FIFTEEN

ooooo

"Is it always this hard, Ma?" Julia Griswold asked.

Her mother, who as usual was busy with practical things, turned and looked at her. "Is what always this hard?"

Julia sighed. "Loving someone."

The older woman stared at her a moment before coming to her side. They had established a camp after Joe and his brother took off in order to wait for them. Ern had remained behind and was out hunting for something to cook for supper.

Her ma ringed her shoulders with an arm. "Not always. There's good times. Happy times. But there are hard times too – sickness and sorrow, times you disagree." She laughed. "Times you find a man so pig-headed and obstinate and just dead wrong that you want to box his ears and send him to bed without any supper like the little boy he is."

Julia looked at her mother. "Pa made you that mad?"

She nodded. "It's the way with men and women. We make them mad enough to spit nails too."

"How do you ever…well…stay together then?"

Her mother squeezed her shoulder and released her. "Love, child. It's love that binds a man and woman and holds them fast against what comes, good or bad."

"I love Joe, Ma. I really do."

"I know you do. I can see it in your eyes when you look at him. Besides," Ma said as she returned to her work, "you haven't talked about anything but Joe Cartwright since you first saw him."

"Do you…?" She was almost afraid to ask. "Do you see the same thing in his eyes when he looks at me?"

Her mother stopped what she was doing. "Julia, come here and sit down."

"What is it, Ma?"

"Just do as I say."

She felt a little queasy as she did, like she didn't want to hear what her mother had to say. What if Joe didn't love her? What would she do then?

Her mother reached out and placed a hand over her own. "First of all, Julia, that young man loves you." When a smile broke over her face, the older woman went on. "Secondly, there are many kinds of love. Sometimes love just happens. It's when a man sees a woman across a park and knows he's going to marry her. They know nothing of each other, and they join together so they can learn. Then, there's a kind of love that's hungry. One that needs more than it gives."

"Joe's very giving, Ma. He really is."

"I know. That's the third kind of love. A love that grows out of a need to protect someone." She paused. "Out of a need to be needed."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not necessarily. It's what God created men for, to take care of the women they love." She hesitated. "I've only one caution, child."

"What's that?"

"That kind of love can be stifling to a strong-headed woman. These last two years, since your Pa died, you've had to grow up and take on more than your share."

"It's okay, Ma. You've been sick."

"No, it's not. You should have been going into town to socials and meeting boys who'd tell you how pretty you are and who'd turn your head with their nonsense."

"I don't want a boy, Ma," she said quietly. "I want Joe."

"He's a good man. I won't say otherwise," Ma said as she stood. "I'm just saying, well, take it slow until you know one another better."

"I know him. I do."

Her mother placed one hand on her hip and cocked her head to look at her. "That may as well be, but you listen and do as your mother says. And right now, she's telling you to get over here and help with this washing."

"Ah, Ma…."

"Idle hands, child, are the Devil's tool. Besides, the time will go a lot faster if you keep busy."

Julia turned to look to the north, in the direction Joe and his brother Adam had gone. "Do you think he's okay, Ma?"

"That's in the Lord's hands. Now, come on over here and we'll pray while you're scrubbing pans."

ooooo

Ben Cartwright's head snapped backward from another blow.

"You'll tell us what we want to know, Cartwright, or your friend will die!" Thomas Fenton snarled.

As he licked blood from his lip, the rancher considered the threat that had been leveled at him ever since he'd been dragged into a line shack and his interrogation had begun. Fenton and Truslow wanted to know what he knew – how many men were marshaling against them and when they were coming. Beyond the walls of the tiny building chaos reigned. It was hard to dismantle so large an operation in one night, but the outlaws were trying. Herd after herd of cattle were being moved out. Men were busy taking apart fences and other standing structures. Within the box canyon the sounds of hammering, shouting, and bellowing were nearly enough to drive a man mad. He'd been bound to a chair hand and foot. Questions came rapid-fire as bullets. At first that was all it was, but after he failed to give them what they wanted, the beatings had begun. And all the while they threatened Damien's life. He hadn't seen the lawman since he'd been dragged in here. For all he knew, he was already dead. He had to ask himself, did he dare betray nearly a hundred men – some of them his neighbors and co-workers – for the sake of one man who might no longer be among the living?

