Chapter

Just Like That

"There were tears in the eye of the gentle girl, as these words were spoken; and when one fell upon the flower over which she bent, and gliss-ened brightly in its cup, making it more bee-utiful, it seemed as though the out-pouring of her fresh young heart, claimed kin-dred with the love-li-est things in nature."

"Very good Hoss. I see you've been practicing at home." He gleamed shyly. "Have a seat. Clay, why don't you read the next part?" He walked down the row of students ignoring their taunts and snickers as the next victim stood, making his way to the front of the classroom. He took his seat at the second to the last row. Kyle sat behind him. An occasional spitball hit his neck as he read his new installment. A Mountainman's Guide to the Wilderness, which he hid within the pages of the class assigned reading material, Oliver Twist. He wiped them away from the back of his neck as he read and did his best to ignore them as they came.

He read under the shade of the sycamore, taking a page right out of Adams book. Doing his best to ignore the other students, though he doubted Adam's choice of reading material and his choice of reading material would ever fall in line.

"Hey Hoss." Oh no. The boy kicked at his leg. He couldn't ignore that, though he pretended to. "Hoss." He kicked again, harder this time. The boy licked his palm and smeared it on his face. Hoss wiped it away with his shoulder still trying to ignore him, but he couldn't get the smell of the boy's stinky breath out of his nostrils. The dried saliva remained on his cheek. He felt himself getting angry. Kyle slapped at his head, then again. The heat rose in Hoss's face but he stifled it cooly. The other boys stared on. Kyle looking for a reaction yanked Hoss's hair back. Ms. Harper couldn't call them in quickly enough.

~.~

Little Joe runs to Hoss. A passive squeeze and he brushes past. He heads towards his room and shuts the door. "Hoss." Ben taps on the door. "Are you going to join us for dinner?"

"I'm not hungry. I'm just going to go to bed."

"I don keya what that boy says. He comin down with somethin. He no eat dinner. Twee days.

Ben knocked on the door before opening it. Hoss turned himself to face the wall. He was crying.

"What's the matter son? Are you feeling alright?"

"Nothing Pa. I'm just tired. I just want to sleep."

"Are you missing Adam?"

"I don't want to talk, Pa. Just leave me alone." He pushed him away.

"Alright son. But I'm here if you need me." He looked down in defeat and closed the door between them.

"Numbah two son sick?"

"No I don't think so."

"What do you think wong with Numbah 2 son?"

"I'm not sure, but I think I have an idea."

~.~

The three were waiting for him in the yard and his face lit up.

"Little Feather?"

"Hi Horse." Hoss jumped from his horse with excitement. He was astounded to see his friends there. Crazy to see his two worlds meet.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your farder invited us." He was astounded. Ecstatic that he no longer had to hide them from his pa.

"Hey Joe, this is Little Feather and that's Walks Like Bear and Young Wolf." He introduced them to his brother, not even thinking that introductions were likely made already before he came in. He wasn't sure how long they'd been there. Joe giggled.

"Horse? His names not Horse." He corrected. "It's Hoss." Little Feather was confused.

"It's alright Little Joe. I don't mind them calling me Horse."

"You are not Horse?" Little Feather asked.

"No, I'm Hoss." He explained.

"I've never heard that name before."

"It comes from the Smokey Mountains. It means Friendly."

"Hoss. The name fits you." He considered it. "Hoss. Why didn't you correct us before?"

"Well, I guess I was just too shocked to correct you. Plus I didn't think I'd ever see you again so what did it matter? When I did see you again, you already thought my name was Horse so I let it be."

"Do you want us to call you Hoss?"

"I don't mind if you call me Horse." Little Feather saw through him. Hoss liked the idea of having an Indian name.

"Alright Horse." Little Feather asserted. "That's your name. You are Horse to us." Hoss smiled widely. "Horse can I ask you something else?"

"Sure." Little Feather leaned into him.

"What is a Joe?"

"What?"

"What is a Joe?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I am a Little Feather, from bird. I am feather that is little. You are Hoss. Friend. You have brother that is joe. A joe that is little. What is a joe?" Hoss smiled broadly. Joe who overheard the question giggled.

"I'm a Joe." He answered animatedly and giggled some more. Little Feather didn't understand but accepted the answer albeit hesitantly. He left it alone.

