Flanders asked.

Pat pushed a stray lock of red-blonde hair out of her eyes. She nodded as she took a seat across the table from him. "Julia's grown a lot since…well…since what happened, but she's still a giddy girl not yet turned twenty."

"You're worried about Cartwright."

She blinked. "What? No. Joe Cartwright's a gentleman."

"Joe Cartwright's a man," Ed said as he took a sip. "Right fine coffee, Pat."

Her lips twisted. "Oh? And are men only interested in one thing when it comes to women?"

Ed hesitated before putting the cup on the worn tabletop. He looked right at her. "No. I'm not sayin' that. But he's a young one."

She allowed the smile to escape. "You were a young man once, weren't you, Ed?"

"Yes, I was. Didn't see no point to it." He reached with his fork for a pancake. "Every pretty filly that walked by turned my head. Couldn't think straight most the time."

"Well, Joe's not so young. I think his pa said he was around thirty," she said as she did the same.

"Young enough."

As they began to eat a silence fell. She'd ridden to Ed's first thing and asked him to come help her. He'd been right happy to, if 'happy' was a word that ever described the homesteader. Ever since his son had died three years back, Ed had carried with him a sadness that sucked dry just about anyone and anything he came into contact with. He was a good man, but he was wasting precious time.

You never knew what the next day would bring.

"These men after Cartwright," Ed began, "this have something to do with what happened before?"

She hadn't told Ed of Joe's suspicions about Robert Truslow. She wanted Joe to do that. All she'd told him was that some men had waylaid Joe and seemed to be following him and that they – she and Julia – needed help to deal with it. It was a mark of the kind of man he was that he hadn't asked any questions.

Until now.

"Joe seems to think so," she replied, "but it's better I leave the telling to him."

Ed nodded, took another bite, and then announced, "Best I go alone."

Pat stared at him. "I'm coming with you."

"Best if you don't. Could be dangerous."

"If there is danger, Julia is right in the middle of it!"

"And what danger would that be, Mrs. Griswold?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

Ed was on his feet with his hand on his gun before the stranger could step in the door. The homesteader relaxed a bit – they both did – when he was followed by the familiar form of Ben Cartwright.

Pat's hand was on her chest. Her heart was thumping. "Sorry, Mister Cartwright, you startled me."

"I should be the one to apologize," the handsome man in black said as he held out his hand. "And it's 'misters' Cartwright."

She looked at Ben who smiled. "This is my oldest son, Adam. He came home to find his youngest brother missing and insisted we come find him."

"You know how older brothers are," Adam said with a smile. "First we hug, and then we box their ears."

"We took the liberty of stabling our horses," Ben said. "I didn't see Cochise in the barn."

"Joe's not here, Ben."

"Not here? Then where is he?" the man in black asked.

Pat rose from her chair and headed for the stove. "Why don't you two men sit down and grab some grub while I tell you about it? You look done in."

"Thank you," Ben replied. "We rode through the night." He glanced at his son. "Neither of us could sleep."

"Joe's in trouble, isn't he?" Adam asked as both he and his father sat at the table.

She remembered the older man's presentiments about his youngest the time before. It seemed there was a deep tie between all the Cartwright men.

"Fool kid got himself bushwhacked a second time," Ed said as he laid his napkin on the table and scooted his chair back.

"A second time?" Ben asked.

"Joe went to see Sheriff Truslow and then on to Lone Pines to send you a telegram," the older woman said. "Some men tried to rob him on the way back. They took his money, but he got away."

Adam let out a small sigh. "Was he hurt?"

Pat nodded as she sat another plate of pancakes on the table. "Shot him in the shoulder. It was a clean wound. He seemed to be doing all right."

"Where is my brother now, if I might ask?"

"Pat sent him up to the old Russell place," Ed replied. "Thought he'd be safer there."

"Alone?"

"My girl, Julia, is with him," she replied. "She knows how to take care of a man in trouble. She did it plenty of times with her pa."

"Where is Tom?" Ben asked, as she knew he would.

Pat sat down and looked at him.

And began to talk.

ooooo

Joe lowered himself gingerly into the chair at the table and then plastered a smile on his face as Julia turned toward him with a plate of food in her hand.

