TWELVE

ooooo

They were seated around the fire. The plan was to eat an early lunch and then take off. They'd failed to find their father's 'leaf', but had stumbled on the rustlers' trail, which was headed toward a box canyon nearby. As Adam sipped his coffee, he considered his unpredictable younger brother. Joe was quiet – too quiet. He'd had enough experience with the kid to know that meant he was planning something. Adam chuckled as he lowered the cup.

Probably an escape.

Joe felt they were moving too slowly. Even though Pat agreed with him that caution was the best option, little brother would have none of it. Thankfully – thank God, really! – Joe was less than able at the moment. Adam pretended to lower his gaze as he took another sip, as if he had suddenly found something exceedingly interesting about the dark brown liquid filling his cup, but actually pinned his gaze on his brother. At first glance, Joe appeared ready and raring to go. Of course, years of his brother's prevarications where his health was concerned had taught the man in black that there were other signs to look for. First of all, Joe was irritable as hell. Secondly, there was a pinched look to his normally wide eyes, his full lips were pulled into a thin line, and he was shaking – not with fever, though that was there too – but with a restive sort of energy; the kind that made a boiler blow. When he asked Pat about the state of Joe's wound, the levelheaded, no-nonsense woman shook her head.

He sympathized. He did a lot of that too.

Adam's gaze shifted to the loquacious young man who had joined them. Pa told him about Ern, the Griswolds' young hand. He was a few years older than when he and their father first met, but to an old man like him – Adam snorted – Ern seemed incredibly young. Pat said he was twenty-four but he didn't believe it.

He looked fourteen.

Ern was greatly enjoying himself at the moment, regaling them with his adventures. He was quite a talker and expressive with his hands. And while it was obvious he had not been educated past, perhaps, the tenth grade, he was savvy as all young men living in the West had to be. Adam put his cup down and leaned back.

He'd thought about hiring him to keep track of Joe.

"Wait a minute," he heard his brother say. "Are you talking about Ed Flanders' son, James? The one that was killed?"

Ern nodded his head. "Sure am, Joe! Only he weren't killed. Come to find out, he was murdered!"

Joe looked puzzled. "Pa told me James was killed by a man who thought he'd gunned down his brother."

"That's what we thought too, but we don't anymore. Weren't too long ago Ed got a telegram from Sheriff Strait out of Bridgeport."

"What did it say?" Pat asked as she lifted the coffee pot from the fire and headed his way.

"Sheriff Strait was lookin' into some old cases. He thought there was something funny about what happened. Come to find out the man that killed Jimmy – that's what I called him, he was a friend of mine – didn't have no brother to be gunned down!"

"You mean the whole thing was fabricated?" Adam asked as he waved away another cup of coffee.

"Sure was. Sheriff Strait went out asking questions nobody wanted to answer. Finally, there was a man in the jail who said he knew somethin' and he'd give it up if the sheriff let him out in the middle of the night so's he could leave town without bein' seen."

"What did the man say?" Joe asked.

"That Jimmy was murdered on account of he'd found somethin' out about the rustlers and was comin' back to tell his pa."

"And what was it he'd found out?" Pat asked as she retook her seat.

"The telegram didn't say. Ed was right upset about it. He took off in the middle of the night and I didn't see hide nor hair of him for a week."

'Curiouser and curiouser,' as Alice would say, Adam thought. Ed Flanders was a tight-lipped man, but it seemed odd that he hadn't informed anyone of this development. It was clear this new information was as much of a surprise to Pat as it was to them. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he intended to take matters into his own hands.

"Where is Ed?" he asked.

"Ed's with your father," the older woman replied. She was silent a moment. "Jimmy was his youngest. Ed was awful close to him. He's not been the same since."

Adam's gaze returned to his brother. Hoss had known, just as he did, that if anything happened to their little brother, it would be their father who would pay – perhaps with his life.

He would have done the same thing as Hoss that day at the mud slide.

"So, Joe," he said, turning to his brother, "tell me again about your suspicions concerning Sheriff Truslow."

"I told you everything already," his brother snarled. Joe tossed his cup down, spilling its contents and setting the fire sizzling. "We're wasting our time! Julia is in danger and we're sitting here chattering like a bunch of silly women at a social." Joe's gaze flicked to Pat. He looked appropriately abashed. "I'm sorry, Pat. I…"

The older woman favored Joe with a motherly smile. "That's one thing I haven't ever been accused of. Just the opposite." She paused and then added with a wink. "Now, that daughter of mine, she's another thing entirely."

