Chapter

At First Sight

In the end it was decided that Jeb would lead the posse and Roy would remain back at the jailhouse. He'd be the better one to act as a liaison between cities and continue to solve this thing from his end. It was Jeb's idea that he be allowed to lead the posse. Something about losing two deputies lit a fire in him to see this through.

Seven other's had volunteered to ride with Ben. All but two were close friends. Mike and his son Harvey Gunther who were ranchers on the other side of town whom Ben had helped establish. John Hinkly who worked at the feed store. Kyle and Jack Lawson who were brothers, old ranch hands whose talents were in breaking horses. They left the Cartwright's employment to get into the occupation of breeding them instead. Laurel Wilson and Melvin Gazaway, miners who happened to be at the saloon when they overheard Jeb ask John. They were looking for a change of scenery. Those seven men complete with Ben, Adam, Clancy and Jeb made 11 strong.

After filling up on provisions, Adam led the group out to the spot where the tracks split from the road. The group followed them into the heart of the forest. About 10 miles into their journey a set of wheels indicating horse and buggy joined the tracks of horses they were already following.

~.~

Hoss had stopped a few times throughout the day to let Chubb rest and arrange the rocks or tree branches, whatever he had readily available to him at the time. He'd set them up in just a way to let the group he knew was coming behind him have an easier go at keeping the trail. An arrow to point the direction and an "H" to mark the author and he'd be on his way again.

~.~

"Great job Hoss." Adam boasted his brother silently, when he realized the marks on the earth were left for them. Hoss was making the trail clear and easy to follow. Leaving clues like arrows and the letter "H" when the tracks went over rocky terrain or got muddled up. They had a lot of time to make up for and a lot of ground to cover. Any amount that his middle brother could speed things along for them was much appreciated.

~.~

A man stepped into the jailhouse, hat kept low. It was a face Roy didn't recognize.

"Hello mister. You don't have any sort of an emergency going on I hope. As you see we've already got a little bit of a thing going on."

"Take your time. I can wait." The young man took a seat at the desk. The sheriff was talking to another man in a hushed tone.

"Thanks doc." He said with a pat on the shoulder. When the man walked out Roy directed his attention to the new arrival.

"Now, how can I help you?"

"I just need some help finding someone."

"Well, maybe I can help you out maybe I can't. Now just who is it you happen to be looking for?"

"I'm looking for the Cartwright's."

"The Cartwright's. huh?"

"You know them?"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard of them." Roy casually got up from his desk and walked to the open door peering outside. What he was looking for he wasn't sure. The one deputy he had left was long gone, leading the posse. Perhaps what he was looking for was anybody out of place. Anybody that might be showing an extra interest in the jailhouse. The streets appeared to be naturally busy. Nothing was out of place. The young man watched Roy curiously.

Roy turned quickly pulling his revolver from his holster. The man jolted upright and instinctually reached for his sidearm before his senses kicked in and realized the lawman had the drop on him. His hand stopped nowhere near his holster. "Now just pull your gun out slowly and set it on the desk. The young man obeyed. Roy walked cautiously back to his desk and drug the gun to his top drawer and placed it inside.

"Now why don't you go ahead and explain to me who you are and just why it is you would be looking for the Cartwright's."

~.~

"Stop here." Chapman ordered. They were on the edge of a thirty foot precipice. A large green valley stretched out below. Black smoke rose from a small campfire before dissipating into the atmosphere. Two men sat around it. A covered wagon nearby. Squirrely was down there with them. He'd recognized this area as the route his family would use when driving the cattle to California. There were trees beyond the open field below that hid within them a river. Rubicon River. It was an ideal resting place. As picturesque as it was bountiful to the emaciated and the fatigued. "Dismount." Were they finally resting? Joe did as he was told. The sun would be setting in an hour or more.