"Mm-mm," he said. "That smells good!"

She smiled. "You missed breakfast, so I thought I'd make us lunch. I found some tinned meat to go with the eggs. It's kind of a hash."

He really wasn't hungry, but for her sake he intended to finish every last bite. As he picked up his fork and looked at the mix-up on his plate, Joe silently prayed his stomach wouldn't betray him.

"How's your shoulder doing?" she asked. Before he could stop her, she reached out to touch his forehead. "You're still hot," she remarked with a frown.

"I'll be okay. It just takes me a while to shake off a fever. I've always been that way." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't really the truth either. He should have been better by now. The wound was as hot to the touch as his head, but he wasn't going to tell her that. "You'll see. Tomorrow I'll be right as rain."

The look Julia gave him reminded him way too much of Hop Sing.

Which made him laugh.

"What?" she asked.

He put his fork down and took the opportunity to delay shoveling food into his queasy stomach. "When this is all over, you and your ma need to come visit us on the Ponderosa. I'd like to show it to you. That way you can meet Hop Sing."

"Who's Hop Sing?"

"If you ask anybody in Virginia City, they'd say he's our cook and housekeeper, but he's a lot more than that. Pa hired him about the time he brought my mama to the Ponderosa." Joe paused. "After she died he took care of Adam, Hoss, and me. Hop Sing was the one who saw we were up and dressed and washed and fed in time to ride to school. He was there when we got home, and made sure we did our homework. He took care of all of us, but for me, well," Joe paused, "I guess you could kind of say he became my second 'ma'."

Julia smiled, as if the picture he painted amused her. "He sounds like a wonderful man."

"He is. That look you gave me a minute back. It reminded me of him. That's why I laughed."

She held his gaze. "You mean the one when you told me that whopper about feeling better by tomorrow?"

"Whopper?" Joe gave her his best innocent look.

Julia indicated his plate with a nod. "Healthy men eat. You can't stop them. Sick ones don't."

"You never took care of my brother when he was sick," he replied. "Hoss could eat a horse and a –"

Her hand covered his. "Joe. How bad is it?"

He slumped back in the chair and let out a sigh. "I don't know. I think the wound might be infected."

"You better let me take a look at it." Julia rose to her feet and held out her hand. "Come on over to the bed and lay down."

"You can look at it here," he said, suddenly uncomfortable.

"I can, but I can't do it properly." The young woman smiled. "Don't tell me you're afraid little old me is going to take 'advantage' of you."

"Julia…." He cleared his throat. "About before…."

"It's okay. I'm sure you didn't mean it." She shrugged. "I imagine it was just what Ma calls a 'moment'."

She tugged on his hand but he didn't budge.

"Julia. You need to understand something about me. I'm not a man who does things unless he means to do them." Joe rose to his feet. He placed a hand alongside her cheek. "So you see, I'm not so sure it's smart for me to go lay down on that bed and have you unbutton my shirt."

It took her a second to recover. "Well, I can't rightly take care of that wound with you wearing it."

He nodded. "Okay…fair is fair. How about I take it off and stay here?"

She rolled her eyes. "What am I supposed to do if you pass out and fall off the chair?"

"I won't," he replied as he began to work the buttons.

Julia watched him – a little too closely for his comfort. Her rose-petal lips quirked. "You want me to turn around?"

He'd finished with the buttons and was struggling a bit to remove the shirt. The right sleeve had gone fine, but the left one wasn't cooperating. Apparently it was stuck to his skin. Joe wrinkled his nose and winced as he pulled at it.

"I think I need some…help…here…."

Julia stared at him a moment longer and then reached inside his shirt. He thought she was going to pull the shirt free, but instead she slipped her other hand inside the fabric and ran both hands up his back. She looked up and he saw the same deep hunger that he felt reflected in her eyes. Joe cleared his throat. He needed to put a stop to this. He was the adult here. Julia was little more than a child.