"Boy's, go get washed up." His Pa said from the doorway. Ben looked at his son with a proud smile. "I thought they might like to join us for dinner."

They sat around the table with roast beef and mashed potatoes between them. Ben lowered his head in prayer and Little Joe and Hoss joined in.

"Napidzia." They heard from Young Wolf. He was talking to his brothers. "Nanisuduhe." Little Feather and Walks Like Bear mimicked what their host were doing. When all three had folded their hands and lowered their heads Ben continued.

It was weird to watch them at the table. They were respectful though they didn't know much about eating at a table. They did their best to learn and fit in. When they'd filled their bellies with Hopsing's delicious cooking, the plates were taken away and a bowl of brown swirl was put before them. The natives were more concerned than excited. Hoss and Joe dug in right away and the boys were horrified. They looked to Young Wolf for guidance. Young Wolf who told them to be respectful at the beginning of the meal. Who was also not eating his poop. Would he force them to eat theirs? Hoss noticed their hesitation.

"What's the matter? Ain't you ever had pudding before?" They were worried. "It's good. It's just chocolate." Young Wolf dipped the tip of his spoon in and touched it lightly to his tongue. He played with what little was there and nodded in approval.

"It's good." Little Feather was the next to try and excitedly approved. Walks Like Bear thought his brothers were crazy and sat looking perplexed and horrified.

"It's okay. Eat. It's good." Young Wolf said.

"Yeah, it's not bad." Little Feather encouraged.

"Kwedapu." Walks Like Bear answered back. Little Feather snickered and Young Wolf shot him a cross look.

"What? What am I missing?" Hoss asked.

"He thinks this is poop." Came Little Feather's giggled response. Hoss looked down at his own bowl. He'd never thought about that before. How close it does look like it. He and Little Joe burst out together. Ben couldn't help but hide his own snickers. "It's not poop. It's chocolate." Little Feather said in his own language. Feeling a bit like the butt of a joke, Walks Like Bear dipped his spoon into it and touched it to his tongue letting it sit there. He didn't quite get enough to taste anything. He dipped his spoon again. A little more this time and let it sit on his tongue, the others saw the moment he tasted it. His eyes lit up and smile broadened. He went in for a heaping spoonful and filled his mouth with it.

"He likes it." Little Feather announced. They all laughed, digging into their own servings and eating their fill. Walks Like Bear even asked for seconds.

When supper had ended, Ben sat inside working at his desk letting the boy's play outside.

"How's school?" Little Feather asked as they walked placidly through the yard. The stars like the souls of heaven looked down upon them.

"Nothing's changed."

Walks Like Bear played with Little Joe on the porch. Though years older it appeared as if he was legitly entertained by the small tyke. Joe raised his doll up and crashed it into his small wooden train which brought a smile to Walks Like Bear. He was very entertained with the toys Joe had, in particular the raggedy doll which Joe presented with pride.

Young Wolf busied himself with his horse letting his brothers have their fun but finding little else to entertain himself with as he waited for the hour to come to leave the Whiteman's ranch. The nostalgia of the ranch was lost on him with the years past. He remembers the times being at that table before and being in this yard romping around with Cartwright's oldest, when they were both as small as the youngest is now. He remembers how fascinated he was in the Whiteman's ways as a child but with years come knowledge and unfortunately he knew too much now about them and their ways that repulsed him. Cartwright wasn't like most however. He knew that much and he knew he raised his boys to be different too. Unfortunately, they weren't the majority and the majority had the tendency to speak the loudest. His little brothers or cousins as Horse would say were very much in the moment. The nostalgia of the place still new and fresh to them. One day it would change for them too. As they grew and learned, they too would see the ugliness. They have yet to see war. The tribe protected them from that. But they would grow and whether they liked it or not war would come to them. One day they would be forced to fight. The Whiteman would bring war to them as they have the other tribes. He could protect them now while they were young, but they were growing, and the day would come, he feared, that he would no longer be able to protect them.

"Why you don't tell father what is happening?"

"My older brother knew. He tried to help. Every time he stepped in, it just got worse. If I tell my pa, it'll just get worse." Little Feather chewed on this.

"Just remember what we said. Sometimes you have to fight." Young Wolf overheard Little Feather's advice. Little Feather was all too eager to flex his muscles as scrawny as they were. He's been in some scrapes before with his other brothers in the tribe. He could hold his own pretty good against his other brothers. For that reason he thinks he's ready for war but Young Wolf knew the poor thing still had years to go.