Adam stifled a laugh at Joe's startled look. "Humor me, Joe. I would like to hear your thoughts again in light of what Ern just said."

His brother sucked in air and let it out slowly – something Hoss had taught Joe to do many years ago to calm that demon that lived inside him.

"I don't know much about the first time I was shot. Only what Pa told me. He said Sheriff Truslow didn't have any interest in finding out who shot me and actually seemed to be trying to prevent anyone from finding out."

"It's true," Pat agreed. "I hate to speak ill of Bob, but I was there when he talked to your Pa and your brother. When they questioned the sheriff about what he'd done – and pushed him when he admitted he hadn't done anything – Bob got mad and left the house."

Adam nodded. "I understand when it was suggested hounds be used to hunt the bushwhackers down, the sheriff refused at first and then took his own sweet time about fetching them."

"Yes." Pat paused. "The odd thing is, Bob's been a good sheriff and I always thought, a decent man. He never gave us any cause for worry." Her gaze went to Joe. "Another thing seems odd to me is that, when Jim Fenton and Orv Pettis tried to set our place on fire so they could get to you, Joe, Bob was nowhere to be found. The men took them and turned those outlaws over to him and they…."

"They ended up dead," Joe finished for her.

Adam pursed his lips. "Seems a bit of a coincidence."

"I thought so too. That's why I went to talk to Truslow," Joe said.

He held his brother's gaze. "And almost ended up dead as well."

Pat made a noise. "That reminds me. I should check that shoulder again."

Joe visibly flinched. "I'm fine."

The older woman cocked her head and placed one hand on her hip. "You may be fine, but I'm right. You work at those buttons while I get my kit."

As Pat rose and moved away, Adam began to speak, partly to hold Joe's attention and keep him from bolting. "So, two years ago Fenton and Pettis were rusting cattle by changing their brands. We know now there was more of it going on in the area that no one was aware of. Joe caught them at it and they tried to kill him."

"Came darn near tootin' to doin' it too!" Ern exclaimed.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "Sheriff Truslow did everything in his power to impede the investigation. It seems Truslow was always around – until Pettis and Fenton were caught – and then, he was nowhere to be found. Those two later died in his custody – just as James or Jimmy Flanders was found dead in his presence; Jimmy, whom we now know knew something about the rustlers. If the three of them were witnesses to Sheriff Truslow's involvement, they were conveniently – and quietly – eliminated."

Pat was fussing over Joe's wound. His brother was bearing up admirably.

"And after Joe confronted Bob, someone tried to kill him too," Ern added.

"I'm thinking someone had to be watching our place," Pat said as she began to button Joe's shirt. "How else would they have known that Joe and Julia were up at the Russell's cabin?"

"What about this Ed Flanders?" Adam asked. "Do you know he's trustworthy?"

"I've known Ed half my life. I'd swear he's a good man," Pat said as she rose to her feet and returned to where she'd been sitting. "But then, I would have said that about Bob Truslow too."

"How's he doing?" Adam asked, even as Joe rolled his eyes.

Pat looked right at his brother. "Joe should be in bed, not traipsing around God's country."

Adam knew a chill of fear. "What's wrong?"

Joe was glaring at her, willing her to keep quiet.

"Fever. He's got a good one going."

"Is the wound infected?"

Pat hesitated. "It's hot, but there's no other sign."

"See, I'm fine!" Joe declared like any five-year-old would.

"Can he go on?"

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!"

Adam gave him a 'Pa' look. "Can he?"

Pat's smile was affectionate – and unsure. "I don't see how we're gonna stop him," she replied softly.

The man in black sat where he was for a moment and then rose to his feet and went to his brother's side. Once there, he swung toward Pat. "I'd like to speak to Joe alone for a moment if that's all right."

Pat nodded and then reached out to touch Ern's arm. "You come with me, boy. You look like you've been weaned on a pickle. Let's get some grub into you."

After the pair disappeared around the wagon, Adam dropped to his haunches beside his brother.

Joe arms were folded across his chest and his chin was thrust out.

Not a good sign.

"Well?" his brother demanded. "What do you want?"

"So, what scheme do you have cooked up?"

There it was – that 'innocent as an angel look' he knew only too well.

"Scheme?" Joe squeaked. "Me? I'm not planning anything."

