Taking a ragged breath, his thoughts turned away from Joseph, son of Jacob, and his eleven brothers. For though his fear at being trapped was immeasurable he knew that if Hoss or Adam knew of his present circumstance, they would never stand by and do nothing, let alone further endanger his life like the biblical figures from Genesis. No, they would move heaven and earth to do everything within their power to help him.

Instead his racing mind moved back towards the safety of the other story though his initial thoughts brought him little comfort. One of the principle characters from this tale of adventure had had his countenance hidden, much like his own now, not from the crumbling earth surrounding him, but instead as some had claimed with a black, velvet cloth draped over him, or as others had mentioned later on- with an iron mask forced upon him by his cruel captors.

'Was his face to be forever lost, as well, from all who knew him?" He fretted.

Like the many doors erected to prevent the outside world from listening in to the masked man's cell, the dirt surrounding him had formed an effective barrier cutting him off from making contact with the world above him. Not even a jailer knew of his present fate, and this notion served to increase his worry.

Being young, he had never really thought about death. Youth had a way of making him feel invincible. Death was something that happened to other people- the unlucky, the less fortunate, the sick, the elderly. Yes, he had had a few close scrapes during his lifetime, but never had he truly feared for his safety, though some who knew him would have claimed he lived a charmed life.

'But what would take place this time? If such a sorry hand were to face him at a poker table, then as a betting man he'd have to acknowledge that the odds were stacked high against him.'

A choked sob filled his throat. 'Was this how it all would end? To die here alone in darkness with no one ever to find him? Would there be nothing to mark his passing from this life into the next? No cross, no tombstone, no eulogy? Would his Pa and brothers never learn what had become of him?' His chest grew tighter at the morbid thought making his effort to continue breathing even harder.

He had spent little time alone during his brief life. Just those few hours between dusk and dawn when he retreated into the privacy of his own room. For life on the Ponderosa involved contact with others- his Pa, his brothers, Hop Sing, the ranch hands, the cattle and horses. There wasn't much time for being by oneself. If he had a problem or found himself in some predicament, there was always someone he could turn to for advice or to help him out of it. But not now...

"Pa..." He whispered until his voice caught. 'Adam...Hoss...' His mind continued when his thoughts were cut off further by an extremely painful coughing jag. Long seconds passed before he could get the excruciating hacking under control.

It took abundant effort for him to settle his battered frame and still his swirling thoughts before remembering where he had last left off as his mind returned to those he loved. He cherished the comaradery of being part of a strong and loving family. Sure, they may have tried each others' patience from time to time, but they always had each others' backs when times grew difficult, much like the Three Musketeers from Adam's story.

'One for all and all for one...' had been the musketeers' motto. The same could be said of the Cartwrights.

A spasm of pain, originating in his gut, cut through his captive body as the unstable ground around him continued to shift and crumble about him. As a result, he slid a few more feet while a strangled cry caught in his throat. This renewed agony threatened to tear his mind away from the only comfort he could find at present within this darkened sepulchre.

"God, please, don't let me die here alone! I need them! " He cried out as a shiver of fear raced through him. His plea was met only by the continuing groan of sifting rock and debris causing counterproductive thoughts to gain headway over his more rational thinking. 'They're not here...They won't be. Your fate is to die here alone.'

"Please..." He stammered once again until another series of racking coughs cut off his words and continued breathing grew more and more difficult to sustain in the growing dust and soot.

'No companions were to be with him, just the dark and dirt like it had been for the boy in the Bible and the man in the cell.' His heart pounded wildly within his battered rib cage at this hopeless perspective while a growing wooziness threatened to gain the upperhand over his compromised senses. 'You're trapped,... alone and isolated.... No one will ever find you...Not in time...not in time...' His betraying mind muttered.

