Chapter

Hostile Reunion

It was well after dark when Joe was led into the jailhouse still manacled. Instead of taking him to the cages he was given a chair at the desk. Roy whispered to Clem who nodded and went off to the back room. A moment later the other two were led out. Not a single man expected the reaction they got from the three of them when they saw each other for the first time since their ordeal in the desert. The woman's mouth was agape seemingly in fear. The older man's eyes were wide but he held his jaw tight. After a quick glance to register in his mind that it was them, he really saw, Joe broke contact and found a place in the floor to stare at, sucking in a breath and holding it, along with a scowl.

They sat the couple next to Joe and Roy took his seat at the desk. Joe had the appearance as if he wished to disappear at that very moment. Joe's family rallied around him for support. The room was so still you could hear a pin drop. Everyone waiting to hear what would come from their mouths.

Roy broke the silence. "Somebody better start talking."

Seeing them again after all this time. He was hoping they'd be long gone by now. Taking the memories with them. Joe was angry and bitter and was holding onto resentment over what had occurred. But deep down, he also knew that they were holding onto a secret. One they did not want to get out, but was intractably wrapped into what had happened to him.

The ones who had died out there, had their own reasons for accusing Joe. As angry as he was at them, at all of them, he still didn't feel like it was his place to violate their secret. This was their secret to tell. It would buy them honor if they did. Redemption, but even still, it was their secret. His secret was what he was made to do as a result of their actions. He could tell his secret. Face up to what he had done, suffer the consequences, which might even mean death, but even still, in doing so, he would have to violate their secret. Was this the real reason he wasn't talking or could it be that he truly was afraid of dying? Being hung for his crimes. Letting his legacy be one of shame. A burden his family would forever bear. He was the reason those people out there were really dead. Because he didn't want to die. He walked out of that rope. For what reason? Just to walk himself right into another?

"Oh, why don't you just tell them Joe?" Mrs. Hayden, ardently cried out. What did she want from him? Did she expect him to tell all?

"Joe?" Roy pushed. With no one breaking the silence and spilling the beans, Roy made the decision. His tactic of having them all sit together hadn't worked.

"Fine have it your way. Perhaps a night in jail will put some sense into you." He nodded to Clem, who went around to retrieve them.

"There are only two cells. Just what am I supposed to do?" Ms. Hayden queried as she was pulled up.

"You'll get the left one."

"Now is that really necessary?" She continued to argue.

Adam pulled Roy aside. "Is this really the smartest move here, Roy? If that man is a murderer, is it really wise to put him in there with Joe?" Brent scoffed. Nice wording. He thought. He liked how they were avoiding calling Joe out as the murderer. He as much as told them all he was and still they refused to acknowledge this.

"Fine, take her back to the hotel." He commanded of Clem.

"Yes sir."

"Victor." One of Simmons men looked up at his name. "You go with them. Watch her. Make sure she stays there." Clem looked to Roy, who nodded in agreeance. Clem took her by the arm which she yanked away.

"I can walk." He bit his tongue and let her lead.

"Don't you worry Joe. We're going to be right here with you the whole night." Ben culled his son.

"Not here, you're not." Brent obstructed.

"Why not?"

"For the same reason we're not putting Henshaw in with your son. We don't need the headache of something happening. Let's just avoid that temptation altogether."

Brent seemed all too eager to help Roy in pulling Joe away and into the back cages. Henshaw took the left cage, Joseph the right. The family was still there when the special agent came back out. He stared them on as if asking, if they needed anything more. Ben worried if Joe would be alright here the night, with this special agent who seemed overzealous at his job. Would he find a reason to hurt Joe? Was there another reason he didn't want the family to stay?

"Alright Mr. Simmons, but we'll be right nearby. Across the street at that hotel. There's nothing you could do to stop that."

"You stay out of her room, and you keep that boy of yours out of her room too." He curiously directed to Adam who stared down Brent with a sly gaze. "We'll be watching."

"Come on." Adam pulled their worried father out the door.

~.~

Clem had passed the family crossing the street. They appeared agitated. The father was particularly distressed over all that was happening. He knew these people to be good people. They passed him with little more than a glance as they went by. He felt guilt for what they were going through. They no more deserved this, than that boy in there.