"R…ight. And the moon's made of swiss cheese."

Little brother shrugged. "You heard Pat. I'm sick. I don't have the strength to try anything."

"Joe, look at me." He waited until his brother did as he asked. The signs were there. Joe's eyes were glassy, his color high. A thin sheen of sweat covered his skin. "I want the truth. Your life – mine and Pat's – and Julia's count on it."

Joe glared at him. "I can't…I won't sit here while you go on without me. You leave me behind, Adam, and I swear I will follow you on foot!"

At least, maybe that way, the action would be over before he arrived.

Adam ran a hand over his face. "Look, Joe. I don't intend to leave you behind unless you force me to by being dishonest with me. Tell me, what are you planning?"

His brother's gaze flicked to the wagon behind which Pat and Ern sat.

"So you enlisted an innocent in your multifarious scheme?" the man in black chided gently.

Joe's jaw tightened as his temper flared. "I knew you would do this. I knew you would try to protect me and stop me!"

"And what does Ern have to do with that?"

His brother snorted. "He has three older brothers!"

This was a hard one. Still, it had to be said.

"On top of the fact that Ern's in love with Julia and would do anything to see her safely home."

Joe started to protest, but then nodded. "He's been in love with her since he came to work for the Griswolds."

"But she never returned it?"

He shook his head. Then Joe cleared his throat. "She was…." He murmured something.

"What?"

"She was waiting for me." Joe breathed out a sigh. "She took care of me when I was shot. I was out of my head. I hardly remember."

"But she does."

Joe nodded.

"So, tell me, did she give you a sponge bath?"

The question took Joe so off-guard he was speechless for a moment. Then that left hook shot out. If it hadn't been for the fact that his brother was weak, he would have ended up on his arse.

Adam laughed as he rose to his feet, but sobered quickly. He held a hand out and waited until Joe took it. He did not miss the fact that his ornery, pig-headed and obstinate brother who insisted he was 'fine', let him help him to his feet. When Joe made to pull away, he gripped his arm more tightly.

"You and Hoss had a secret pact when we were kids. An oath you made that could not and would not be broken. I need that oath from you."

Joe frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Obviously you didn't know I was listening outside the door either," he said with a wry smile. Adam held out his hand in a particular way.

"What do you want me to do, pinky swear?" Joe snorted.

He turned his hand and placed it at a right angle to his brother's. Then he gripped his wrist. "Swear, Joe. Swear to me you won't go off on your own, and that if you get to feeling that you can't go on, you won't. Admitting you 'can't' doesn't make you less of a man. I know – Pat knows – that you would give your life for Julia. I'm sure Julia knows that too, but I'm just as sure she would want you to choose to live." He paused, unsure of whether he should go on. "I could add that Pa would be devastated if anything happened to you, but you already know that." His brother was eyeing him oddly. "This is for me, Joe. I need you to live. I…already lost Hoss. I don't think I could make it if I lost you too."

He expected his brother to snap out something smart about him not caring, about his going away and deserting them, but he didn't. Joe continued to stare for a moment before he shifted his fingers and gripped his wrist in that certain way.

Then, he walked into the trees.

He wanted to follow him. For all he knew this could be the moment where little brother and Ern put their supposedly non-existent scheme into motion. But he didn't. He gave Joe his trust.

Just like he was asking Joe to trust him.

ooooo

Even as he acknowledged that it wasn't the brightest thing to do, Joe pushed on into the woods. He was in turmoil. Everything that was in him demanded action. He knew Julia was in imminent peril, but he had no way to back up just why he felt that way to his imminently practical older brother. Pa would have understood. It was something he and Pa shared; an innate ability to sense when someone they loved was in danger. Hoss had it too, though not as strongly. Joe turned and looked back toward the camp. It wasn't that Adam didn't care or wasn't intuitive. It was more like he suppressed it. Pa told him one evening, when they sat before the fire, that he regretted allowing older brother to go to college. It wasn't that Pa regarded Adam's education as a mistake, but he said he should have seen the warning signs. Adam lost something when he went East. In order to survive, older brother wrapped himself up in knowledge and made it his god, because he thought that god was safer than the mercurial one that had let his mother and two step-mothers die. Facts and figures, marks on a ledger, science and scientific facts were sure and certain things upon which he could rely. The trouble was, those things might keep a man afloat in Boston, but not so much in the West where he had no more control than a twig being driven down a swollen river.

