TWO
oooooooooo
A few minutes before Hop Sing came running into the dining room shouting, Little Joe had been in high hog heaven. He loved Cadfan, but his Welsh Cob had been chosen for him when he was younger. He was sure he was ready for a man-sized horse. When he'd pressed the issue with Pa a few days back, his father had told him he was only ten and, at thirteen hands, a fourteen hand horse was big enough. Cob's were sensible, strong, and sturdy, Pa said, but most of all, they weren't risk takers.
Why Pa worried about that was still a puzzle.
Anyhow, he'd come out to the barn and taken care of Cadfan, feeding and watering him and bringing him a handful of oats before brushing him down and placing a blanket on his back to ward off the growing chill. It was only September, but he'd lived enough years to know that the weather in Nevada could be as fickle as a woman.
Joe laughed. He'd learned that one from Hoss.
When he got done with Cadfan, he'd gone to the corral to watch the half dozen or so horses they had there and listen to their evening talk. Horses were just like people. They talked to one another, even ordered one another around if they felt like it. It was kind of funny to listen to. Pa's horse was King of the Ponderosa, just like Pa. The others had to go when Buck said 'go' and stop when he ordered them to stop. When Buck was gone, like now, the other horses acted like a herd of young stags testing each other, tryin' to prove who was next best. They didn't mean nothin' by it. Hoss said it was the same with men and, one day, he'd understand what he meant.
He'd been coming out every night now to take care of Cadfan and finish up his chores before slipping into the corral to talk to the horses. They liked him, he knew it. Nobody had a way with horses like he did, unless it was the Indians. Most of the hands treated them like dumb animals, but he knew they were smart. If you talked to a horse, they'd listen.
Especially the horse with the piebald coat.
She was a beauty. Her coat was like silk; white as snow with spots black as a storm cloud. Pa said she wasn't just a pinto, but was a paint, which meant her sire was a quarter horse or thoroughbred. She held herself like a queen. It was silly, but in some ways she reminded him of his mama. Pa said Mama could get that 'look' in her eyes. You didn't know if the next minute she'd tear into you or give you a great big hug and kiss. Adam said Mama was a tease. That had made him mad at first, but then he'd realized Adam wasn't being mean. He was just telling it like it was.
He could be a tease too.
Joe looked to the left and right and then behind to see if Hoss or Adam had come out of the house. When he didn't see them, he climbed up onto the top railing and sat there, watching the horses mill around. He knew Pa didn't like him climbing into the corral when there was no one else with him, but that's when he liked it best. Late at night, like this, it was just him and the horses. He wasn't afraid of them. The ones in the corral were green broke already so they'd had a man on their backs, and while some of them still might not be too happy about it, they were used to people. As he began to shift off the rail, Joe was startled as a gruff voice called out.
"Hey, kid! What do you think you're doing?"
Joe inched back up and turned around. He didn't know where Pratt Shade had come from, but he was standing there bigger than life.
"I'm just watchin' the horses," he said, telling most of the truth.
"Your brothers know you're out here?"
He fought back his temper. "Yes, they know and they don't care," he replied, ending with a lie.
The blond man came and leaned on the fence beside him. "I heard you had a way with horses, kid. Which one's your favorite?"
Joe was confused by the sudden change in the conversation.
"I…I like the paint," he said.
"She's a beauty, but is a bit high-handed." Pratt paused. "She thinks a lot of herself, that one."
He was offended by the man's off-hand remarks about his horse.
"Shows what you know!" Joe snapped. Then he thought better of what he'd been about to say. He didn't want to reveal how often he'd been in the corral alone. "I've watched Adam and Hoss with her. She's got fire, but a good temper."
The blond man snorted as he straightened up. "Sounds like you'll be running the ranch by the time you're thirteen," he chuckled. Then he ruffled his hair. "Be seeing you around, kid. You be careful with those horses."
Joe watched Pratt Shade until he rounded the shed. He must be heading for the bunkhouse. Then he looked around to make sure Bush Sears wasn't coming next. The pair of them were just about like twins. You hardly ever saw one without the other. Adam said they acted like brothers, but they had different names, so Joe thought that wasn't likely. Then again if it had been different and he and Hoss and Adam had had the same mama but a different pa, they would have all had different names too.
