Summary:  Sequel to The Prodigal. Joe is struggling to forget San Quentin State Prison when one of his fellow prisoners shows up wounded on his doorstep.

Rated: K (24,660 words)

The Prodigal Series:

The Prodigal
The Outlaw

 

The Outlaw

 

He couldn’t move. That’s how it always started; as paralysis flowed into his limbs, panic seeped into his mind. Then came the scent, the smell of rot and filth, sickly sweet and sour at the same time. It made him retch, rolling over on the floor that was hard and unforgiving through the thin blanket and layer of filthy straw.

Darkness rolled in front of his eyes like thick grey smoke. And then he heard it. A crack that made his whole body jerk. A leering grin hung in front of him, even with his eyes closed. Joe tried to tear it away, but it laughed at him. The whip cracked again, and this time, Joe felt a slice of pain tear across his back. The face laughed again because it knew.

You’ll never truly escape.

Joe jerked awake and automatically stifled a thrash that could have landed him on the floor. He lay with his eyes wide open, breathing like a fish on a riverbank. He focused on the breaths. In, out, in, out.

You’re home. He told himself for the millionth time. Not back there. But part of back there had clearly come home with him. Joe stared up at the ceiling, terrified of going to sleep again. It was like sliding into dark water with a monster just waiting for him to dive under the surface.

Back when he’d first arrived home in October, he’d thought that it was all behind him. San Quentin State Prison had never seemed so far away as he’d fallen asleep that first night. But then it had come back with a vengeance, and the next thing he’d known was his Pa waking him up from a screaming nightmare, the first of many. Eventually the screaming had stopped, and he’d lied and told his Pa that he was sleeping fine. He didn’t want to worry him, and he felt like the nightmares were childish.

You would think surviving while actually in prison would be harder than surviving when you’re free. He thought. Clearly not.

The sun would be up in a couple of hours, so there was no point in going back to sleep even if he had wanted to. Joe rolled out of bed, got dressed, and went out to the barn. There were stalls to be cleaned, and somehow when he was doing work, he was able to get his mind off the ghosts that haunted it.  

~*~

 

“I can’t wait to get home and stretch out by the fire.” Hoss had one hand on the reins and one in his pocket. He kept switching hands so that they could take turns being warm. Joe looked over at his brother and smiled slightly. Hoss hated the cold the most in the family.

 

“Stretch out with a warm cup of coffee and a plate of Hop Sing’s ginger cookies…” Hoss unconsciously spurred his horse faster.

 

“Easy, Hoss.” Joe chuckled. “The cookies will still be there whether we get home in ten minutes or eight.”

 

“Not if Adam eats them all.” Hoss’s face wrinkled in concern.

 

“He out went with Pa this morning. You didn’t know?”

 

“No. How did you know? They left before the sun was even up.”

 

“I was up, that’s all.” Joe tried to ignore the look Hoss was giving him. Pa and Adam could holler and try to reason with him, but all Hoss had to do was look, and Joe felt like a bug between a ten year old’s thumb and forefinger. “Alright, I couldn’t sleep.” he snapped. “So I went out to clean the barn and saw them leave.”

 

“Seems to me you spend more time doing chores in the middle of the night than sleeping.” Hoss commented.

 

“It wasn’t the middle of the night.” Joe snapped. Now he was the one silently urging his horse faster, hoping they would arrive at the ranch so the conversation could end.

 

“And what did Pa say when he saw you?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Nothing?”

 

“Nothing.” Joe’s voice carried a dangerous edge that warned Hoss not to push him. The truth was that Pa hadn’t seen him that morning; Joe had heard him and Adam coming and had made a flying lead for a pile of hay bales that he could hide behind until they left. He didn’t want to know what Pa would have said if he had seen him.

 

“Joe…”

 

“Hoss, whatever you’re going to say, I guarantee it’s not going to make me feel better. Can we just get back to the ranch so you can eat your cookies and I can get a nap?”

 

Hoss hesitated, not wanting to drop the issue, and changed his mind. Joe would come out with whatever was bothering him when he was good and ready, and not a moment before. He nodded. “Alright then. Let’s see what that little cow pony of yours can do. See you at the dead oak.” he spurred Chubb into a gallop.

 

Joe grinned and kicked his horse forward. Of course Chubb would beat Coco, even with the extra weight of Hoss. He was a good horse, reliable and hard working, but that was it. Ben had offered to get Joe another horse, one with a little more prestige, but Joe didn’t want just any horse. He was waiting for the right one.