Joe's smile was wry. 'God's country' they called it.

They got that one right.

He'd been to cities. As a young man he'd found them exciting and enticing – especially the women. While brother Adam had pulled in, he'd always lived life full-out. It had gotten him into a lot of scrapes. There were a couple he still marveled he'd come out of alive. It seemed to him that he was hunting something. As a boy he thought it was excitement. Now he recognized it as a desire for danger – as if he dared the world to put an end to the constant pain that gnawed at his soul. He regretted now the grief his actions had caused his family. Since Jamie had come into their lives, he'd begun to understand what it was to be and to feel like a father. Joe snorted and ran a hand through his curly hair to brush it back from his forehead. He'd have to remember to tell Adam that one! He was responsible for Jamie, and he was bound and determined that nothing would happen to the kid, for Jamie, but more for himself. Thank God Jamie was nothing like him! The kid got into trouble, but he did it by accident or because, like Hoss, he was trying to help someone else. His own troubles – being cold-cocked more times than he could count, beat up, kidnapped – all lay squarely at his own feet. Pa said his Ma had been the type to 'rush in where angels fear to tread'. Pa didn't think she was a fool – the older man didn't think that of him either – but he knew they both leapt before looking and didn't check to make sure there was a safe place to land before they did.

Joe raised a hand and pushed a branch aside and made his way into a small glade. He paused at its heart, in the shadow of a Weeping Willow, to listen to the whisper of its leaves and the quiet song of the birds they sheltered. Evening was approaching. They'd wasted nearly a whole day. He knew what Adam was doing – giving him time to build strength – but the waiting was just as bad.

It just might kill him.

As Joe stood there, in the quiet and the encroaching dark, he heard a sound. Someone was on the other side of the trees. He hunkered down behind the willow's trunk and remained still for a minute or so, and then slowly made his way to the other side of the tree's dangling branches. Through their living canopy he saw a man. He appeared to be breaking camp. Smoke from a recently damped fire rose into the air. As Joe watched the man rose and walked to his horse. There was something familiar about him. He was older, maybe a little younger than Pa. His form was lean and sinewy and he walked like a man who was well-acquainted with the saddle. His hat was pulled down over his eyes so Joe couldn't see his face, but there was something familiar about that too. It was gray, with a plain braided leather band. The man was wearing a gray and blue plaid shirt with a gray vest. The checked pattern was small….

Ed Flanders.

Joe grinned and started to part the branches, but then stopped.

What was Ed doing here – alone?

Where was Pa?

Joe withdrew into the shadows as he continued to ponder the evidence of what he'd found. Pa'd told him, two years before when he was shot, that Ed – like Sheriff Truslow – had been less than helpful in the search for his attackers. They came to find out that his son had been killed not too long before, but he'd always wondered why that mattered? Not the boy's death, but how it mattered in the light of looking for the men who wanted him dead. He moved forward to look at Ed again. The older man was standing by his horse, gazing toward the northwest – almost as if he was waiting for someone. Maybe that someone was Pa. Joe strongly suspected that Ed's boy had been killed, not by a brother seeking justice, but by rustlers in an attempt to keep their schemes quiet. It could even have been Fenton and Pettis that did the deed. They'd proven themselves to be cold-blooded killers.

So, if Ed was seeking justice, perhaps he was alone. Maybe he'd ditched Pa somewhere along the way. A new sound caught his attention and Joe looked. Two other horses had pulled up alongside Ed's. Neither was his father. One man he didn't recognize, but the other one he knew all too well.

It was Amos Pettis, the father of the man who had tried to kill him and a cohort of the dirty sheriff, Robert Truslow.

Noting his vulnerable position, Joe slipped even further back into the shadows to listen. From where he was he couldn't make out many of their words, but what he did hear set his hackles on edge. Joe ran his hand through his hair again, thinking. What if Ed was dirty like Truslow and he'd done something to Pa? If he didn't move closer, he wouldn't know if the men mentioned him.

But did he dare?

"You're worried about Joe."

Adam jumped. He turned toward Pat Griswold and smiled. "Always."

"He's a keeper, that one."

"You'd approve if Joe asked and Julia accepted his proposal?"

She nodded. "From what I've seen of that boy, he's honest as the day is long. I know he's a hard worker and, better than that, I met his Pa." Pat smiled. "And his brothers. You Cartwrights are something."

"We're also pig-headed, opinionated, obstinate and…." Adam laughed. "Accident prone."