"No! No!" He stammered as he tried unsuccessfully to shake his head within his close confines. Tears of frustration leaked out from under dust-covered lashes before making tracks down his soot-streaked face. 'The earth may have swallowed him up,... and it might even eventually lay claim to his life...' he reasoned, 'but it could not defeat him...not his heart...nor his spirit. He was a Cartwright. He wouldn't allow it!'

Taking stock, he realized he was not alone...not while he still breathed. 'This prison might rob him of his last breath, but it could not rob him of his memories...of those who loved him and whom he loved in return...not while life still flowed through his veins.' And his mind turned back towards his father and brothers - His pa's warm eyes, steadying voice, and his strong, comforting embrace, to Adam's cool composure in the face of danger and his ever present words of encouragement whenever he was faced with uncertainty, to finally Hoss's sustaining good nature, the twinkle of merriment and sometimes mischief within his blue eyes, and his ever constant brotherly support...'These gifts could not be taken from him. Not here, not now, not ever!'

"One for all and all for one..." Was all he could manage to gasp in response to the earlier hysteria that had nearly trampled him.

As a young boy in mind play, he used to lie in his bed late at night after Adam had read to him and envision his oldest brother as Athos, the most noble and reserved of the musketeers, while he fashioned Hoss into the larger-than-life Porthos because of his forthright nature and his big, generous heart. And for himself? He could never quite decide between Aramis, the master swordsman, and D'Artagnan, the captain of the guard, and so he claimed them both. For though silver-haired like his pa in the last musketeer installment, it was hard to envision his father as the daring D'Artagnan in any of his boyhood adventures. No, Pa was their anchor, their stabilizing force in good times as well as bad , and even a child's fanciful daydreams of import could not hide from him the enormity that this great man's impact had upon his life as well as the lives of many others who knew him.

'But how would Pa react to this? Would his dark eyes continue to scan the horizon in the weeks following awaiting the return of his youngest son who would never show? No, he could not do this to his pa!'

With these tortuous thoughts, he began to struggle again in a final attempt to free himself, but it was to no avail. Pain lanced through him as a result while his chest heaved in an effort to keep breathing. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry, Pa... I tried...Really I tried," he gasped as the last reserve of his prior adrenaline abandoned his faltering body. "I wanted to get back to you...."

Long minutes passed as he fought to gain some semblance of control over his flailing emotions. At last when some modicum of composure returned to him, he was forced to reconcile with his dire circumstances and the realization that his trip homeward would not be back to his beloved Ponderosa and the father and brothers he loved so well. Injured as he was, he had to accept that his fate was now in Another's hands. But with each tortured breath he drew, fear no longer continued to haunt him. For wherever these Hands would guide him, he was certain in the knowledge of those who loved him and of his love for them. He wasn't alone, not truly, not when this existed for him.

"I have lived a good life because of you..." he whispered hoarsly as his green eyes began to slide shut.

The outside world was a blur , but the faces of his family continued to burn brightly within him and his heart lightened. The excruciating pain, he had been dealing with, now faded in its intensity, and a new found peace washed over his drifting senses allowing him to at last slip away with the knowledge that strong, sure hands would be there to catch him.

'One for all...'

B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/B/

Adam grasped the all too familiar volume from the table before collapsing into the chair beside it. A pensive look furrowed his dark brow as tired, hazel eyes studied the well worn cover and faded embossed lettering. Joe had loved this book as a child. He couldn't remember how many nights his youngest brother had begged him to stay up just a little while longer, so that Adam might read a few more pages of the story. Quite easily he could bring to mind his youngest sibling's youthful countenance in rapt attention as Joe clung to his every word, hellbent to discover what intrigue lay just beyond the next few pages or what dangers lurked within the shadows for their loyal protagonists.