"I understand that you are trying to do your job." Clem heard as he approached the jailhouse. "I am trying to do my job too." Roy was admonishing Brent. "You could stand to have a little more tact. This is my town. I know these people. When this is over, you'll be gone. I'll still be here."

"Make your point sheriff."

"You are treating this family like they're the scum of the earth."

"I'm sorry if you think my methods are a little harsh." Roy scoffed at his derisive apology. "I have a reputation for due diligence, which is exactly what the stage-line is desperate for right now. I'm getting pressure from the stage-line for answers."

"They'll get their answers, when we all get them."

"I'm sorry to say sheriff, that's not good enough this time." Roy was silent bidding Brent to explain which after a breath he did. "Apparently the line is getting pressure from DeSoto's family to solve this thing. I don't know if you know this sheriff. This mess has caught the attention of Washington. We are dealing with some pretty powerful people here. The DeSoto's are a big name in Italy and have a lot of pull with their government."

"I understand." Roy breathed out his humbled response.

"I don't think you quite do. That letter I received when we got back this afternoon, was to inform me that a judge had already been sequestered and will be here in the morning."

"Tomorrow? That's too soon. We don't even have a suspect."

"Don't we?" Of course, Brent was thinking of Joe, but as far as Roy was concerned there were still two more that weren't talking. Two more that he had a lot less faith in. "Tomorrow there will be an official inquest to see if any or all of those people will be held over for trial."

"Now I know this boy. I've watched him grow up over the years. I know he would not be capable of something like this."

"Well, I don't know this boy and furthermore Sheriff, I don't know you."

"Now just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Let me tell you what that means, your loyalty may be to the Cartwright's."

"Now I didn't say that."

"My loyalty is to the stage-line and to its employees and it's to those passengers who died out there and making sure they find some justice."

"I can assure you my loyalties are for law and order."

"I hope you're right Sheriff, for your sake." Coffee's face turned a dark redden hue.

"I know that boy is not guilty and if I'm wrong I will string him up myself." Brent nodded and went away nearly knocking Clem over, who was at the door.

Clem, who overheard the conversation entered. "I ordered a couple plates of food. They'll be brought over when they're ready."

"Thanks." The deputy considered before he began.

"Sheriff, are you sure about this kid, that he didn't do this? I mean you say he's not guilty Sheriff I got to believe you. But are you sure?"

"Little Joe Cartwright, did not do this."

"Could you really put a rope around him?" Roy took a breath to consider, then answered obdurately.

"I don't have to."

"Right." The deputy agreed passively. Roy went back to his desk and pulled out some paper. After settling himself down, he got to writing; his report over the events that happened, from what it appeared.

"You're done for the rest of the night. You could head home."

"Yeah. Good night sheriff." He dipped his hat and walked out.

Up the street Brent Simmons was standing outside the law office of Mr. Thomas Prescott. The door opened to receive him in. Prescott was good at his work. In his mid-thirties he's had an impressive conviction rate. He thought back to the sheriff still inside. He sure hoped Roy knew what he was doing. He'd sure hate for he to be wrong. For many reasons. For all them Cartwright's. For that boy in there and right along with them was for the sake of his boss. With as much as Roy cared for them, for all of them; for he to have to be the one to put a rope around that boy's throat. He didn't think he'd have it in him to ever recover from that. That would likely be the defining moment that would end his boss's career. Clem breathed in the night. There was one more thing he had to do before he could retire. He marched back across the street to where he'd last left Ms. Hayden and the watchman. He was sure this was where the Cartwright's would have come.

~.~

"I don't know what is going on. I couldn't get a straight answer from either of them." Adam told of his interaction with the two upstairs in the hotel room just hours prior. Father and sons sat around the restaurant table at the Grand Hotel comparing notes.

"Did they tell you anything?"

"They said talk to Joe. She made it sound as if he would have all the answers."

"So why isn't he talking?"

"Little Joe is many things but I know that my son is not a murderer."

"You know that and I know that, heck even Roy knows that, but if he didn't do this than why isn't he defending himself?"