After a full days ride that started at about two in the morning Little Joe would welcome the chance to sleep it off. The temperature was dropping and the brisk air felt good on his reddened cheeks. The fact that his face wasn't cooling off with the barometer Joe wondered if there was more to it than just added layers. The others had jackets though lighter than his they seemed to be fairing might's better than he. His bodily reaction seemed a bit extreme. His head has been hurting since about 10 in the morning. A lowly pain just below the surface, but threatening to flare up and turn into a full blown migraine. He wondered if the flush in his face was somehow connected.

Little Joe wasn't allowed to watch the conversation Squirrely was having with the new faces. He was pushed back out of their view and told to sit beneath a tree. Forced to rest. He couldn't complain about that. Squirrely rode back up to them and gave Chapman a subtle nod. Chapman nodded to Bogs who understood exactly the meaning of the nod.

"Stand up." Joe looked to one man, then the other. They seemed to share something between them. He reluctantly stood and faced down Chapman. Bogs pulled Joe's arms behind him and secured his wrist.

"What's this for? I haven't tried to betray you."

"Before you've had more of a reason not to. The rules are about to change. Open your mouth." Joe gave him a questioning look. I guess he didn't respond quickly enough because Bogs yanked his hair back and at Joes shock shoved a neck scarf into his gape. Before Joe could spit the foul thing out another was wrapped around his mouth and head keeping the first in place. He tried to fight it away but in the end lost the battle. This was his first taste of their physical brutality.

"What's the matter Little Joe? Are you too good for this? Growing up in that rich house of yours turn you into a softy?" Does one have to be a softy to not want someone else's dirty sweat rag in their mouth? Joe ruminated giving Bogs a peevish look.

"Now were about to go down there. I don't want one word out of you. Not one word, you hear me?" Joe considered what he was agreeing to. He begrudgingly nodded. They walked him down the hill like this bound and gagged, Squirrely guided the horses down behind them. They walked to the two men warming themselves by the fire. Plates of half eaten food at their feet.

His hands were tied and he'd been forbade to speak. If they were about to meet strangers he wondered how these men planned on explaining their captive to these new faces. The two men turned to face the on-comers, then stood to greet them like good Christian men. Both young men. In their twenties. One considerably more naïve than his companion judging by the look on his face. He sure would hate for these innocent men to be killed. The elder one looked at Joe then at Chapman. Perhaps the yarn had already been spun. Horse thief, or murderer, or this guy disgraced my sister's honor; something other than what was real. Perhaps that was what Squirrely was doing with them before they'd come in. Spinning the yarn.

"Remember, not one word." Joe eyed him. Like how was he supposed to say anything with a rag in his mouth that tasted like sweat? The moment of truth.

"You're late." These men knew them. "Wasn't sure if you'd make it at all." Why was Chapman warning him then? Why wasn't he allowed to speak?

"Did you have doubts?" The new face considered, then relaxed.

"Yeah, I guess not." The new face eyed Joe. Chapman pressed his fingers to his lips to which Joe gave a shrewd look not understanding the reason for Chapman's superfluous caution. Chapman pulled Joe around to the side of the wagon and pointed out.

"See there?" Danny lay prone. His hands were tied behind him to the back wagon wheel. His knees drawn into his chest. His eyes were covered with a dark blue scarf. Bruises revealed themselves from everywhere the scarf didn't cover. The left side of his face taking the majority of the abuse but his right side not escaping all together. His shirtless form was a mass of colors. All at once Joe tried to yell past the cloth, but Chapman pressed a finger to his lips again, reminding him of his vow of silence. They've got to be crazy. Joe thought. He moved to run to him but was held back. Chapman whispered in his ear about as calmly as he could. "If he figures out you're here, he's going to suffer for it." Joe yielded to the ominous threat.

Chapman directed his two escorts to take Little Joe to a tree on the outskirts of the camp which they did. They tied him to the base of an adolescent Jeffry Pine, facing into the camp. From where he sat he had a full view of the camp and of Danny's still form, but he was kept far enough away to keep him from causing a stir. If he shouted out now within the rags his cries wouldn't reach Danny. They wanted Little Joe to see Danny. To know he was there, but not Danny to know Joe was there. What could they be planning?

