Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, story alerts and favorites! I am overwhelmed by the response this got, and it inspired me to upload again for the second time in a week. This was just a little thing I wanted to write down; I am glad others are enjoying it!

Chapter Warnings: Nothing graphic

Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable. If I owned Bonanza, I would have fought to keep Adam on the show.

The following day was much like the preceding day. Joe was late to breakfast, unnaturally quiet, and actually snapped at his father when Ben asked him if he was alright. Joe evaded Adam altogether and avoided Hoss as much as he was able. Adam could tell it rankled Ben greatly to see this change in his son. At dinner, the patriarch cleared his throat and asked for his boys' attention.

"Adam, Little Joe, Hoss, as you know, winter is fast approaching. There are a few errands that need to be done before snow falls, and it will take all three of you to help me."

"Well, sure, Pa!" Hoss said eagerly. "What needs to be done?"

Ben smiled indulgently at his kindhearted son. "I need two of you to go Carson City. You boys remember Phillip Walker?"

The boys nodded, remembering the man who had recently negotiated a timber contract with the Ponderosa.

"Well, there are some papers that need to be signed before we can start shipping. I need the other one of you to go over to Widow Baxley's and help her with her harvest crop. It's small, but she needs another set of helping hands."

"I'll do that, Pa." Hoss said quickly. Adam hid a smirk, knowing his middle brother's main reason for volunteering was the Widow's famed pies and cakes, and the fact she was more than generous with sharing them. He had no objection; a trip to Carson City would be a nice change of scenery. Little Joe said nothing one way or the other.

"Very well." Ben said. "You boys should probably start for Carson City tomorrow. I'll get Hop Sing to prepare some food; and I'll draw up the papers tonight. Is that alright?"

Adam and Little Joe nodded, one smoothly, one automatically. Ben smiled, seeing a slight spark coming into Little Joe's eyes again. He was satisfied; he had hoped the proposed trip would help shake Joe of whatever had transpired on his last trip. Whatever happened, Adam would be there to help weather the storms Little Joe would inevitably run into.

His optimism lasted all the way until both boys were saddled up and pointed toward Carson City. Joe had regained a little of his usual fire, but it was clear he was still despondent about something. Ben stood watching his two sons ride off, not allowing himself to worry. He knew Little Joe; eventually he would either work through his problems or go to his father. Ben could no longer see the dust being kicked up by the horses, and turned and went back inside.

BNZ BNZ BNZ

Little Joe handed the livery stable boy a coin, smiling gratefully as he took Sport and Cochise from the tired Cartwright. The youngest boy aimlessly walked back up the street to the Hotel, where Adam was arranging for their rooms. Little Joe winced as the pain in his back grew sharper. The sweat and dust from the long ride dropped into the wounds, making them sting. Little Joe had been lucky so far; Adam hadn't noticed the wounds during the days on the trail, even when they stopped for the night. But he had a feeling he couldn't hide it much longer. Adam was a sharp man; Joe knew that he saw the flashes of pain in his eyes. On the trail it could be passed off as saddle sore, or he could even fake a light injury from the ride. But Adam would put two and two together soon enough.

Little Joe paused at the door to the Hotel, shifting his green coat a little straighter. He knew he had better start acting more like himself; there was no need for Adam to piece together the puzzle sooner than he already would. He tilted his hat and pasted on a jaunty smile, trying to override his irrational feeling that someone was watching him. Stalking him...reaching for him…grabbing him…

Little Joe pushed open the door and stepped into the brightly lit hotel, his jaunty smile dimmed somewhat but enough to fool Adam. He hoped.

"There you are, brother." Little Joe bumped the black-clad man cheerfully. "We all set?

Adam glanced up from signing the registry book with a faint smile. "Well, do you want the bad news or the good news?"

Joe frowned. "Better gimme the bad." He clenched his fist tight, ignoring the stinging across his shoulders.

"They didn't have two rooms for us; the good news is the one room has two beds, and the baths are free." Adam grinned, falling in step with Little Joe up the stairs to their room.

Joe felt a flash of anxiety flood through him. He managed a smile. "Well, if that is the worst of our problems on this trip, I'll be happy."

Adam nodded his agreement. They found their room with no trouble; it was a quaint room with two neat, quilt-covered beds and a writing desk. While it was not lavish, it was comfortable and homelike. Little Joe leaned against the door frame, nodding his approval.

"Nice looking place."

Adam agreed. "I'll see about meeting Mr. Walker, if you want to go rest. Or get a drink; I saw a decent looking saloon a few doors down."

Little Joe nodded, not catching the sudden shrewd look his brother shot him. "Sounds good, I might look into that. I might just go get myself a bath, too."

Adam nodded sagely. "Yes, I think that might be the best idea."

"Hey!" Little Joe protested, stretching out on one of the beds. "You don't exactly smell like a basket of fruit either!"

Adam gave his little half grin. "Compared to you, little brother, I am a rose." He drew out the last word in his dramatic, teasing manner, then ducked as Little Joe threw a pillow at him.

Little Joe hid his growl of pain at the jagged throbbing that ripped through his shoulder at the act. He noticed Adam staring at him and hastened to cover his hurt with a joke. "I guess I'm still pretty sore from the trip. If you wanted to beat me in arm wrestling, now is your chance."

Adam smirked. "I'll wait until you aren't sore, to make it even." He tossed the pillow back lightly.

Little Joe nodded at him and watched his brother leave. As soon as he was sure Adam wasn't coming back, he took off his jacket and shirt, gritting his teeth in pain as his shirt stuck to the gashes. He hissed, then slid over to the full length mirror in the corner. They seemed to be healing, but they were still painful. He stared at himself over his shoulder, seeing the angry red tacks all over his back, reliving the white hot pain, the snapping of the whip filling his ears. He looked down at his chest, seeing the bruises and scrapes…feeling the pain as sharply as is he was still being kicked…still being whipped, still screaming out for mercy but none coming. The nightmarish recollections captured him completely, holding him a prisoner to a memory.