"Maybe he really does have something to hide." Hoss muttered, thinking of the bruises nobody else knew about. They both looked at Hoss curiously. He shouldn't have said that aloud.

Clem interrupted their train of thought, as he came through the door. After spending a moment with the desk clerk, he came directly over.

"Clem." They stood to greet them.

"No. Sit." They promptly reclaimed their chairs. "I just came over to inform you that a judge is coming in tomorrow. They're going to hold an official inquest, to see if any or all three of the passengers will be held over for trial."

"Isn't this a bit premature?" Ben asked.

"Brent is getting pressure from the stage-line, who is getting pressure from DeSoto's family to solve this thing. Apparently, DeSoto comes from a wealthy family who has a lot of political influence." Ben could understand the families need for answers. If the roles were reversed, he could see himself desperately wanting answers. Furthermore, he couldn't put it past himself not to use every tool within his power to find justice for his son. As it was now, he was desperate for answers.

"Thanks Clem."

"Night." He dipped his hat and departed. They all ruminated on this. It was Hoss who seemed to be having an exceptionally difficult time with this.

"What is it Hoss?" Adam asked, noticing his brother's ill look. "Do you think Little Joe is hiding something?" If the middle brother was doing a poor job at masking his emotions before, now there was no hope for him. "Hoss, is there something you're not telling us?" Hoss scrunched his features. "Hoss?"

"There is something."

"What?"

"I didn't think Little Joe would've want me to tell you. I mean, it wasn't my place and he's obviously keeping it a secret for a reason."

"Spit it out Hoss" He swallowed a hard lump like he was swallowing past acid bile.

"He's got bruises pa." Ben thought of Joe's arms. What he'd seen upon pulling back his sleeve. Were there more than that?

"Did he tell you this?"

"No. He's trying to hide 'em."

"How do you know?"

"This morning. When you sent me up to his room to get him for breakfast. I walked in on him putting on his shirt. He turned his back on me thinking I didn't see, but I did. Thing was, there were more on his back?"

"How many are we talking about?"

"I don't know. Quite a bit, I guess. It all happened so fast. I don't even think that he knows that I saw."

"What did you see?"

"Welp, he's got a real ugly one under his ribcage. That one is pretty big and dark. His back is worse than his front.

"Actually, I have something too." They both look to their pa. "Joe's having nightmares."

"Bad?"

"Not the worst I've seen. But he was definitely going through some sort of struggle last night."

"That's weird." Hoss felt the weight.

"By itself it's not much." Adam allayed. "But when you add it all up, there's definitely something weird going on with him."

"Yeah."

"You told pa, that Joe was telling you 'They want to kill me.' Do you think he might have killed those people in self-defense?"

"Three bodies. Different places different times. That's far-fetched, but possible. I guess."

"I just wished he would say something."

"Okay, let's go over again, everything we know."

~.~

Joe was laying on the bench with his back turned to Henshaw. The boy wasn't sleeping, just doing everything he could to avoid facing him. Avoid facing his reality. Henshaw watched the boy from his cell. He'd hardly eaten anything at all. Henshaw trained his stomach a long time ago not to fear bars. He had to, otherwise he'd have starved years ago.

The boy was different than he. Rich kid. Cartwright and DeSoto had that in common. The type of kids that had everything handed to them. He probably wasn't used to being on this side of the law. No, that probably wasn't true. He was very different than DeSoto. DeSoto wasn't the type to get his hands dirty. The spirit this kid had, he'd probably been in a scrape a time or two. He saw the way he handled himself out there. Taking charge, standing up for what was right. He knew the land, which was why they trusted him.

Henshaw grew up in a life much different than Cartwright. He remembers having that same unbridled spirit at his age. That spirit does nothing for a poor man. Having to steal for every dollar. There was no other place for him to end up but prison. Prison made sure to crush that spirit within. This sheltered rich kid would know nothing about that. He seemed to be having a rough time of it now, being locked up as he is. Henshaw spent his life behind bars. That wasn't a life well lived. It was hardly a life at all. Now that he was finally out, he could be free to live the life he wanted to. The life he missed out on for all these years. But could he really? How much living could one do with the law forever at his back? If the lawmen found out who he really was he'd go right back to prison.