He knew what Damien would say.

"I say we kill him and be done with it," the dirty sheriff growled. "He ain't gonna tell us nothing. We already know there's law on the way. I say we cut our losses and run."

"You would say that. This has always been about the money for you. A sheriff on the take and taking more than his share." Fenton moved closer to the other man. "I have my doubts about you, Truslow. I always have. Ever since my boy was killed."

"It's Joe Cartwright's fault your boy is dead. He's the one got him arrested!"

There was something in the man's tone that smelled of fear.

"Oh, I blame Joe Cartwright too." The rustler turned to look at him. "That's why we aren't gonna kill his pa. We're gonna put him on display and wait for that boy of his to show."

Ben began to struggle against his bonds in earnest. "No! You leave my son out of this!"

Fenton moved across the room quick as a lightning strike and took him by the collar. As he slammed his head back against the wall, he shouted, "Your boy didn't leave mine out of it!"

"Your son was a thief and a killer!"

Thom Fenton came in even closer. "Yeah, Cartwright. Jim was. And so am I."

ooooo

Adam looked at his brother even as he and Ed Flanders talked to the United States marshal, Saul Parker. They'd run across the men who had been traveling with their father a short time before and found out that Pa had ridden into the rustlers' camp in disguise along with a Sheriff named Damien Strait. Strait had been going in to make contact with his men, Luke Benton among them.

Benton was the man who had lost his life bringing them word that their pa had been taken.

Somehow the rustlers had discovered who the two men were. That meant the outlaws were on to them. Obviously, as criminals, they weren't about to hang around now that their operation had been compromised. The remaining lawmen and the marshal had discussed it and decided that Parker – along with several other sheriffs – would divide the men they had with them into three parties and spread out, forming a noose that would tighten around the rustlers as they fled. He and Ed – and Joe – would come in from the remaining side. Their mission was to rescue their pa. One of Parker's men reported that he had seen their father being taken into a shack. He hadn't waited around long enough to see what was happening.

He didn't need to. Adam was pretty sure he knew.

The trouble was, so did Joe.

Adam let out a sigh. He'd considered roping his brother and tying him down to make him stay put, but Ed had spoken against it. When he'd argued that Joe was too sick to undertake such a mission, Ed had disarmed him by agreeing. 'Makes no nevermind,' the older man said. 'The boy will never forgive himself if somethin' happens to family and he don't at least try'.

Ed was, of course, speaking from experience.

"I haven't had a chance to tell you how sorry I am about your son and what happened," Adam remarked quietly.

Ed nodded. "These men have been gettin' by with evil for far too long. They need to be stopped. Jimmy was a good boy. That little brother of yours kind of reminds me of him. All piss and vinegar." The older man pursed his lips and shook his head. "That boy could build up a head of steam that would blow him into the next county 'fore you knew he'd opened the door."

"That's definitely Joe."

"Your Pa sure loves him," he said, his tone wistful.

Yes, Pa did. He loved them all, but there had always been a special place in the older man's heart for Joe and an unparalleled closeness between them – mostly because Joe needed it. His kid brother was a man now – a brash, confident, so cocksure of himself you wanted to hit him upside the head man – but, inside, in the depths of his wounded soul, there lurked a child who had realized at far too tender an age that loss was real and unbearable grief, but one girlish giggle away.

"Adam. What are we waiting for?!" that brash young man demanded. "We need to find Pa!"

He turned to find Joe behind him. His brother's color was up and his skin, flushed with fever.

Pa was going to kill him for letting him come along.

Adam drew in a breath and let it out…very…slowly. "You know what we're waiting on, Joe. We're waiting on the others to move out. We'll ride along for a while and then slip away. That way the rustlers will be none the wiser."

"Then what are they waiting on?" Joe snapped.