The older woman sighed. "I thought we were gonna lose your brother that first time we met him. When Ern and the boys brought Joe in, I saw the wound in his leg and didn't think it was too bad. Then I pulled open his shirt…." She fell silent for a moment. "I sent for the doctor, but I thought Joe was a goner. After that his fever went so high that Doc Scully thought, if he did live, he might be an idiot." Pat looked straight at him. "But that boy fought. Joe fought in a way I haven't ever seen before – to live for his Pa, for his brothers. I know if I place Julia in his hands, that he will keep her safe."

"Joe would give his life without thought to save anyone he loves," he agreed.

Pat chuckled. "It's that 'without thought' part that's the only thing gives me pause."

Adam laughed too. "I will admit, I often despaired that Joe would ever see the high side of eighteen. I didn't leave home until I saw a change in him. Somewhere around twenty-three, he turned from a boy to a man."

"Your pa's right proud of him. Of all of you."

Adam was silent a moment. "Pa is a remarkable man. I don't know that I could have survived everything he's survived. Losing three wives…a son…." He stopped abruptly and looked around. It was only then he realized Joe had not returned. "Have you seen him? Joe, I mean?"

Pat shook her head. "Not since he walked off into the woods."

Adam pulled his pocket watch out and checked it. Joe had been gone over a half an hour.

"Good Lord," he breathed.

"What?"

"He promised me," he growled between gritted teeth. "I am going to mop up the forest floor with that curly head of his!" Turning, Adam shouted, "Ern!"

The boy came running. "Yes, sir, Mister Cartwright?"

He'd have to correct that later.

"Come with me. We need to find my brother."

Pat placed a hand on his arm. "If Joe made you a promise, he won't break it."

Adam nodded even as he started to move.

Unless his pig-headed, opinionated, and obstinate little brother had found a loophole.

ooooo

It took them about fifteen minutes. Joe had wandered pretty far afield. Adam cursed himself every step of the way for being foolish enough to let the kid out of his sight. He'd spent the time it had taken them to arrive thinking about his brothers – about Joe and Hoss. One incident in particular had come to mind. One he hadn't thought of for years. He and Pa had been riding the range. Hoss was busy shoeing horses and Joe – Little Joe – was supposed to move a thousand head of cattle from one pasture to another. He got home and found the kid playing at being D'artagnan and – after a long and frustrating day in the saddle – lost his temper. Really lost his temper. He'd insulted Joe's mother, Joe had insulted his back, and then they'd gone for each other's throats.

It seemed so long ago now and so impossible to think that he'd ever treated his baby brother that way.

Now, as an even older and wiser man, he understood what the problem had been. The 'baby' in the family was growing up, fulfilling his duties and becoming a man and he, well, he couldn't handle it. Yes, Joe at seventeen was devil-may-care and at times he'd considered him irresponsible, but little brother was no more irresponsible than any boy his age who had been born into the comfort of a secure home and a family filled with love. Joe's very recklessness spoke of the fact that he knew there was someone to watch his back – someone there who would always take care of him.

And now, he'd failed him.

Pat was standing with one hand on her hip, looking into the distance. She was talking to Ern, who was looking at her.

He was looking at the ground; at the confusion of prints that told a story he did not want to read. As a matter of course Adam had noted the make and mark of his brother's boots. Old dogs seldom learned – or forgot – old tricks. Joe had been walking, taking his time, and no doubt thinking. He stopped and dug in his heels and then back-tracked. Then – the Devil take him! – he advanced again. Where Joe stopped there were three sets of prints, all trampling on the other as if a struggle had taken place, and then two emerged, dragging the third.

Joe had been taken.

He had no idea by who, or why.

"So what are we gonna do?" Pat asked as she came to his side.

"Follow them," he replied as he got to his feet. "Hope they lead us to Julia."

"You think the same men took Joe what took Miss Julia?" Ern asked.

He didn't know who else would be out here, gunning for his brother. In his father's world, this would be seen as God's hand – a providential stroke that would bring an end to evil. He wasn't so sure. In his life – all forty-plus years of it – he had learned that evil often won unless good was very, very careful.

"I think so," he answered at last. "Who else would be out here and interested in taking Joe?"

"To keep him quiet?" Pat asked.

He nodded.

Quiet, yes.

He only prayed it wasn't quiet as the grave.

ooooo

To be continued….

ooooo