The two men offered their new arrivals campfire beans and bread, washed down with water. Chapman pointed to the food then to Little Joe. The young one served up a plate, grabbed up a canteen, then walked them both out to him. He kneeled before him setting the canteen down and pressed his finger to his lips. Joe eyed him questionably. He ignored Joe's scrutinizing gaze. He didn't make his own threats. He took the chance that Chapman's threats were enough and pulled Joe's outer rag so it hung about his neck. Joe spit out the other as soon as he could.

"Why? Why can't he know I'm here?" Joe rasped. He was dying of thirst but this seemed to be the first thing that came out. The young man glanced back at the camp as if he was afraid the question would be overheard. He lifted the plate without answering and brought a spoon to his mouth. Joe jerked away. The young man stopped, wondering if Joe was going to give him problems. "Water." Joe humbled. He picked up the canteen and let Joe have his fill. Joe drank until the canteen was near empty, making up for the water he'd been denied throughout the day. When Joe pulled away so did the young man.

"Enough?" He asked. Joe nodded. He picked the plate up again and brought the spoon to his lips. This time Joe accepted it graciously. The water had filled his stomach, but he knew he would have to get some food past it. He didn't know when he'd be given the chance to eat again. He would have to eat this now while he had the chance. Besides if he was ever going to be in a position to help Danny he would need to be at his best.

"What's your name?" Joe asked as he finished the plate, trying to humanize the man. He contemplated Joe's question then responded.

"Look, all they want is the money. Do what you're told and everything will work out for you."

"What about Danny?" The young man looked out at the camp. He sighed and picked the rag off the wild grass. Whatever that was supposed to mean, it wasn't good. He looked at Joe to see if he would open his mouth willingly. Joe considered defying him but submitted. He's got to pick and choose his battles. He didn't know how much of his defiance would come back to hurt Danny. He had this dirty rag in his mouth already. Why not again? The young man shoved it in and put the outer one back in place. He picked up the plate and canteen and went to move but stopped.

"Junior. The men call me Junior." He stood and rejoined the group.

He was a curious young man. The type of kid that wouldn't choose this lifestyle had he not had someone to pull him into it. He was subservient to the others. Strangely obedient. Not like a servant or slave but of one who's accepted to step back and stop making decisions for himself. He didn't seem like he really enjoyed being here. Little Joe wondered if the young man regretted at all his life's decision's. The ones that led him to be a part of this group. He wondered if he would be able to reach him at all. To appeal to his better nature. If he had a better nature. He would need more time with him to know. He hadn't heard any names attached to the older one. If they had called him anything it was out of Joe's hearing range. He decided that until he heard anything otherwise he would call the older one Senior. Junior and Senior. Seemed appropriate.

The men had their fill. Except Danny. Nobody went to feed him. Joe wondered if they'd fed him before their arrival. It had been hours now since they came in. The sun was down and the only light now came from the glow of the fire. Danny hadn't complained or asked for food. In fact he hadn't moved an inch since they got there. He laid so still, it made Little Joe wonder if he was even really alive. He couldn't tell if he was sleeping or dead or what. He got his answer in about an hour more. After taking a big swig from his canteen Bogs looked back at Danny. The men seemed to be talking about him. Bogs got up from the fire and walked over to the still form canteen in hand. He said something to Danny Joe couldn't hear. Danny didn't move. Bogs responded with a slap to his already bruised face, which shocked Joe and made him want to jump to them. But he couldn't budge an inch off the ground. Held back by the ropes tied tight around his wrist and then to the base of the tree. Danny drew his knees in tighter and buried his face as best he could to ward off further unseen attacks. Little Joe could feel his anger rise. At this moment he really wished his hands weren't tied. He would love the chance to take him on. Bogs grabbed a fistful of Danny's hair and pulled him up to an almost sitting position, holding his head in place. Joe peered in intently. Bogs put the canteen to his lips and poured the liquid down his throat. Danny drank greedily taking the liquid in. After a moment Danny began to pull back but the big man held his head in place and continued to pour seeming to get some amusement from it. Little Joe watched helplessly. Unable to control the flow Danny spit up a mouthful of water and tried pulling back again. Struggling to get air in he coughed and choke, and spit up what he couldn't swallow. The big man backhanded him. Little Joe winced.