"Son, you need to lasso in that temper of yours," a solid, steady voice remarked. "An angry man is a danger not only to himself but to others, and I won't be letting you put my men in danger. Before I do that, I'll lasso you myself and hog-tie you down." Saul Parker's grin was a thing to reckon with. "One of my men will be by later to fetch you."

Adam bit his lip to contain his own smile. The marshal cut quite a commanding figure; his height and rock-solid stocky build making him an intimidating figure to most men.

Not to Joe.

His slight, five-foot-nine brother went toe to toe with the six-foot-three marshal. Joe didn't poke Parker in the chest – physically, that was – but he might as well have.

"I understand that, but you need to understand this! That's my father who's in the rustlers' hands, marshal, and I intend to save him. I know these men. They nearly killed me twice! They aren't going to be sitting around like we are, content as a ladies' aide society to debate whether to bake pies or cakes for the social! Do you understand?!"

Saul turned and gave him a sympathetic look. "He always been like this?"

"Since birth."

Joe glared at him.

That elicited a shrug.

"I heard you son. Now, you listen to me. I know these men better than you do. I've been tracking them for years and, while I will do everything in my power to make sure your pa comes out of this alive, I will not – and I repeat – not have you jeopardize the entire operation and put dozens of lives in peril for one man." He did jab Joe. "Do I make myself clear?"

Adam held his breath. He was afraid Joe was going to punch the marshal.

Instead, his brother suddenly deflated. He hung his head for a moment and then looked up. "I'm…sorry. I don't want to put anyone else in danger. But," he winced, "could you please make them move a little faster?"

Saul stared at him and then smacked Joe on the back. "You're all right, kid. Matter of fact, we're ready to move out now. The sun's gonna be up soon and we want to be on our way before it rises."

"Come on, Joe," Ed Flanders said as he moved to his brother's side. "Let's go check the horses. Looks like we'll be ridin' soon."

As Ed and his brother moved off, the marshal turned to him. "The kid's pretty sick, isn't he?"

Adam nodded. "It won't stop him."

Saul stared after Joe and then looked at him. "Let's just hope a bullet doesn't do that for him."

With that, he walked away.

ooooo

It was the darkest part of the night, just before morning. Her mother and Ern were asleep. Julia had been asleep as well, but had woken up in a panic after a particularly vivid dream. She couldn't remember much about it. Only one image remained – that of a pretty young woman with light brown hair wearing a calico dress, warning her that Joe was in danger. She'd tried to put it off and go back to sleep, but been unsuccessful. Her mother would tell her it was just a dream, brought on by the fact that she was worried about Joe.

She knew it was something more.

Julia stroked the nose of the horse she had just saddled, hushing it. The animal looked at her expectantly with its soulful eyes. She had no answer for it. She knew what Joe would say if he could see what she was doing. He'd tell her to stay put, that he wanted her safe – that her being in the midst of things would only divide his attention and make room for mistakes.

But Laura's plea had been so plaintive – so compelling. From what Joe said, they had loved one another deeply. She knew, in some ways, he loved Laura still. Just as she knew, if he died, she would love him until she drew her final breath. Laura was giving her warning and she couldn't ignore it.

Moving with stealth, Julia drew the bay roan out of their camp. Once she was free of it, she mounted up and turned the horse's nose in the direction Joe and his brother had gone.

"I'm coming, Joe," she whispered as she checked yet again to make certain Ern's revolver was anchored firmly behind her skirt's waistband. "Wait for me."

And was gone.

ooooo

The marshal and the other men were on their way, heading out in all directions with the intent of surrounding and taking the rustlers and bringing an end to their organization. They'd watched as a thousand head of cattle had been moved during the night, each herd taking a dozen or so of the outlaws in the box canyon along. There were guards in the hills. The lawmen who'd remained with them – deputies from several nearby towns – were moving throughout them, seeking the criminals and neutralizing them. He and Joe, along with Ed Flanders, Clem Foster, and – of all things – Tom Sladen were biding their time until the camp had emptied out enough that they had a chance to move in. They'd talked about storming it, but fear for their father's safety had ruled that action out.

They hadn't seen Pa yet.