Just like he'd been a child when he'd proposed to Laura all those years ago.

ooooo

The road to the cabin was a long one and fraught with delays. The four of them – him, Pa, Pat Griswold and Ed Flanders – had started out just after breakfast to head to the Russells. Pat's hand, Ern, was to join them later after attending to the needs of her spread. The day was half-gone and they weren't quite halfway there. On the road they'd run into Sheriff Truslow and a man named Amos Pettis. The pair said they were out looking for rustlers, but something about their demeanor struck him wrong. Of course, Pa had prejudiced him a bit against the sheriff and not without reason. The man's inept investigation into who bushwhacked Joe had allowed those same men the opportunity to attempt to kill his brother again. If not for Hoss, Joe would have been dead.

Adam closed his eyes.

Hoss.

It was so hard to believe he was gone.

Even though he'd known – even though he'd read the letter a hundred and one times – he'd still half-expected to find the big galoot in the barn nursing some animal back to health, or maybe in the kitchen rustling chocolate cake for a midnight snack. Hoss' absence was a presence that could not be denied. You couldn't help but feel it every time you stepped into the house.

He had no idea how Joe was coping with it.

Of course, from what little Pa had said – in letters as well as since he'd been home – it seemed Joe wasn't 'coping' with his emotions. Little brother had taken them and stuffed them in a sack and sewn it shut. Then he'd tossed the sack into a deep, dark well. Pa said Joe's bursts of anger – usually directed at himself – followed by deep bouts of depression were difficult to endure. Adam snorted. 'Difficult.' That was Pa. Steady. Solid. Self-sacrificing.

Long-suffering.

He looked like he'd aged ten years.

They were on the move again. Truslow and Pettis had held them up about an hour asking questions about where they were going and what they were about. The pair had couched it as 'friendly chatter', but it was more than that. Adam had a sense that it was a delaying tactic, and that made him even more anxious to ride on and reach the cabin just to make sure his baby brother was still breathing. Joe was an enigma. His youngest brother was one of the strongest, toughest men he knew. Up until his mid-twenties, Joe had been slight of build and in the featherweight class. He was possessed of a natural beauty that, as a kid, had passed the handsome mark and marched straight on to 'pretty'. One year they'd talked him into dressing as a girl for an All Hallows' Eve party and he'd won the prize for best costume. Everyone thought he was a girl. All of this had led to a lot of fights where little brother felt the need to prove himself. He and Hoss had taught him how to defend himself and taught him well. Joe could take on a man twice his size and win. It was ironic that the one enemy that tough kid could not beat couldn't even be seen.

Infectivity.

It had nearly killed him a dozen times. Joe had been sick a lot as a child and then been shot, stabbed, and beaten a dozen times or more as an adult. Worrying about Joseph Francis Cartwright was a natural state for anyone who loved him.

He was worried about him now.

Adam's reverie was interrupted when his father urged Buck on and came alongside him. Pa remained silent for a moment and then said, "What did you make of Robert Truslow?"

He pursed his lips and thought a moment. "He appeared to me like someone who has something to hide."

Pa nodded. "I agree. I have never trusted the man. When we were here the last time – when your brother was bushwhacked – I did some asking around. Most of the Griswold's neighbors told me he was a decent man and a competent sheriff. And yet, in your brother's case, I saw nothing but an inept, belligerent individual who all too obviously wanted me to go away."

"So what are you thinking?"

His father sighed. "I'm not sure. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt." Pa looked behind in the way the two men had gone. "I'm uneasy about the fact that he was with Amos Pettis today."

"That's the father of the man who shot Joe, right?"

"One of the men. It was either Orv Pettis or Jim Fenton. I don't know if it was ever established which man shot your brother, but they were in on it together."

"And now they're both dead."

"Yes…which also makes me uneasy. Amos could blame your brother for his son's death."

"You'd think he'd blame Truslow. He's the one who was there."

"Man is a curious creature, son, as I am sure you know. In order to make his son into a hero, Amos would feel compelled to turn your brother into the villain. Joe lied about what Orv was doing. Or Joe tricked him into doing something he didn't want to do." Pa sighed. "Perhaps Amos would even go so far as to try to convince himself that Joe was the one who was stealing cattle and his son was blamed for it."

"I wonder…." Adam frowned. "It could be all or any of that, or it could be that Amos and Truslow are involved."

"Involved?"

"With the cattle rustling."