Slipping off the railing and onto the rain-soaked ground, Joe entered the corral. He walked a few feet and then stopped and called out the names he had given the horses. You couldn't know someone if they didn't have a name. The big black was Coal. It was kind of a stupid name, but it fit 'cause he loved to roll around in the dust. The bay was 'Berry' because Hoss liked to say he was brown as one. There were a pair of palominos. He called them 'Sunrise' and 'Sunset' since one of them was lighter than the other. And then, there was the paint. He'd thought a long time about a name for her. He wanted an Indian name, since the horse was a paint, but none of them seemed to fit. He knew his pa would have a fit of apoplexy if he called her what he wanted to. It made him sad, what had happened to the Indians. The land he called 'home' had once been their home. And while his pa had come by all his land fair and honest, there were others who had cheated and lied to get what they had. The chief of the Chiricahua had fought – and was still fighting – trying to take back what had been his. He…kind of admired him for it. Not for the killing or hurting people, but for his determination to see justice done.
Justice meant a lot to Joe Cartwright.
He tried the name again. 'Cochise.' Joe mouthed the word without sound, as if feeling it on his lips somehow would make up his mind. The paint was a lady after all and he'd get no end of ribbing for giving his girl horse a boy's name.
And she was his horse. Pa just didn't know it yet. He'd work and take care of her and ride Cadfan until Pa thought he was big enough, but then, he needed her to be his.
As Joe stood there, thinking, several of the horses came up to him. They knew he always carried treats in his pocket, so he doled them out to the half-dozen circling him. With a smile he petted and patted and spoke soft words as he slowly made his way to the place where the corral met the barn. Above the paint's head the big wooden doors were open. Adam was gonna have someone's hide for that! Maybe his, Joe thought with a wry twist of his lips. He'd have to remember to go up and close the doors when he finished with the horses.
The paint was playing hard to get. She was standing next to the barn with her head down, munching on something. It looked like a couple of apples. No wonder she hadn't come his way! He couldn't compete with a sweet treat like apples. Sticking the one he'd saved for her back in his pocket, Joe headed over to the mare. She lifted her head and eyed him, and then went back to her munching. The other horses had followed him and they weren't real happy about her getting a better treat than them, so they started crowding in. One even tried to steal one of the apples. Cochise was having none of that. She lifted her head and snorted, driving the other horse back.
Joe was beginning to think he'd better get out of the corral.
And then it happened.
Something fell straight from the open window of the barn to the mud and trampled grass below. It was dark, so it was hard to see what it was. It lay still for a moment and then began to wriggle. Suddenly, the back end of it coiled up and it reared its head, ready to strike.
Snake!
ooooooooo
By the time he and Hoss reached the corral attached to the barn it was pandemonium. Several of the horses were straining to break through the rails at the back, while the others circled the fenced-in area, running fast as if they were contestants in a race. The night was pitch-black. The moon was playing hide and seek. It was behind a low bank of clouds now, which made it almost impossible to see. Hoss ducked into the barn and was back in a minute, shaking his head.
"No sign of Little Joe," he said, his tone as wary as the eye he cast on the corral.
Adam strained to see past the milling horses. Close to the barn there was a splash of white. It had to be the paint. She was standing still, just under the upper door. The black-haired man frowned as he noted it was open.
"Yeah, I seen it too. You think Joe was up in the hay mow and maybe he dropped somethin' and ran?"
"I don't know why he would have been." He was watching the animals, whose panic showed no sign of abating. "First thing, we have to get the horses calmed."
"I'll go open the gate," Hoss said.
"Right." Opening the gate would, in theory, give the horses what they wanted – a way out of the corral and away from whatever had frightened them. As he watched his brother lift the latch, the black-haired man wondered what had spooked them. There had been no strike of lightning or other natural phenomenon, and they were usually pretty content in the corral where they knew they were safe from predators.
"Doin' it now!" Hoss yelled as he flung the gate wide and stepped back. It took the horses no more than thirty seconds to realize their path to freedom was at hand. First the pair of palominos and then the bay and black headed out.
Leaving the black and white paint standing where she had been.
Hoss waited until the horses had cleared the fence before stepping into the corral. He scanned the muddy area with his eyes narrowed, searching; looking no doubt for whatever had terrified the animals.
It wasn't until he heard a sharp intact of breath that he realized Hoss had been hunting for something else as well.
The big teen ran across the open area and was on his knees in the mud before the words escaped his lips.
"Adam, get in here! It's Little Joe!"
Adam was over the fence and on the move before his brother could draw another breath. By the time he reached the pair, Hoss had gathered Little Joe into his arms and was cradling his small form against his chest.
