TWO

oooooooooo

Hoss paused at the door of the saloon and looked back at the stranger whose name was John C. Regan. There'd been something about the man that set his teeth on edge and it had nothin' to do with the snub he'd got when he said his name was Cartwright. Regan was as mean a lookin' cuss as he'd ever see'd and arrogant too – why, his words swaggered as much as he did.

The big man cast his eyes toward the Piper Opera House. Right beside it was where Joe told him he was gonna tether his horse. Hoss grinned. He supposed little brother had done that in case he had to make a quick getaway if Pa showed up. As he stepped off the boardwalk, he squinted against the hellish light that dimly lit the street. Yep. Cochise was there all right. His brother's paint pony was hard to miss with its patches of bright white on a field of black. Hoss walked over to the horse and reached for it, and was surprised when the animal shied away from his touch.

"Hey, Cooch," the big man cooed. "What's wrong with you?" Hoss frowned as he noted Joe's cinch was tossed over the animal's saddle like he'd been tightenin' it and gettin' ready to ride. Droppin' the leather strap back into place, he surveyed the street.

There was no sign of Joe.

The big man let out a sigh as he turned toward the Opera House with all of its hustle and bustle and carriages comin' and goin'. He was just gonna hafta go and find that there woman and ask her what had become of little brother. Maybe Joe had gone back to apologize or maybe….

What was that? The big man paused. He'd heard somethin'…a strange sound…..

Whatever it was, it was comin' from the alley.

A long time ago, when he was a little boy, he'd heard a noise like that out in the wild. Not knowin' what it was he'd moved in slow-like, listenin' and frownin', until he found the source. Turned out it was a young pup what had been near mauled to death by a wolf. Like he did then, Hoss moved with caution, knowin' somethin' was in pain and needin' help, but takin' care less whatever made it hurt was still there.

The alley was black as God's pockets. He couldn't see nothin'. Movin' with caution, the big man walked along it, his fingers brushing the wall of the building to his right-hand side. He'd just about decided he was hearin' things when his foot struck something soft laying on the ground. He used his toe to feel it a bit and realized it wasn't a some 'thing', but a some 'one'. Reaching down Hoss found a shoulder and then his fingers encountered a mass of thick curly hair matted with somethin' sticky.

Time stopped.

Joe.

Hoss reeled, uncertain of what to do. The big man hesitated a second before dropping to his knees and feeling along his brother's slender form. Little Joe didn't move or make a sound. The big man cupped his baby brother's face in his hand and sickened when he felt the blood runnin' over his fingers. Land of Goshen! What had happened? Who could have done this?

He was gonna kill them!

Hoss closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He had to corral his emotions. None of that thinkin' was gonna do Little Joe any good right now.

What should he do?

What would Pa and Adam do?

First thing, he needed to get a fix on how bad beat Joe was. Yeah, that was it. He remembered Doc Martin sayin' it weren't always the smartest thing to move a man due to the injuries he could have inside.

Maybe he should go for Doc Martin.

But no, he couldn't bear to leave Little Joe all alone in this dark alley.

The big man opened his eyes and looked down at his little brother. A single solitary beam of light, cast by a distant source, had worked its way into the alley to illuminate his brother's still form.

He had to put his hand on Little Joe's chest to know for sure the boy was breathin'.

Coming to a decision, the big man slipped his arms under his baby brother's battered body and lifted him up. With Little Joe cradled like a baby against his massive chest, he stepped into the street and then halted, unsure of a direction. The hellish glow of the streetlamps struck the boy's face as he did, revealing the extent of his injuries. What Hoss saw filled him with a deep, unspeakable rage.

Somebody near beat Little Joe to death.

For a second time, the big man was at a loss. He didn't know what to do. Then his little brother, broken as he was, shifted in his arms and gave him the answer.

Joe's bruised lips parted and he breathed.

"Pa..."

ooooooooooo

Ben Cartwright's emotions were in turmoil. He'd known beforehand that Adah would turn his proposal down, and yet held out a slim hope that he was wrong. She was a beautiful, strong, and determined woman; a wonderful woman with a vigorous and expanded mind equal to any man's. Perfect in every way but one.

Adah was blind when it came to John C. Regan.

The pair's dalliance had begun years before when Adah was the toast of two continents and Regan, a well-known and respected prize fighter. If you could 'respect' anyone who made his living by beating other men half to death. They were married briefly, until it became known that her divorce from Alexander Menken, her former husband and manager, was not what one would call 'official'. Ben smiled as he turned the corner and headed for the stairs. He supposed his boys were right. Adah was the 'wrong kind of a woman'. But then that same thing had been said about Joseph's mother. People's tongues wagged and women were destroyed because of youthful misadventures that in a man would be overlooked. Life often became for them a 'school of hard knocks' which they, in turn, grew hard to survive. Like Marie, Adelaide 'Adah' McCord came from New Orleans and was Creole by birth, and like Marie she embodied the free spirit and soul of that great city. Adah would not let others define her.

At least, no one, but John C. Regan.

Ben halted to let a mother and her children pass. The quartet had opened the door in front of him and stepped out into the corridor. He tipped his hat and smiled and let his mind wander, for just a moment, to what kind of a son Adah might have given him.

He laughed out loud.

One Joseph was quite enough, thank you!

As he began to move again, this time nearing the top of the stairs, Ben let out a sigh. Adah's relationship with Regan was complicated, to say the least. Though he had never seen a bruise – and he doubted the brute of a man had hit her, since he could easily have killed her – Regan had battered her all the same. There were women like Marie who – abused by men and the life they had chosen – never lost their spirit. His late wife's abusers had sought to break her spirit, but they had not succeeded. Though Adah appeared to have kept her spirit mostly intact, she was to put it brutally 'damaged goods'. The actress' response when he questioned her choice to live 'half a life' – that maybe 'half a life' was all she was capable of understanding – had saddened him, but it had not been unexpected.

Adah Menken believed that John C. Regan was all she deserved.

Ben descended the stairs quickly and crossed to the hotel desk where the manager waited. He was more than ready to leave this place and head home. As the manager looked up, he held out the room key and said, "I'll be checking out shortly. Would you prepare my bill, please?"

The manager was looking beyond him.

He had the oddest look on his face.

A heartbeat later, his middle son spoke ten words that changed Ben Cartwright's life.

"Pa! Pa. Somebody mite near beat Little Joe to death!"

oooooooooo