"Disgusting."

That word had made it to Joe's ears. Bogs shoved Danny down and wiped his hand against his pants. Danny balled up again, still coughing, but cowering as if he expected more abuse would follow. As if on cue Bogs unbuckled his belt, pulling it from his pants and folded it in half. He swung it down, snapping it across the bundled form. Joe's nostrils flared again. He struggled against his ropes. Danny couldn't be more helpless than he was right now. Tied and blinded and still they abused him. He swung down on him again. Joe felt the heat rise within him at every strike. Pick and choose your battles. He thought again. He felt so much hatred for him right now. If he could, this would be a battle he would gladly pick.

Every strike forced out a whimpered grunt as Danny tried to fight through the pain. Chapman looked up at Joe who was struggling against his binds with a look of determination. If Joe broke loose that could mean trouble. Those would be complications they didn't need.

"Bogs. That's enough."

Bogs gave a kick into Danny's shins and swung his belt over his shoulder, walking back to the group triumphantly. One thing he could say for Danny, was that as hurt as he was, and how much they continued to hurt him, he took it. Never once did he beg for them to stop. Maybe it was because he already had it in his mind to give up. Oh, he just had to get him out of here. He had to find a way.

~.~

The posse didn't make it much farther than the north side of the lake. The quarter moon shimmered of the vast expanse of water. It was a beautiful resting spot. This lake was familiar to the Cartwright boy's. They grew up looking at it. Fishing in it. Adam used to Bring Hoss and Little Joe out here. He taught them both how to fish. Hoss took to it right away. It took Joe a little longer to get him to take to it. Trying to teach that rambunctious child how to fish. He remembers the struggles he had in trying to get Joe to sit still. Joe was never the type to sit idle. Being caught up with these men like he was must be killing him. This lake was home to him. Joe was his home. Joe was not home though. He was up there ahead. Who could tell how far away he was from his home now?

~.~

Hoss followed the tracks until it got too dark to see anything. He wished he could go the whole night. He'd imagine the men had a pretty good leg on him. He knew Chubb would need the rest though. If he wanted him to keep going for him. He would need the rest. Loon Lake was where the tracks had led him and where he decided to bed down for the night. It was a beautiful spot. Picturesque how the quarter moon shimmered off the water. If he hadn't had so much on his mind and wasn't as plum wore out as he was he might have found a bit more enjoyment in it.

~.~

The hours passed and the camp went still as the men bedded down. They took watch in increments leaving one man awake and tending the fire. Chapman held the first watch.

They left Danny and Joe where they were. Danny remained curled up like he was and Joe tied to a tree. He watched the young man curl in tighter as the temperature dropped. Joe was still stuck under his layers. His face reddening more. He knew it was a good idea to bring the jacket, but he never got a chance to give it up. He'd forgotten to ask. Right now he was feeling too hot and he knew Danny was feeling too cold. If Danny wasn't allowed to know he was here, he doubted they'd let him have his coat.

The night was long and Joe slept very little. He found himself dozing in and out. He awoke to every movement in the camp, every change in shift. Chapman relinquishing guard to Junior when his shift was over. He watched through weary eyes to see a single figure moving about in the dim light of the dying fire. Junior fed the fire with a few more logs to give it new life. The young man looked back at their shirtless captive then up towards Little Joe. He played around with his own bedding. He took what he was using for a pillow and walked over to the shirtless form unfolding it. It had apparently been his own jacket. He laid it over Danny then swaddled himself back in his blankets, picking the fire poker off the ground and moving about the logs.