As he dropped to his knees, the big teen looked at him. "He was under the paint, Adam," he whispered, his voice robbed of strength by awe. "She was watchin' over him."
A quick glance showed him where the pinto's hooves had dug into the ground. They were evenly spaced and just far enough apart that Joe could have lain untouched between them. Even so their brother had not escaped unscathed. Amidst the mud, straw, urine and feces covering him, there was blood.
"Can you tell how badly he's hurt?" he asked.
"One of them got him on the side of the head," Hoss said. "Looks like a hoof caught him."
He could see that. The wound looked shallow, but was bleeding profusely. It was cause for alarm, but not panic.
"Anything else?" the black-haired man asked as he began to run his hands down his brother's limbs, checking to see if any of them were broken.
"Not so's I can tell." Hoss hugged Joe a little tighter. It didn't escape Adam's notice that little brother didn't respond. "What was he doin' in the corral anyhow? You think Joe spooked the horses by bein' in there?"
"We won't know until he wakes up and can tell us." He shot a look at the pinto who was standing by, watching them as if concerned. "We need to get him in the house and send one of the hands for Paul Martin."
Even as the words left his lips, Adam heard a buzz of noise like a hive of bees rapidly moving their way. Several of the men, including Bush Sears and Pratt Shade, appeared.
One look at the scene told it all.
"I'll ride into settlementfor the Doc," Pratt said and was gone before he could give him a nod.
"You need any help?" Bush asked.
Adam shook his head. He was leery to move his brother any more, but he couldn't leave Joe laying in the muck either. There was such risk of infection. "Hoss and I can get Joe to the house." He paused. "We had to let the horses go. Take someone with you and see if you can round them up."
Bush remained where he was, unmoving.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Pratt said he saw the kid earlier, sitting on the rail here and watching the horses. He told him it wasn't the smartest thing to do."
"And what did Joe say?"
"What you'd expect from a kid. He knew what he was doin' and you didn't care."
Hoss had risen to his feet. The big teen held Joe's slender four-feet-six, seventy-five pound body close to his chest. Joe was growing. His legs and arms seemed to be doing it faster than everything else. They dangled down at odd angles, lending him the appearance of a marionette with its strings cut.
Joe might have known what he was doing, but he didn't know what he was going to do….
When he had to face Pa.
oooooooooo
Ben Cartwright shoved the plate of food away from him and leaned back in his chair. He's lost his appetite after the conversation he'd had with one of his chief competitors for the army contract. He'd won the contract and the other man had accused him of collusion with the seller, saying they were of old acquaintance and the Ponderosa had an unfair advantage. While he and Jim Shaw did know each other, Jim was a shrewd businessman and he would have accepted Sebastian Stephens' bid in a heartbeat if it had been better than his. Stephens was an out-of-towner. He'd started life in the East, but had come to Gold Hill not all that long ago from the bay area and was trying to outdo and outbid everyone in an attempt to get in on the ground floor of what he expected to be a booming metropolis in a few years.
He hoped Stephens was right on that account.
The man had followed him to the restaurant and arrived just about the time his steak had. It sat, chilling, while he talked and then railed. Out of respect to the establishment Ben had kept his temper – until Stephens threatened to make him pay. At that point he'd risen, taken the man by the collar and the back of his expensive finely-tooled leather belt, and thrown him out the door and into the dust. After that he apologized to the patrons and the owner and then went back to his seat and started in on his cold steak. The owner offered him a fresh one, but by that time he'd lost his appetite and knew it would only be a waste of good food. The rancher leaned his elbow on the table and his hand on his chin and fell to staring out the window. It was late. He'd come for supper, so by now the sun had set and it was past time for bed. The restaurant would be closing soon and he'd be forced to go back to his hotel room. It was a lovely room, with all the finest appointments, but it was empty. He missed his son's raucous laughter, their byplay, and even their bickering. He'd been away two days and it would probably be two more before he finished with everything.
Home called like a siren's song.
"Would you like your check, Mister Cartwright?" a slightly weary voice asked. He looked up to find his waitress, a lovely young woman named Rosanna, smiling down at him.
"Time to go home?" he asked.
She nodded. "I get to go right away tonight. Lillie has to help clean up."
"How's that little one of yours doing?"
Rosanna, like so many of the women who dared to live in the West, had run from something in the East – something that most likely involved a man. She had a five-year-old son and wore a ring on her finger, but it was pretty well understood by everyone that she had never married.