"I don't think my father would be too happy if he caught me fighting." Young Wolf couldn't help but smile at Horse's response. If only their people had that option. But then again maybe that wasn't really an option for Horse either. He just thinks it is.

In the dark shadows beyond the trees there were eyes watching them. McCabe decided to ride out to confront the ranch owner personally regarding his crooked business dealings but stopped at the site of the native boys. Their presence at the home was curious. Were they servants or was their relation to the ranch owner more ominous than that? Did they have something to do with his dirty dealings?

~.~

The warm water reawakened his open cuts at first but after a moment numbed them. He found the water soothing. After sinking down into his thoughts he recalled the hours prior.

"Sally get out." He heard in his head as he recalled the memories. The most recent wounds still too fresh to ignore.

Sally whose father owned the livery and whose older sister Amanda sat behind Kyle in school did as she was ordered. The two boys cornered Hoss. Kyle ripped the reigns from his hand. The day had been particularly hard. The torment through the day didn't seem to be all that different than the rest but when Kyle and Travis cornered him in the stable after school things took an ugly turn.

At first it was just Sally and he in there. Then when the boys entered they forced Sally away. He knew Sally wasn't going to do nothing to stop them. If her older sister would never do anything there was no way the little one would. Somehow though it gave him comfort having her around. Just having a witness kept them in check. Did it though? The other kids in his class saw things all the time and never stopped them. Sometimes they would even join in. This time though it wasn't just in his imagination. It was worse. They didn't just hit him with fist. Travis picked up a rake and use the handle to strike him when he was on his knees. Kyle found a leather strap and whipped him with it. They beat him like he'd seen men beat rabid dogs.

Why did it have to be him? Why did they hate him so much? Was he really that ugly? Was he really that stupid that he couldn't be treated as a regular human being. He had never before been so close to breaking down upon seeing his Pa when he came into the house. But once again he was able to hold in his tears until he was in the comforts of his own room. He cried now as he let the warm water surround him. He sunk down into the darkness and let it overtake him.

Joe broke him from his pity, starling him as he barges through the door.

"Get out!" Hoss shouted, startling the tyke right back. The boy drew his eyes down to Hoss's bare chest. Hoss looked down at what caught his brother's attention. Having no way to cover his shame he yelled again, louder. "I said, Get Out!" Little Joe was frightened and ran away. The rest of the night, Little Joe didn't bring it up to Hoss what he had seen. Hoss didn't like talking about it before, it didn't seem now would be any different. If he knew better it was best to stay out of his way when he was like this. Hoss didn't bring it up either. They spent that night not saying two words to each other.

~.~

Hoss had left for school hours ago. Joe sat playing uncharacteristically quiet like, with his doll on the living room floor as Ben sat at the desk, reading contracts and crunching numbers, going over the budgets of years past. Finally Little Joe sets down his doll and comes over to his pa. Without asking for permission he climbs into his father's lap seemingly unaware of his important work. Unaware or doesn't care? Ben chortled.

"What is it Little Joe? I'm working." The boy lays his chestnut curls into his father's chest and says nothing. His father strokes his hair and plants a kiss. He loves these little moments. The moments that remind him of what being a father is all about. He picked up his pen and continued on, working around the boy in his lap.

"Pa?" Joe finally said, sounding every bit of the tot he was.

"Yeah son." He kept his focus on his papers.

"How'd Hoss get hurt?"

"What do you mean?" He asked barely registering the question.

"The bruises Pa." Ben stopped. What did he just say?

"What bruises?"

"The ones on his belly." He was deep set with concern.

"I don't know son. I didn't even know he had bruises on his belly."

"Oh yes Pa. They're everywhere." He put down the pen and turned Joe to look at him.

"What do they look like?"

"They're all kinds of different colors." He went off in his head, as he described them. "Some are green and yellow and others are purple and red and blue."

"How many are we talking about?"

"A lot Pa." His son said expressively. "But I can't count. Hoss won't even let me look at them."

"When did you notice them?"

"Last night, when I walked in on him taking a bath." He turned Joe back and rested the boy's head against him. All of a sudden it became real for him. Something was happening to his boy and he didn't know what. "He had them before too."

"He did? When?"