These late night adventure stories lay the groundwork for Joe's subsequent distaste for rising early the next day; a continuing habit that would grow in its propensity throughout his teenage years and beyond much to their father's chagrin. But what proved an even bigger headache for their pa was Joe's penchant as a child to act out many of the various swordplay adventures in the days following. One such incident involved Marius Angeville's epee, an heirloom brought back from New Orleans by his pa and Marie. Joe had skewered the setee once during one of his more rambunctious battles against the unseen Cardinal's guards. Adam could still remember their father's indignation upon discovering the damage caused by Joe's exuberancy.

A small chuckle at this memory caught in Adam's throat only to be quickly replaced by a pain-filled sigh as his attentions turned back to the book he held within his grasp. Fingers marked with numerous scrapes and cracked nail beds, still stained brown from the earth, trembled before they mindlessly began to flip through the pages within their possession. Pages filled with fantastic feats and adventure. A momentary shudder passed through Adam at this disclosure, and he hesitated before deciding to close the book and return it to the table on which it rested just moments before.

Fantastical feats and adventure. So many emotions were conjured up within him as he turned his sober eyes towards the nearby bed. Beneath its covers lay his youngest brother. Joe had cheated death once again- but this time just barely.

'What was it,' Adam mused, 'that predetermined one man's fate so differently from another's? For all intents and purposes, Joe should be dead now, laying beneath the furrowed ground next to his mother's grave. He nearly had been.'

'An untethered horse limping around in search of water, indicatory gravel from a distinct terrain caught between its shoe and hoof, an all too familiar hat lost during an unforseen accident, and even the contours of earth itself through an already developed adjacent shaft. All of these unheralded clues had led to the unlikely discovery of a missing brother's whereabouts and his subsequent rescue.'

'Was it fate or providence?' He wondered. He couldn't tell. 'Though Joe surviving through this ordeal was nothing short of a miracle. Even the protection from the elements provided by the tunnel Joe was trapped in had saved his brother in the long run. For if Joe had had the ability to free himself from the hole, he would have never managed on his own accord to get himself home due to the extent of the injuries he had sustained.'

Within the first few days of finding him, it had been touch and go as to whether his brother would survive his latest ordeal. Dehydration, loss of consciousness, a broken leg, blood loss, shock, fever... All or any of these conditions were enough to claim one man's life. The fever had been the worst, however, brought on by lungs compromised from many hours spent beneath the earth's dank surface. Delirium followed marked by tortured nightmares and incoherent ramblings.

Adam could tell that it tore at his pa's heartstrings to watch and wait at his brother's bedside in the hopes that the tide would turn in their favor. Many times to soothe Joe's restlessness, his father would gently gather the boy close to him while he issued words of comfort. Still his best efforts were for naught as Joe became more and more agitated while uttering jumbled phrases and shouting out words of warning which made little or no sense to those present within his room. Some words were voiced more consistently than others such as one and all, while others remained completely undeciphearble to his worried family. Until that final night, when Adam had talked his exhausted father into returning to his own room to get a few hours of much needed rest after Joe's fever broke.

Many hours passed during which his brother slept more restfully. As he sat reading by the fading lamplight, Adam was alerted to his brother's return to consciousness by a weak sigh. Dropping his book to the wayside, he moved to attend Joe and noted his brother's green eyes trying to focus on the room about him.

"Joe, It's Adam.." He uttered as he reached towards his brother. "Are you in pain? Is there something I can get for you? Would you like some water? " He questioned while his hand made contact with his youngest brother's brow thankful to find that there were no returning signs of fever.

Still Joe seemed disoriented by his surroundings as if navigating within a fog. Slowly his eyes scanned the room about him until at last they fell upon Adam's face, and he whispered almost imperceptibly, "One for all.." before his weak voice dropped off and he drifted back towards sleep again.

Now many nights later with his brother on the mend, Adam acknowledged that yes, indeed it was nothing short of a miracle that Joe was still with them. A slight grin of affection softened his previously brooding features as he picked up the book he had discarded only moments earlier. Then turning towards his sleeping brother, he answered him at last, "And all for one, Joe.... and always all for one..."