"Are you all right Joe?" Ben asked, slightly concerned at the bemused expression on his son's face.
"Mmmm," came an abstracted reply. "Head hurts a bit." Joe gave his head a slight shake, sending drops of water flying and causing him to yelp as pain shot through his skull. Using his hands to lever himself up, Joe rose slowly, only to stagger as the room tilted violently around him. Ben grabbed him by the elbow.
"Joe?" The voice seemed far away, as if the speaker was down a tunnel. The voice seemed familiar, but for some reason, Joe couldn't quite place it. He felt himself slipping peacefully away from the voice that was now calling his name insistently. Ben stopped trying to get Joe's attention and watched in fascination as the colour drained out of his son's face and he pitched gently forwards onto the floor.
Hoss had taken Cochise into the stable, rubbed him down, settled him in his stall and prepared a hot mash before returning to the house. He walked in, shaking the rain from his hair, only to be greeted by the sight of his younger brother lying sprawled inelegantly on the floor, while his Ben and Adam knelt beside him.
"What's happened to Little Joe?" he demanded, crossing the room with long strides, not noticing the guilty expression that crept across Adam's face. Without waiting for a reply, Hoss bent down, picked up Joe and gently placed him upon the couch. Carefully arranging his brother's head upon a cushion, he withdrew his hand and exclaimed when he saw the blood on his palm.
"He's hurt! Who's done this to him?"
Ben pushed him aside unceremoniously and began to run his hands through Joe's still wet curls. When he encountered the sticky, swollen wound on the back of his skull there was a howl and Joe's eyes flew open.
"You're multiplying" he said enigmatically and tried to sit up. A firm hand on his chest pushed him back down and his father peered closely at him.
"Just lie still, Joseph. You've had a nasty bump on the head and I think you're a bit confused."
"No I'm not!" Joe protested, managing to prop himself up on an elbow. "First there was just Pa, now I've got all three at you staring at me. I'm fine, honestly. Just let me go and get changed." His voice grew more agitated as he continued. "I can manage just fine by myself. I'm all right."
"Course you can, Shortshanks," Hoss replied soothingly. Joe seemed close to tears. "But seeing as how I'm worried about you, why don't you put my mind at ease and let me help you?"
By this time, Joe had wriggled into a sitting position and was slightly alarmed at how giddy he felt. He agreed with only a minimum amount of bad grace, and went upstairs slowly, grateful for Hoss' strong arm around his waist. Ben waited until he heard the bedroom door close and then turned to face Adam.
"Would you like to tell me exactly what happened here?" It wasn't a request. Adam sighed, realising that this particular tale did not reflect particularly well upon him. He was correct. As he related the events, Ben let out a series of increasingly agitated exclamations, culminating in a vehement
"And you call Joe immature! For goodness sake Adam, you're a grown man and you've just knocked a 16 year old boy out cold! Your own brother! And in my living room!"
There really wasn't much you could say in response to that, Adam mused and decided it was probably in his best interests to remain silent.
Having relieved his feelings slightly, Ben decided to see how his youngest was faring. He found Joe sitting up meekly in bed, submitting to Hoss' tender ministrations with a resigned expression. He let out a small squeak of pain as Hoss began to dry his hair with a towel and went unerringly to the still-bleeding wound.
"Let me", Ben took the towel from Hoss and looked carefully at Joe.
By this time, Joe was feeling a lot better and he gave his father a fairly convincing version of his normal disarming smile. Slightly reassured, Ben began a fatherly interrogation, during which Joe admitted that yes, his head hurt a bit; yes, he did know who he was and where he was; and no, he didn't feel particularly hungry, although a nap would be quite nice. Satisfied that the head wound was clean and free from infection and didn't appear to need stitching, Ben agreed this was a good idea and ushered Hoss out of the room.
Once downstairs, Hoss went straight to Adam, demanding "What's wrong with you? You punch the living daylights out of Little Joe when he's already sore and wet and tired and then you just sit here reading!"
It was unusual for Hoss to lose his temper, but the results were usually spectacular. Adam said earnestly "It was a stupid accident, Hoss. We both said some things we shouldn't have, but you know I would never deliberately hurt Joe."