"Before, when he pushed me and hurt my head." Ben shut his eyes. "Do you think that's what's making him mad at me?" This little boy doesn't know just how right he could be.

~.~

Again the teen comes home gives Joe as impassive a hug as was humanly possible and brushes his way past into his room. He saw something he hadn't seen before. It was in the way Hoss pushed Joe away. It was in the same manner he had many times before. But now he saw, now his eyes were finally open. Hoss was guarding his torso. Keeping Joe from touching him as little as possible. Why hadn't he seen this before? He didn't know before. He didn't really know now. He was going to know. He had to know. Not now. He let him be now, wondering what was going on in his head. What was he living through? He let him be until the table was set and the meal ready to be served. He gently rapped on his door. "You going to join us for dinner?"

"No thanks Pa." His voice strained, coming from his bed. He looked up at Hopsing who looked back with concern. His son was hurting. In ways he never could have imagined. In what ways he still didn't know.

When the house was dark and all was still, Ben snuck into the room his son's slept. He stared over the sleeping teen, holding a lantern soft and dim. He considered his options that day. He could have just come right out and asked him, but he's been so evasive lately, he didn't envision any good would come out of it; plus he figured if he was trying to hide it from Little Joe and he hadn't told anybody else it was probably something he didn't want anybody to know. Perhaps whatever the cause it was something he was ashamed of. He could force his son to show him, but he was afraid that would only drive the boy further away. Whatever it was he had to get an idea of what he was facing before he could even begin to address it. There was a large part of him that hoped upon hope he'd find nothing. Little Joe wasn't a liar. He was many things, but a liar wasn't one of them. He'd faced down the toughest situations and spoken truth. It's like lying wasn't in his blood. Mistaking on the other hand, that's another thing. He hoped upon hope that he was mistaking. That the little boy saw something else and his mind created the explanation for him. Only one way to know for sure. He stands at his son's bed side. He was facing the wall but even still he could tell his son's eyes were red and swollen like he'd been crying, like he'd cried himself to sleep. It broke the father's heart. He'd been doing that a lot lately. If what Little Joe says is true. Perhaps there was more to it than just missing Adam. Perhaps the source of his sadness, his strange behavior, stems from whatever is going on here. He shone the light down at his nightshirt to consider the task before him, then placed the lantern on the nightstand at Hoss's head. He shimmied the gown up and over the boy's waist, which wasn't easy to do without waking him. Hoss stretched out his feet forcing his father to stop. The boy relaxed again. Keeping his eyes closed, he adjusted and rolled himself over facing his father, and was once again in the deep clutches of sleep. Ben resumed pulling the gown over and shimming it up from underneath the weight of the boy's hips. He went as far as he could go without waking the boy. It gave him just enough give so that he can pull the top of the night shirt up revealing his son's torso. He could make out something. Shadows, discoloration. He reached for the lantern and drew it close. As the light illuminated the marks, he was horror stricken. Joe was right. His son's torso was covered in a multitude of coin sized bruises. They collected on the most tenderest areas, his abdomen taking the majority of the abuse, but not all. The bruises wrapped around the fleshy portion of his back. There were larger bruises too, these ones higher up. His ribcage and upper back bore bruises the size of biscuits. The darkest bruises indicating they were the newest were elongated. He was hit with something else. Portions of his skin rose and swelled in hot parallel strips. He was sickened at the sight. How could all of this have been going on and he not know. His sickness turned to anger.

His son drew a sharp breath in and shot his eyes open. He slapped at his father's hand and scooted away until his back hit the wall. It was then, that he started understanding where he was and who was before him. He was in his room, before him his father looked down with a lantern in his hand. He still didn't know why. He stared at him with questioning gaze before realizing his night gown had made its way above his waist. He shimmied it down wondering if his father had seen.

"What are you doing in here Pa?"

"How did you get those bruises?" He did see. He glanced at his nightgown. Why was he in here? Was it to see? How could he know? He looked past his father at his sleeping brother. He was hurt at the betrayal.

"Don't look at him. Look at me. How did you get those bruises?"

"I fell off my horse." He finally said. It seemed like the most likely excuse something so big it would explain all the bruises. But nothing too much to cause his father to worry.

"How many times?" He wasn't buying it. "Son, those bruises didn't happen all at the same time. How did you get the bruises?"

"I don't know."