"Grant? He's fine. Thank you for asking."
"How are you doing? Are you able to get by?"
They'd had this talk before. People sometimes accused him of trying to be a father to the entire settlement. He'd been rebuffed before, but most young women like Rosanna – once they understood that his motives were pure – were comfortable with him.
"We're okay. I have a little put back for the winter when the custom falls off."
"You let me know if you need help," Ben said as he reached into his wallet and pulled out the amount of the bill – plus a generous tip.
"That's a lot of money for a steak you didn't eat," Rosanna remarked as she accepted it.
"It's worth the price of avoiding indigestion," he said as he rose.
The young woman shook her head. "I don't like that man. He thinks he owns everything."
He sensed something in her voice. "Has he bothered you?"
"No more so than others," she admitted with a sigh. "Mr. Stephens, he's just…well…he makes me feel uncomfortable when he looks at me."
As he moved away from the table, the rancher said, "If he gives you any trouble, you let me know."
Rosanna laughed. "You going to throw him out of my apartment on his tale?"
"I just might," he replied, laughing as well. "You have a good night and give that boy of yours a hug for me. I'd do it myself if I could."
"Missing your boys?" she asked as she picked up his plate.
Ben nodded. "Always."
"You have a good night, Mister Cartwright."
"You too, Rosanna. See you at breakfast."
She smiled and headed for the kitchen even as he headed for the door. Outside the restaurant, the streets were quiet. It was a Monday. After spending a riotous weekend in town, most of the ranch hands had headed back the night before to the various spreads they worked. It was part and parcel of the West and was why – so far – he'd never let Hoss and his little brother come into the settlement without him or Adam on a Friday night or Saturday. There was simply too much mischief to get into. The ranch was twenty miles away and it afforded him some peace, knowing that his boys were growing up with his hand at the rudder and no one else's. Adam, of course, was old enough to take care of himself. Ben puffed out a little sigh. It was unfair how much he counted on the boy. At twenty-two, Adam should be in the settlement letting loose some steam along with those ranch hands instead of staying home to take care of his two younger brothers.
He'd make it up to him the next weekend. Let him come into the settlement to have some fun.
Ben left the restaurant and headed across the street. The hotel was diagonal from it. Buck was stabled in the livery nearby. He considered for a moment making a detour to check on his old friend before he bedded down, but as he stood there in the middle of the street – vacillating – a wave of weariness washed over him and he decided there was nothing for it but to go to bed.
Tomorrow would be a better – and hopefully brighter day.
When he arrived at the hotel, Ben realized just how tired he was. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he removed his boots and coat and fell backwards fully clothed.
He was asleep in minutes.
Somewhere around two a.m. he was awakened by an insistent pounding. Startled awake, it took Ben a moment to remember where he was and realize that the sound was someone banging heavily on the door to his hotel room.
If it was Sebastian Stephens he was going to kill him.
Tired, disgruntled and out-of-sorts, the rancher dragged his weary body to the door and opened it. At first, he didn't recognize the man in the hall. Then, through the fog of exhaustion, a name came to him.
"Shade? What are you doing here?"
Pratt Shade was ringing his fingers on the brim of his faded hat.
"Mister Cartwright, you need to come. There's been an accident."
oooooooooo
The night was cold and hollow and it took hold of his soul as Ben Cartwright rode his faithful mount hard through the dark, desperate to reach his home. He'd left messages at the hotel to be sent in the morning to the men he was scheduled to meet with, explaining but not apologizing for his absence. The Ponderosa needed those contracts to make it through the winter, but that need paled next to the one to be with his youngest son. Pratt hadn't been able to tell him much. All he knew was that the horses had spooked and Joseph had been in the corral when they did. He'd volunteered to ride for the doctor and taken off immediately.
His old friend Paul Martin, doctor to the boys though he wasn't yet the settlement's official physician, was about an hour behind them. Paul wasn't much of a horseman and it was dark. That meant even the best of riders could easily fall prey to the road's dangers. Because of that – and the fact that Paul needed to bring his medical supplies with him – his old friend was coming by carriage.
As they pulled into the yard a couple of hands shouted out a greeting. Bush Sears headed their way and met up with Pratt as he dismounted.
"Adam will be right happy to see you, Mister Cartwright," Bush said. "He's taking it hard, what happened to the young'un."
"Can you tell me anything?" Ben asked as he quickly removed his saddlebags and tossed them over one arm.