One of the deputies who remained had worked with Sheriff Damien Strait. He was just as concerned about his friend as they were about their father. He was a young hot-head, just like Joe, and it had been all they could do to restrain him from taking things into his own hands. Thank God, in the end, older and wiser heads had prevailed. Ed was an asset since he'd been in the camp before and knew the lay-out. Tom Sladen was too, because he had headed up and run a rather shady organization of his own. He and Joe had been chosen to keep watch at the top of the rise while the others went about their business. The sun was up. A new day had dawned and it was going to be a cold one.

Adam let out a sigh.

Joe was sick – too sick to be doing anything other than lying in a bed with some beauty sitting beside it nursing him back to health. That meant nothing to his brother. If there was a chance he could save their father's life, Joe would do it at the cost of his own. Their father was held captive, ill-treated at the best and dead at the worst. The man in black ran a hand along the back of his neck. He'd come home to spend time with his family.

He wondered now if he would leave it alone.

"Adam! You need to come!"

The words were terse and barely audible. He responded immediately.

By the time he arrived, Tom was physically restraining Joe and keeping him from going over the edge of the rise. He moved in beside his brother and followed Joe's glare to the empty camp. Three men stood dead center of an abandoned corral. One was the dirty sheriff, Robert Truslow. The other, a stranger. Last of all – battered and bruised, but still unbroken – was their pa.

Truslow held a gun against his head.

Adam caught hold of his brother's arm. "Joe! Think! They can't know we're here."

"Then why bring Pa out?" Joe demanded.

He glanced again at their father. Pa's face was spattered with blood, as was his shirt. When he moved, it was obvious that it was with pain. It was even more obvious that he older man had been beaten.

"They're baiting us. Trying to get us to make a move before we're ready."

"I am ready!"

"Joe. Listen to me! You can't just run down there and – "

"Cartwright!" a gruff voice called out. "We know you're there. Show yourself now or I'll put a bullet through your old man's head."

Cartwright. Only one.

But which one?

"It has to be me," Joe said. "Truslow knows I know about him. It's why he had me beaten."

Adam frowned. He looked at his baby brother – so eager to die – and nodded. "Don't show yourself. Just call back."

"Yeah, I'm here," he called, "but I'm not alone. You're surrounded by lawmen, Truslow! Let Pa go and they'll let you live!"

Joe glanced at him. Adam nodded. It was all they had to bargain with and he hoped it was true. The lawman who'd stayed behind with them should be in place by now.

Truslow shouted back. "Now, what kinda fool do you think I am, boy? I ain't about to do that. The only way we're gettin' out of here is with a hostage. Your old man ain't lookin' so good." The sheriff paused. "I'm thinkin' maybe we could make an exchange."

Adam shook his head. "Joe, no. Pa wouldn't want you to – "

"I'm going down, Adam. I don't care what you say. This is between me and Truslow." Joe's jaw was tight; his nostrils flaring with fire. "He almost killed me. He did kill Julia's father, and now he's threatening mine. I owe him." Joe turned to look at the scene below. "I own him."

As his baby brother began to scramble over the top of the rise, Adam did the only thing he could.

He turned his pistol so the handle was uppermost in his hand and cold-cocked his brother.

ooooo

Sheriff Robert Truslow watched the lone figure make its way down the hill and into the camp. It was early morning and hard to see, so he waited in expectation for the face of the man who had become his personal demon to come into view. He'd passed his gun over to Jim's father and told him to keep it pinned to Ben Cartwright's head. His men had done a good job on the old man. He was barely on his feet and offered no threat, just as that damn lawman Strait offered no threat. They'd worked him over even better than Cartwright and left him lyin' in his own blood on the floor of the line shack.

Insurance, that's what he called it.

Just in case something went wrong.

Once upon a time he'd been a good man. He'd come out West with his wife and kids and settled just outside of Bridgeport. First of all, he ran a store. After a few years the local sheriff had asked him to become a deputy and he accepted. Molly had been so proud of him. She'd polish his tin star 'til it glittered like silver. Everything had been all right until that night five years back. He'd been sheriff for about six months when he put an end to a band of desperados who'd been terrorizing the citizens of Lone Pines. Or so he thought. Turned out the outlaws had brothers. While he was gone to Carson City, speakin' his piece and puttin' them in prison, their brothers burned down his house with Molly and his young'uns in it. He hunted them down. Found them too, but when it came to them payin' for their crimes – hangin' wouldn't have been good enough – some high-powered lawyer from San Francisco showed up and got them off scot-free.