"Don't give me, you don't know. You do know. Tell me. How did you get them?"

"I don't know." He said emphatically.

"Son."

"Please Pa." He backed himself until he was in a sitting position.

"Don't 'Please Pa' me. Tell me."

"I can't." He felt the tears forming. He scrunched his face to fight them off, but they refused to yield. He hid his face within his palms as they fell.

Ben knelt to his son. His voice was gentle now. "Has somebody been doing this to you?" He shook his head in his palms. It wasn't so much of a 'no' as it was, avoidance to answer. "Hoss." He took hold of his wrist and lowered his hands, forcing his son to face him. "Son, has somebody been hurting you?"

His face contorted. He buries his face in his pillow to hide the tears. He couldn't bare for his father to see his shame.

"Is it the kids at school?" He touches his shoulder.

"Just go away!" Hoss spurned vehemently. He hit a nerve. He was on to something. He looked over his shoulder at Joseph to see if he would wake at Hoss's outburst. The boy rolled over but remained dead to the world.

Ben wasn't going to give in to his son pushing him away, not when he knew he needed him. He crawls over his son and situates himself Indian style with his back against the wall, pulling his son into his lap. Hoss turns himself and buries his face into his Pa. "Talk to me son. Tell me what's happening." No words came, only tears. His shoulders convulsing as he wept. Perhaps no words had to. He knew now all he needed to.

He thought about his strange behavior lately. His avoidance to be seen undressed. Ben thought his need for privacy was a sign of maturity, or at least he may have become more uncomfortable with his appearance. His shortness with Hopsing at the dinner table and his anger at being called fat. This led him to believe Hoss was unhappy with the way he saw himself. He never thought to ask himself, why all of a sudden he would be so conscious of his appearance. The signs were there, if he just cared enough to notice. The boy was starving himself so he would look more normal, more like the other kids, hoping that would be enough to make the abuse stop. When he gave in to feeding his body, he hated himself for his weakness. His affinity to nature, his avoidance to people. His eagerness to perform back breaking work rather than focus on his education. His struggles with learning. His outburst towards the ones he loves, the ones he was closest to. Him getting physical with Little Joe. His peaceful countenance when he was skipping school. His unbridled temper when he wasn't. Hoss was telling him everything he needed to know. He was just too busy to listen.

An hour later when the boy was all cried out and exhaustion had taken over the two of them, he laid down next to his son wrapping his arm around him. This was how they'd spent the rest of the night.

~.~

It was still dark in the room when Ben woke, but rays were peeking over from behind the hills as the morning sun was fighting its way up. Both boys were still sleeping. He pushed himself up, not wanting to wake them. He was sure Hoss would be more ashamed to face him if he'd woken up to find his pa in bed with him, remembering how he wept. He was glad it was him that woke up first. He wanted to save his son that embarrassment. He thought about the day to come. He'd had a lot of responsibilities that day. A whole day planned out for him, but somehow none of them seemed important to him now. He had to find out what was happening to his son and put a stop to it.

Hoss felt his pa get up from his bed. In fact this was what woke him. He pretended like he was still asleep. He was too ashamed to face him. Too ashamed to face the day. The day was going to be different. He wasn't sure how, but he knew, with his father knowing that somehow it was. He wondered how his father found out. If it was the sleeping boy across the room, or if there was another way his dad might have known. What other way? How else could he have figured it out? He'd been doing his best to not let the bruises affect him. Pretend like they weren't even there. He hadn't been walking around the house playing the victim. How else could he have found out? There was no other way. It had to be Little Joe. He's the only one who knew. Trouble was, Hoss didn't know how mad he was supposed to be at the little tyke. He guessed it depended on how the day turned out. Would things get better for him, or worse?