"One of the horses caught Little Joe's forehead with its hoof. That's about all I know." Bush looked at the house. "Hoss scooped the boy up and took him in fast as the first rattle out of the box."
"Did either of you see what happened?"
"No, sir," they both replied.
"I saw the young'un earlier, sitting on that fence," Pratt admitted. "I warned him he shouldn't go near the horses, but you know boys. He didn't listen."
Yes, he knew boys. He'd reared three of them and had the gray hair to prove it!
"Thank you both. I appreciate all you've done. Now, I need to get inside."
The house was fairly dark. From the meager light that spilled through the office window, he could tell the fire had been banked. Ben looked up and saw a light blazing in Joseph's window. A silhouetted figure passed back and forth behind it, pacing like a mountain cat on the prowl.
"No need to thank us," Pratt said. "We both have little brothers. Doesn't come as any surprise yours gets into trouble. Hopefully, Joe will be okay."
Ben watched the pair depart before entering. He'd guessed right. The lower level was fairly dark. As he paused, getting his bearings, there was movement to his left and Hop Sing emerged from the kitchen. The Asian man was carrying a load of linens and a bucket of water.
He almost dropped the bucket when he saw him.
"Mistah Cartwright! Thank goodness you home! Number three son need father."
"How is Joseph?" he asked.
"Boy not wake up yet."
A fist of fear closed around his heart as he counted off the hours. It would have taken Pratt Shade at least three to make it to the settlement even at a clip. The two of them were at least a half-hour in the settlement getting ready, and another three coming back.
Joseph had been unconscious for at least six hours.
"Not at all?"
"Boy murmur now and then. Call for father, but not wake up."
"Pa, is that you?"
Ben turned toward the stair, recognizing the giant figure poised on a step about halfway down. "Hoss," he said, heading for him. "How is your brother?"
The big teen hesitated. "We don't rightly know, Pa. We didn't want to move Joe much in case somethin' was broke…maybe inside. You better come up and take a look for yourself."
"Hop Sing, I have a few things in my saddlebags that need looked after. Contracts and such. I would appreciate if you would do that. Here." Ben held out his hands. "Give me the linens and the water and I will take them up. Then you get some sleep, old friend. You look exhausted."
"Hop Sing not sleep until he know number three son going to be oh-kay," he said softly. "Doctor Paul on his way?"
"He should be here within the hour."
The Asian man nodded. "I go ask ancestors to watch over small boy and Baptist God to make him well."
Ben pressed the other man's shoulder. "Thank you."
As he and Hoss made their way up the stair and moved along the hall, a quiet sound drifted toward them. When they reached Joseph's door, he realized what it was. Adam was singing. Tears filled the rancher's eyes as he paused before entering. The tune was one Marie often sang to their young son.
xxx
Frère Jacques
Frère Jacques
Dormez-vous?
Dormez-vous?
Sonnez les matines
Sonnez les matines
Ding, ding, dong
Ding, ding, dong
xxx
"Hey, Joe," Ben heard Adam say as he opened the door. "It's morning. The bells are ringing. You need to wake up." His son's voice choked with emotion. "You gotta wake up, Joe."
Ben stepped inside. "Son?"
The face Adam turned toward him was pale as wordless grief.
"Pa. Thank God!" the boy breathed. He raised up and looked behind him. "Paul's not with you?"
"He's on his way," the rancher said as he carefully moved into the room. There was the light on the dresser he had seen through the window and another one turned low on the bedside table. The room was fairly dark. He had yet to see his son clearly.
Adam noticed his frown. "I kept the light low. I know…a blow to head…. Well, I was afraid if…when Joe woke up it would hurt his eyes."
If he woke up.
His son slipped out of the bedside chair to make room for him. A little moan escaped Ben's lips as he sat down and reached for his youngest son. A makeshift bandage was wound around Joseph's head. It was partially soaked through. On the floor there was a bucket with other discarded bloody rags.
"We can't get the wound to stop bleeding, Pa. It stops for a while and then starts right back in."
Ben was unwrapping the bandage. Joseph's forehead looked like a field of wildflowers on a dusky day, it was dotted with so many colors. A large semi-circular cut marred the boy's tender flesh on the right hand side. He thanked God it wasn't too deep.
"Is there anything else…wrong?" Ben asked as he swallowed over his fear.