Pa was frowning too. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, let's suppose that this syndicate our neighbors told you about is real and is operating out of the area near Lone Pines." He glanced behind at Pat and Ed who were following in their wake. "Three years ago Ed's son was murdered on his way back from a cattle show where some of those men would have been. Let's say James found out something there and that someone knew he'd found it out."

"And had him killed to keep him quiet?"

"I'm not one to accuse a man without proof, but you said Sheriff Truslow found his body when there was no one else around."

Pa's look was grave. He nodded.

"So, fast-forward to Joe's trip to Lone Pines where he stumbles on Orv Pettis and Jim Fenton changing the brands on the Griswold's cattle to their own. Joe is shot and nearly killed and, from what you have told me, Truslow did everything in his power to stop the investigation into his shooting, from ignoring your suggestions and stomping off in a huff, to refusing to use dogs to search for clues."

"It was odd," Pa said. "There was a definite feel of…well…conspiracy in the air. Even among Tom and Pat's neighbors. I would look out to find them clustered in groups, talking quietly as they watched the house." The older man paused. "Ed Flanders among them."

So they could have a viper in their nest.

"And now," Adam went on, "here we are riding out to find Joe who was attacked again – after he visited the good sheriff. Plus, we run into that same sheriff, who is traveling with one of the dead bushwhackers' fathers, along the way. You know what they say, Pa? Coincidence, if traced far enough back, becomes inevitable."

His father was silent for a moment. Then he nodded. "Which means we need to get to the Russells' cabin now."

ooooo

He'd stepped outside.

Julia followed him.

"Joe, I know what I want. I want you," she said as she stepped off the porch. "I've wanted you since I met you that first time, two years ago."

"You were seventeen," he said.

"You were seventeen once," she countered. "Were you in love then?"

Joe closed his eyes and drew a breath. Julia. Amy. Emily. Laura. At that age, he'd been in love more times than he could count.

"You're not old enough to know what you want."

She came closer. "Ma was only eighteen when Pa proposed, and less than twenty when they married. She knew what she wanted. So do I."

"How old was your Pa?"

"Twenty-six."

"Julia. Maybe missing your pa…. Maybe the fact that I'm older like he was. Maybe…."

"Maybe you're scared," she said softly.

"I'm not scared."

"Yes, you are. Don't you see?" She was standing close by him now. So close he caught the scent of vanilla on her skin; of rose water in her hair. "You're scared I'm going to die like those other girls you loved. Like everyone you love."

He shook his head and started to turn away. She caught his hand and pulled him back.

"Every day is a chance, Joe. You take a chance just opening your eyes and breathing. You open the door without knowing what's outside, and walk into it not knowing what you leave behind. The kettle could spark and catch the house on fire while you're in the barn. One of the animals could spook and strike out. They might miss you, but you could catch your leg on a piece of rusty wire backing away and die two days later from infectivity." She squeezed his hand. "The only thing certain is uncertainty, and the only certainty is in believing that God is watching out for you and He knows what's best."

God.

In his darkest moments, he'd decided he was done with God.

"Everything happens for a reason," she concluded.

He held her gaze. "You really believe that?"

Julia smiled. "Well, if God's not in control, then who is? You ever think about that?"

He touched her face. "How did you grow so wise in two years?"

She shrugged. "I'm not that smart. You're just dumber than you were."

Joe started and then laughed. Then he bent his head to kiss her. When he came up for air, he said, "I think I could eat something now."

Her smile was as stunning as a May morning. "Give me five minutes," she said and then turned and practically skipped into the Russells' house.

Joe moved to the fence that bordered the yard and leaned his hip on it. He reached inside his shirt and felt his wound, which was hot to the touch and giving him pain. Still, he was on his feet and that was something to be grateful for.

Grateful.

It had been a long time since he'd been grateful for anything. He'd been so angry that life – that God – had taken his brother instead of him that he'd struck out at everything including Pa and Hop Sing. Joe glanced at the house. Julia was singing. He closed his eyes and listened and, again, his mind flew back to his youth and to his first true love and their hope for a life together.

Maybe, just maybe it could work this time.

With a sigh, Joe kicked off the fence and headed for the house.

Just as Julia screamed.

ooooo

To be continued….

ooooo