This boy knew his secret. Why hadn't he told anyone? This kid had every right to tell. If it had been anybody else, it would have been over for him for sure. He'd be back on a stage, headed for Texas by now? So why hadn't the boy said anything? Especially after what was done to him. Why hasn't he told anyone? Doesn't he know what's at stake? As long as the boy keeps his secret, he could be free. At what cost? At the cost of the young man's life? Would this boy continue to keep his secret until the end? Why would he? What reason would he have? If it went that far, could this old lag allow it? Was this farce worth the life of this boy? He laid back and drifted off to these thoughts.

~.~

The men who had stayed up much later than they probably should have considering the important day they'd be facing tomorrow, had finally decided to retire for the night. It was well after dark when they left the jailhouse, though they went right away to secure their rooms before ordering supper, they were still only able to get one room for the three of them to share. Of course, their pa would get the bed. The two sons would make do with what was left. Their pa had the parental instinct to care for his sons and let them share the bed but their filial piety one out. Ben knew there would be no arguing and so he submitted.

All three considered the position they were in. Another adventure they were forced to endure as a result of the exploits of their youngest. This was just like him. All the trouble he's found himself in over the years. Mostly that he's caused himself due to his ornery nature and his need to play pranks. Or the trouble he'd find himself in the myriad of times he was standing up for what he believed to be right. The underdog. Joe was an underdog, small for his age, standing up for a world of underdogs. He had a knack for finding trouble. Acting on his emotions. On impulse to fill some need, whether hedonically or altruistically the results would usually turn out the same, with him in trouble, and then somehow the rest of them caught up in the mix. This time didn't feel like those other times though. This didn't feel like something he caused. This was something that happened to him and was still happening to him, but what? He was there and they were here, in the cramped quarters of this hotel room, trying to make due for the night; and he was there, in the even smaller cage of the jailhouse. Again, they were here because of him, but whatever was happening to them they couldn't help but consider the position their youngest was in.

~.~

The jailhouse was dark. Roy had the lantern turned dim. He was leaning back in his chair at the desk and had dozed off. Back in the jail cells things were not so peaceful.

"You threatened the lives of four people just to save yourself?" Roberto accused.

Joe tossed about as the accusations of the dead plagued his dreams.

"You were going to kill me."

The jail cells were dark with only the dim light of the moon seeping in but that was not where Joe was. He was in another dark space. It felt cramped, confining, being in the presence of his ghastly accusers; but at the same time not, with darkness reaching far into the great expanse of this other-worldly realm. He felt oddly exposed not knowing who else might be out there watching him in his trials.

The eyes of a thousand angels.

"We trusted you to get us out. We trusted you and you led us to our death."

"You were going to kill me. What choice did I have? She just needed to confess." He directed to the love scorn woman off in the corner. "That's all. Just confess."

"Confess her sins to save you."

"To save all of us."

"From you!" He chastised. "Face it Cartwright. You were the enemy. You held the lives of three others for ransom to save yourself."

"No."

"Yes."

"I wasn't killing them. She was."

"Oh, let's be honest. You both were. True, she could have confessed and saved us; but it wasn't she that led us into that desolate cavern to begin with. It was you. In the eyes of the law, you would have been found guilty."

"But I would have died right along with you."

"Order, order in the court." Stubby Barday hammered the gavel against the high bench from which he stood. He was wearing a black robe and a wig of curls acting as the impartial judge. The only truly impartial one of them all.

"After hearing the evidence of the highest court, we find you, Joseph Cartwright, guilty on all charges."

"They were going to kill me." He continued to justify. "What choice did I have?"

"They were going to kill me."

Henshaw had awoken to the sound of muttering from the next cell over.

"No. They were going to kill me."

He'd been doing this for a while now. Tossing about and muttering to himself. The old-timer got up and pressed his head into the bars with a wearisome and heavy heart. He watched over the boy as he slept, drowning now in remorse. God, what they did to this kid was bad. But what was still being done to him was downright damnable.