His pa was gone by the time he did get out of bed, leaving special instructions to Hopsing to care for them and get them off on their morning routines. He was glad for it. He wasn't sure how he was going to face his Pa after last night. At least he'd have some time to recover first. As it was, facing Little Joe and Hopsing was strange enough. Little Joe had gotten up before him which wasn't the normal way of things as the little boy had a tendency to sleep in. Hoss didn't sleep in though. Truth be told, he'd been awake ever since his father left. He'd been lying in bed staring at the sleeping boy. When Little Joe did get up, he'd closed his eyes to mimic sleep and stayed like that until Joe had dressed and left the room. Unaware that his Pa had already left the house he stayed in bed until the last possible moment. Now he was up and dressed to discover with relief that his pa was gone and Hopsing and Little Joe staring at him both with weird looks on their faces. At first he didn't understand why, unless his father told them both. Would he have? He didn't really understand until he felt the burn in his eyes as if he was still tired, but it wasn't a tired sting. It was an, I stayed up half the night crying, sting. He rubbed at his face. It was still puffy, his eyes were still swollen. Oh he could imagine the sight of him. His lunch had been wrapped up and sat at the edge of the table waiting for him. Hopsing had gotten used to Hoss not joining them for breakfast and trying to walk out without lunch. He had adjusted for that and had it already prepared and waiting for him, so the boy would have no excuse not to take it.

"Thanks." He picked up the package and walked out.

~.~

"Have kids been picking on my son?"

"They all get picked on from time to time. Kids do that."

"How bad does it get?"

"What?"

"How bad do they pick on him? How bad does it get?"

"Oh you know, kids can be kids?"

"What does that mean? Kids can be kids?"

"Kids can be mean."

"Has it ever gotten physical?"

"Well…I don't know." Ms. Harper shrugged her shoulders and brushed past him, avoiding to answer.

"Well has it? Or hasn't it?"

"From time to time, maybe."

"How often is, 'from time to time?'"

"I don't know, Ben." He was getting quite frustrated with her apathetic responses.

"Well what are you doing to stop it?"

"When I see it happening I put an end to it."

"How often do you see it happen?"

"I don't know. From time to time."

He held his anger in check. "Why haven't I been told about this?"

"It's never been anything that bad. Mr. Cartwright, kids get teased. It's a part of growing up. If I went and told on every kid, every time he did anything wrong, nothing would ever get done."

"This isn't a little teasing. There are bruises all over his body."

"Well I don't know nothin' about that."

"Isn't it your job to know?"

"It's my job to teach these kids."

"While these kids are in your care, it is your job to look out for them."

"Mr. Cartwright, I've got 20 kids in my care. You've got 3. Are you going to stand here and tell me nothing's ever happened to those boys of yours while they were in your care?" His face burned. "My kids range from 6 years old to 15. I do the best I can. I'm sorry to say that I may spend more time watching after the younger ones than I do the older's, but at their age they need more lookin' out for. I have a little more trust in my older kids to do what is right."

"Meanwhile, my son is covered in bruises."

"If you can tell me who's doing it, I can make sure I put a stop to it."

"If you don't know who's doing it, how should I know?"

"Didn't he tell you?" Suddenly her demeanor changed. She enveloped an air of superiority. "Did he even tell you it was happening here? He could have gotten those bruises anywhere."

"He spends seven hours a day here. Where else would he get them?"

"I don't know, maybe at your house."

"Don't you think I'd know if he was getting them at my house?" His anger could no longer be bridled. "You listen to me!" He demanded with an accusing finger. "Either you put a stop to it, or I will!"

Hoss saw his father storm out of the schoolhouse irately slapping his hat against his leg before donning it. Kyle and Travis and a few others were already there in the school yard to watch his father storm away. Kyle shot Hoss a smug look.

Ms. Harper started the days lesson with an exhort. "Children, I have something important to say. It has come to my attention that there might be some bullying happening here." Hoss sunk down in his chair. "I want you to know, that this ends today. If I find out about one student laying hands on another, your parents are going to find out."

The students whispered about him as he walked by. He knew it was about him by the way they pointed and stared. Ms. Harper spent their rest periods standing on the school house steps, arms crossed, staring out onto the courtyard. It was uncomfortable for Hoss to say the least. He didn't know if this was better or worse. At least no one struck him and no one did. He went the entire day without so much as a cross word. He wondered how long this would last.

~.~

"Hoss! Hey Hoss! Wait up. We want to talk to you." Oh no. They strode next to him on either side as he guided his horse along the lonely road towards home. "Hey Hoss, did you tell on us?" He sunk his head.

"I knew it. I told you Kyle. I told you he told on us."

"What's the matter Hoss? You can't fight your own battles? Adam's not here to protect you no more so you got to go running to Pa?"

"I got an idea. Why don't you have Little Joe start coming to school? Maybe he can start fighting your battles too." He was hurt at how weak they saw him. They were right. He was weak.