They paid anyhow, when he gunned them down.

No one knew about it, of course. He was careful to cover his tracks.

After that he went back to sheriffin', even though his heart wasn't in it. Years passed and then, one day, there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find out that he hadn't been as careful as he thought. He'd been seen. The men said they didn't want to tell on him. All they wanted was for him to look the other way while they rustled a few head of cattle. They even paid him for bein' blind and mute. They paid him that time and the next time and the time after that.

He found he liked the money. It didn't take away the pain, but the things it bought did a good bit to numb it.

Everything had been fine until the Cartwright kid showed up. Amos and Thom had sent their boys out to switch brands when the kid stumbled on them. As a cattleman, he knew what they were doin'. When Joe Cartwright took off runnin', there weren't nothin' they could do but hunt him down and kill him.

Only they didn't.

Robert Truslow spit in the dust. Ben Cartwright and his son Hoss were 'good' men, like he'd been once upon a time. He didn't want to hurt them. He'd done his best to put them off the scent, but like bloodhounds they just wouldn't give up. He and Amos and Thom considered killin' all three of them, but decided that was too risky. Thom said if they silenced the young one, that would be enough. The stupid thing was Thom sent boys to do a man's job. Orv and Jim bungled it just like they had the first time and that was the last straw. The only way to keep an organization like theirs in business was to give no quarter. Thom and Amos took it like good soldiers.

It was all over now, of course. He and the other men would scatter to the wind, never to be seen again in this territory. There was just one loose end to tie up. Joseph Cartwright.

That boy owed him.

The dirty sheriff came back to himself as the man beside him – Joe Cartwright's father – let out an exclamation. He glanced at him and then turned back to face the boy who had cost him everything. Only it wasn't him. It was a man dressed in black.

"And just who are you?" Truslow demanded.

The newcomer exchanged a glance with their prisoner before squaring his feet and looking him in the eye. "My name is Adam Cartwright."

God, not another one!

Truslow spat again. "You ain't the Cartwright I want."

"Well, I'm the only one you're going to get. My brother is dead." The muscles in his jaw shifted dangerously. "You killed him. You and your thugs."

Ben Cartwright stiffened. He said nothing, but tears began to trail down his cheeks.

"Well, now, ain't that a shame?" Truslow sneered. "I wanted that pleasure myself."

"Let my father go. I'll go with you peaceably."

"Adam, no!" Ben Cartwright breathed just before a blow silenced him.

Hatred crackled in the newcomer's eyes. "That was uncalled for."

"Maybe," the man replied. "But it felt good."

"My father is an old man," Adam said. "You've killed his son and most likely you will kill me too. What threat will he be? You can tell by looking at him that he's a broken man."

Robert Truslow's gaze went to the elder Cartwright. It was true. His head was hanging down and he appeared unsteady on his feet.

"Take him back to the shack, Thom," he ordered.

"Since when are you giving orders?"

"Since now," the sheriff replied as his gun shifted to the other man. "I got nothin' to lose. You got a wife and sons still livin'. I'd say you do what I tell you."

Thom glared at him before catching Ben Cartwright by the elbow and propelling him toward the shack.

Adam Cartwright had watched the whole thing. He held his arms out. "I suppose you'll want to tie me up."

He'd just reached for the rope when a shout went up. Truslow thought it was Fenton, and that Ben Cartwright had made a break for it. Then he realized his mistake. A second cry caused him to turn back toward the rise. An older man's head was showing above it. There was another man, he was halfway down the hill. As his feet hit the ground, he began to run.

Bob Truslow cursed.

Adam Cartwright wasn't as good a man as he'd thought. He'd told a bald-face lie.

It was Joe Cartwright.

ooooo

To be continued….

ooooo