Adam ran a hand through the shock of unruly black hair on his head. "I honestly don't know. Nothing else is bleeding…." He winced. "…at least, on the outside. I didn't want to move Little Joe any more than I had to until Paul got here. Hoss and I brought him in from the corral. We got Joe out of his clothes and cleaned him up. There was…dirt in the wound."
And worse, he was sure.
"You've done all you could, son," Ben said as he reached for one of the fresh linen strips Hop Sing had supplied. "We'll just have to wait for Paul."
"What have I done other than almost get Joe killed?" his eldest snapped.
Adam's vehemence shocked him. "Son, this isn't your fault."
"Then whose is it? You left me in charge." He shook with a sigh. "I was supposed to keep Little Joe safe."
Ben lifted his son up so he could wind the bandage around the back of his head. Joe was so light in his arms, like a sparrow that had fallen. "And Little Joe was supposed to do as you told him and not go near the horses unless someone was with him." He turned to look at his oldest boy. "Am I right?"
Adam shook his head. "Joe's a kid! I should have known he wouldn't listen. When he went outside after supper to do his chores, I should have followed him. I shouldn't have…."
"Like I shouldn't have allowed your mother to get pregnant, or Inger to come out West? As I shouldn't have allowed Marie to have that horse when I knew it wasn't wise?" Ben leaned back as he finished tying off the bandage and stared at his youngest son's pallid face. "Just like I shouldn't have allowed any of you to grow up, because I can't always be with you. I can't…protect you."
"You do your best, Pa."
Ben looked right at his eldest. "So did you."
Adam ducked his head and ran a hand along the back of his neck.
"Can I come in?" a shy voice asked.
Ben turned toward the door. "Hoss. I'm sorry I forgot about you. Of course you can come in."
"It's okay, Pa. I was helpin' Hop Sing with some of his mornin' preparations. I just wanted to let you know that Paul Martin just pulled in."
"Thank God!" Ben breathed. "Go and meet him, son. Bring him right up."
"I'll go, Pa." Adam's gaze returned to Little Joe. "To tell the truth, I could use a little air."
As the black-haired man passed his teenage brother, Hoss placed a hand on his shoulder. Adam briefly returned the gesture and then left the room. After he'd gone, Hoss sat on the side of Joseph's bed and reached out to stroke a tangle of curls off of the boy's battered forehead.
It warmed his heart to know that his boys were so close. Though they had their differences, they were always there for one another and would always be in spirit, if not in body.
"So what has the young scamp got himself into now?"
Ben turned to find Paul Martin standing just inside the room. He rose to his feet and went to greet him.
"Adam?" he asked.
"I told him to take a walk," Paul said as he came to the bed. "How long has Joe been unconscious?" the physician asked as he sat on Joseph's other side.
"He's kind of tried to surface a few times, Doc," his son replied.
"How long since the last time?"
Hoss shrugged. "A hour or so. We was awful busy. I wasn't lookin' at the clock, if you know what I mean?"
"Well, the fact that Joe is trying to reach us is encouraging." Paul made a 'tsking' nose as he removed the bandage. "That's quite a blow he took." Next he moved his hands along Joseph's arms and legs, checking for breaks. "Everything seems intact," Paul muttered as he lifted the boy and began to feel along his spine. He stopped when Joseph cried out.
Paul gently turned Joseph over and lifted his night shirt. His old friend frowned as he looked up at him. "Ben, did anyone mention this bruising on his lower back?"
"We was afraid to move him, Doc, for fear we'd hurt him more," Hoss admitted.
Paul nodded as he began once again to move his fingers along Joe's spine. "Wise, very wise," he said somewhat distracted.
Joseph whimpered as the physician continued to probe.
"Paul. What is it? What are you thinking?" the rancher asked as he returned to his son's side.
His friend pursed his lips as he straightened up. Before speaking, Paul reached out and affectionately brushed a hank of curls back from Joseph's forehead. "You've really done it to yourself this time, haven't you, boy?"
Ben's heart began to race.
"What has he done?"
"I can't be sure, Ben. I won't know until Little Joe wakes up and, even then, it will take time and observation to tell what damage has been done."
"Doc?" Hoss asked, his knuckles going white on the bed knob. "What're you talkin' about?"
The physician pursed his lips. "There's no way to say this but to say it. It seems one of the horses kicked your brother low on his back. There's quite a lot of swelling, Ben. The blow could have fractured one of Joseph's vertebrae."
"Fractured…his spine? What does that mean?"
Paul rose to his feet and looked directly at him. "It means Joseph may never walk again."
oooooooooo