"You think that school is the only place we can get to you. We both ride this same road every day. Stable our horses in the same place. We can get ya any time, any place. You hear me. Look at me when I'm talking to you." Hoss kicked his horse ahead. Travis went to follow but Kyle held him back. Kyle jumped down from his horse and scoured the ground. He found what he was looking for. A perfect grey rock about the size of his fist. He gave Travis a sly smile. He wasn't going to throw this one half-cocked. He was going to make it count. He drew back and chucked it as hard as he could making sure it could make the distance.

It made contact with the back of Hoss's thick skull. His own reaction spooked the horse which sent his steed into a trollop. The pain was almost enough to make him pass out but he had to hang on or he'd fall right off his horse and make matters even worse. The trollop scared him at first, but once he got control he went with it riding his horse back to the house.

The trollop meant there was trouble. Hoss and all the hands knew not to be riding in like that unless there was something wrong. This had been set in stone after Marie's passing and Joe developing his fear of horses. He didn't create this rule just to pacify Joe though. This was for his own peace of mind. So his heart wouldn't be set into an uproar every time a hand got restless, like it was now. This had better be something real. What was he saying? He'd rather the opportunity to chew someone out than to be attending to some real emergency.

His son slid from his horse languorously as he opened the door. His collar was meddled in blood. He ran to his son.

"Oh God Hoss, What happened?" Hoss held the back of his head. The blood seeped through his fingers. The whole back of his shirt was soaked in it. "Hopsing, Hopsing get out here now!" It was as if he'd been shot, but that didn't make since. You can't get shot in the head and still be walking around. He looked at the wound as they walked, feeling the sight. There was no hole. The skin though gummy and sticky moved about in ways it shouldn't. He was hit by something blunt. Hopsing appears in the doorway. "Hopsing, Hoss has been hurt. Get us some towels." Hopsing disappears from the door. Ben guides his son to the settee. Hopsing comes back with fresh towels and a wash basin. "Go into town for the Doc." He nods and scurries off. "Son, who did this to you? How'd this happen?" Joe stands at the edge of the room watching his Pa and brother who's covered in blood. "Hoss you have to talk to me. This has gone too far." His son responded with more silence. "Damn it boy!" He cursed. "Your stubborn silence is going to get you killed."

His father cursed. He never curses. His father was more upset than he could have imagined. He had to answer. He had to give him something. If nothing else than a reason why he can't tell him.

"It's never going to stop." He finally blurted.

"Son, it will stop. It can stop if you just talk to me. Tell me who's doing this. I'll make it stop."

"I know you think you can Pa, but that just ain't the way it is."

~.~

Hours later the doc exits the boy's bedroom. "He's sleeping now. I gave him a sedative."

"How is he?"

"He doesn't have a concussion. Thankfully his skull is still intact. I know it looked scarier than it is. Head wounds have a tendency to really bleed."

"I know how head wounds work. I was in the Navy remember? But let's face it, what happened to my son is scary. That boy could have been killed today. Did you look at his torso?"

"After he was a sleep, I took a look."

"and?"

"Well, medically speaking, not a one of his injuries is serious enough to cause any real damage. They're all subcutaneous hematomas. Bruising and swelling just under the surface of the skin."

"But they're all over."

"I saw that Ben. Some weeks old. There is definitely something happening to him."

"Oh that's an understatement."

"and it appears to have been happening to him for some time."

"How much time?"

"It's difficult to say, but with bruising like that, that only takes weeks to heal, that's all I have to go by. I couldn't say for sure if there have been more bruises prior to the ones we're seeing or not. All I have to go by is what I can see. Have you tried talking to him? Maybe asking him directly?"

"Of course I have. What kind of a fool do you take me for? The boy won't open up to me."

"Mmm. He's probably feeling a lot of shame."

"Shame? What does my boy have to be ashamed of? It's those boys that should be ashamed. The ones that are doing this to him."

"You remember what it was like to be young Ben? Haven't you ever been picked on? Been in any fights as a kid? Maybe he's ashamed that whatever is happening to him he's unable to stop."

"He's been acting out, a lot lately. Getting physical with Joe. Snapping at the rest of us."