Hoss looked at him for a long moment, before replying. "Wouldn't you Adam? I'm not so sure about that anymore. You've been winding him up like a watch for weeks now. What did you think would happen?"
Without waiting for a reply, he went back to check on Joe. After a couple of hours, he came back down to report that Joe seemed fine and went off to bed without so much as looking at Adam.
Doing his normal nightly check, Ben discovered Joe lying on his stomach, with the bed covers dangling onto the floor. Everything was pretty much as normal then. He couldn't resist checking on the boy's injuries: there was a large, painful looking lump on his head, but it had clotted nicely and there was still no sign of infection. Pulling up the nightshirt gently, he almost winced out loud as he saw the extent of the bruises on Joe's backside and fully understood why the boy had been so short tempered.
Waking up next morning, Joe was surprised to see light it was. "They must have let me sleep in," he thought and started to roll over onto his back, only to be stopped by a sharp throb in the back of head and a corresponding dull ache in his butt. Hobbling over to the mirror, he screwed his head round uncomfortably, pulled up his nightshirt and surveyed the constellation of bruises across his backside with dismay. No way he was going to be sitting comfortably for at least a week. Running his fingers carefully through his hair, Joe found a matted clump of hair and decided to kill two birds with one stone. A bath would help ease the bruising and he could wash the blood out of his hair at the same time.
There was obviously no point in getting dressed, so Joe padded downstairs in his bare feet and was surprised to see his father sitting at his desk. Then again, it wasn't really surprising, he thought. Typical of Pa to stay behind to make sure he was all right. He mumbled a greeting and sat down cautiously at the table.
"Good morning Joseph. How are you feeling today?"
Joe mumbled non-committally and started to butter a roll.
"Where's your robe and slippers, son?"
Joe pondered this question briefly. He had owned a robe at one point, he recalled, but it seemed to have disappeared from his room, along with his slippers. Then again, they might be somewhere in his closet, but there was an awful lot of stuff in there. He should probably sort it out one day. "I'm just going to have this roll and then go for a bath."
Ben recognised an oblique reply when he heard one, but under the circumstances, he decided to let it go. "It's probably best if you take things easy today. That was a nasty knock you took yesterday. In fact, it might be a good idea to get Paul Martin to check you over."
Joe grimaced and said quickly "Oh, no need for that, Pa. I've got a bit of a headache and I'm a bit stiff, but that's all. I really don't need to see the doctor. You worry too much, you know. I mean, we see Paul so often we practically qualify for a Cartwright family discount."
He shoved the rest of the roll into his mouth and shuffled off to have a bath before his father could say anything else. Ben leaned back in his chair and laughed with relief. There didn't seem to be too much wrong with Joe after all.
The bath did help to ease the pain in his butt, but after sitting in the steamy heat for a while, Joe began to feel dizzy again. The water was probably a bit too hot, he thought and decided he'd soaked for long enough. Getting out of the tub proved to be a bit tricky and there was a nasty moment where he almost slipped and had to make a wild lunge to grab onto the back of the washstand for support. He'd just managed to wrap a towel around his waist when his father walked in, carrying a pile of clean clothes.
"Thanks Pa," Joe said and started to dress quickly, before Ben had a chance to start exclaiming over his bruises. Turning to leave the washroom, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
"Let me just check that cut on your head, Joseph." From the tone of voice, it was obvious that Ben would brook no nonsense, so Joe obediently bent his head forward and let his father examine the injury. Ben tutted a couple of times, but conceded that it seemed to be healing nicely.
"Great! I thought I might go fishing down at the lake." After all a day without chores wasn't to be passed up lightly and Joe intended to make the most of it. Besides, fishing was a nice relaxing pastime, and he'd be sitting, so it wouldn't matter if he felt dizzy again.
Ben looked at Joe carefully and decided there could be no real harm in this. "Perhaps you could go after lunch? Adam's coming back then and I know he wants to talk to you."
A nice little chat with Adam was precisely the last thing Joe wanted. He had absolutely no intention of letting his older brother lord it over him again, or listening to him asserting his physical and moral superiority. For once he had the sense not to blurt this out to his father, although Ben recognised the stubborn look on Joe's face and listened with interest as the boy started to prevaricate. Joe was glad that his father accepted his excuse, grabbed his fishing rod and beat a hasty retreat down to the lake.