"It makes sense." Ben gave his friend a cross look. "I know it doesn't seem right." Paul justified. "You might ask yourself, why he's not taking it out on the ones that are doing this. I don't have all the answers for you. What I can say is, he feels safe here. This is a safe environment for him to vent his frustrations. He's got a lot of emotions he's dealing with. A lot of misplaced anger at what's happening to him. He's taking it out on Joe and the rest of you, instead at the ones that are doing this to him, because he feels safe to do so."

"What do I do, Doc? I tried to stop it. I tried to help him and then this happens. What do I do?"

"Are you asking me as a doctor or as a friend?"

"If you've got any advice whatsoever please tell me."

"As a doctor, I'd say keep him home for the next couple of days. Try to get him to open up to you. If for no other reason than his own mental well-being. He needs to work on not bottling things up. Having a safe outlet."

"And as a friend?"

"As a friend," He emitted a heavy sigh. This was difficult for him to say. "Ben, you know I don't condone fighting it goes against my very medical nature, but that boy needs to learn how to defend himself. He needs to stand up for himself. Sometimes Ben, that's the only way."

~.~

"Missah Cotwight want more coffee?"

"No, thank you. This is enough."

"Missa Cotwight want me stay up?"

"No Hopsing, get some rest. We've got to have an early start tomorrow."

"Is Missah Cotwight get west?"

"I'll go to bed in a little bit."

"Missah Cotwight have a lot on mind. Would Missah Cotwight like to talk about it?"

"No, thank you. You go get some rest." Hopsing excused himself and went back into the kitchen leaving the ranch owner with his thoughts. He returns a moment later with two steaming cups in hand. Placing one before Ben before taking a seat at the opposite end of the table.

"Missah Cotwight have lot on mind. Not west until he talk." Ben chortled at his friend.

"Come on Missah Cotwight, you say it to me. Wha's on yo mind? Unless you want to be just as stubbon as numbah two son. You think about boy?"

"Yeah, I just don't know what to do. I wish I could help him but I don't know how. I can't be there with him all the time. He tried coming to me several months ago asking me to take him out of school. At the time, I thought education was the most important thing. That was before I knew all this was happening. He's happy here. He gets along with the hands. They love having him around. It's like he fits in more with adults than kids his own age."

"Gwoan ups moe mature. Gwoan ups not hut son like childwen hut son."

"Should I take him out of school? Is that really the only way?"

"Thay may be otha way. You could teach that boy how to fight."

"This is Hoss we're talking about. Him and Adam would go at it all the time. Half the time he'd get Adam down."

"That is fo play, Missah Cotwight need teach son how hit fo will."

"I don't get it. What is the difference?"

"The diffwence not in fist. It in heya." He said pointing to his heart. "and in heya." Pointing to his head. "Hoss, sweet boy. Fighting not in hawt. Not boy's naichuh. Saving buttafly fwom dwouning in boy's naichuh."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"Nothin wong with kindness. Unless it kills you."

~.~

Following Hopsing's and Martin's advice, Ben kept his son home until his wound closed up. A week went by until Ben found it was safe enough to address it.

"How you feeling son?"

"Better."

"Your head still hurt?"

"Not my whole head. Only back here where it hit me."

"Get yourself dressed and come outside." He did as he was told. A moment later standing before his father in the courtyard.

"Son, I want to teach you how to fight."

"I know how to fight, Pa. Adam and me fought all the time."

"You two wrestled. You didn't fight. Not real fighting."

"We threw punches too."

"but not for real."

"Pa, he taught me. He taught me how to stand, how to hold my fist, how to keep myself protected. He taught me how to move and keep my feet to keep balance and stability. He even taught me to follow through when I punch. He taught me."

"Then why don't you." His son looked hurt.

"What?"

"Why don't you fight? Why don't you defend yourself? You could take any one of those boys, or all of them, all at once if you wanted to. What's stopping you?"

"I don't know Pa. I guess I thought you'd be mad at me."

"Be mad at you? For what? For this? For defending yourself? Listen son, you know I don't condone fighting. Not when there's a better way of handling it. It's barbaric and there's a more civilized way of handling our differences. But sometimes son, you won't have a choice to handle them civilized like. I'd be mad if you went around starting fights, but this is different. They are hurting you. I can't stop it. I wish I could. Adam can't stop it. No, the only one who could make it stop is you. They are hurting you and you could stop it. With one blow, you could make it stop."

"Are you ashamed of me Pa?"

"Oh, son. I'm so proud of you it hurts."