 

As he’d expected, Hoss and Chubb beat them to oak tree that had been struck by lightning a few years ago. He waited for Joe to catch up and then they walked the last quarter mile to the house to let the horses cool out. Joe patted Coco’s slightly hot shoulder.

 

“Not your fault, buddy.” he said.

 

“Sure wish it would snow.” Hoss said as they rode into the yard. “If it has to be cold, it might as well be white instead of this dead brown and grey.”

 

“We had snow for Christmas.” Joe said.

 

“Yeah, but it didn’t land; it just fluttered around in the air. I’m talking thick snowflakes that pile up on the ground until there’s enough to bury yourself in.”

 

“And then we have to shovel off the porch and a path to the barn.” Joe pointed out.

 

“Since when did you become such a Scrooge?”

 

“How is it a Scrooge to not like shoveling snow?” Joe demanded. The corners of his mouth twitched up into a grin that suddenly faded when he saw a figure lying prone on the porch. “Hoss!” he yelled before running over. The man was face down, but as Joe rolled him over, recognition dawned on Joe’s face.

 

“Jimmy.” he whispered.

 

“Jimmy who?” Hoss knelt beside Joe.

 

“From San Quentin.” Joe blinked several times to clear his head of the numerous thoughts that had started spinning around in it at the sight of the man who had befriended him while he was in prison. His fingers ran down the front of Jimmy’s shirt to where a handkerchief covered a bloody wound. “He’s been shot.”

 

“Is he alive?”

 

“Yeah.” Joe stood. “Hoss, you get him inside; I’ll go for the doc.”

 

He took Chubb. Despite the situation, he couldn’t help but noticing how much faster his brother’s horse was as he raced to Doc Travis’s. After telling the doctor his story, he reluctantly let the weary horse walk back to the Ponderosa. Every inch of him wanted to race back and find out if Jimmy would be alright, but he knew Hoss would have his hide if he lamed his horse. He got back to the ranch just as the doctor was leaving.

 

“Will he be alright?” Joe asked tensely.

 

“He’ll be fine; the wound wasn’t as bad as I first thought, just grazed it really. I’m assuming he was in such bad shape more from lack of food than from the wound. A couple days rest and he should be good as new. He’s awake now, if you want to see him.”

 

Joe didn’t wait to tell the doctor goodbye; instead he took the stairs two at a time. Jimmy was in Hoss’s room. He seemed to be sleeping, but he opened his eyes when Joe entered.

 

“What have you grown, six inches since I last saw you?” Jimmy smiled weakly.

 

“What happened?” Joe ignored the greeting.

 

“I thought I’d come and see if you could beat me at checkers.”

 

“How’d you get shot?”

“Well, you see, there was this gun, and I could be wrong, but I’m assuming somebody pulled the trigger. That’s just a guess though.”

Joe didn’t smile, and Jimmy shook his head.

“Harsh. I thought it was funny.”

“You’re not going to tell me? I mean you show up on my doorstep half dead…”

“Yeah, and I was a little hurt by your lack of hospitality. I mean, you haven’t seen me in what, two and a half months, and when I come for a visit you start laying into me with questions before you even ask how I’ve been.”

“I know how you’ve been, you’ve been shot!” Joe remembered Jimmy’s sense of humor as being a lot less irritating than this.

“Yeah. But don’t worry, the guy thinks I’m dead so he won’t be coming after me.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“It makes me feel better.”

Joe took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If Jimmy didn’t want to tell him his story, fine. He had to be in a bed for at least another day; Joe would have time to pry it out of him later. “Where’s Hoss?”

 

“He went to get some food.”

 

“I need to talk to him. You take it easy.”

 

“Everything I take is easy, Joe; you ought to know that. I am a thief after all, among other things.”

 

Joe tried to look mad, but a grin squeaked through his grim expression on his way out of the room. “I’m glad you’re ok.” he said before shutting the door.

 

“Me too, chico.”

 

“So the doc says he’s gonna be alright?” he asked Hoss when he found him in the kitchen. He was putting some food on a tray for Jimmy.

 

“Yeah.” Hoss pursed his lips, and Joe knew he had something to say. He also knew what it was, but he waited for Hoss to muster up the nerve.

 

“Joe… did he tell you what happened?”

 

“He says he was shot.”

 

“Well anyone can see that.”

 

“No, he didn’t tell me.”

 

“Oh.” They both fell silent. “Joe, I know he’s a friend of yours, and I don’t have any truck with him being here, but… well, I don’t know what Pa’s gonna say.” Hoss finally said.

 

“Yeah.” Joe had a couple of guesses, and none of them were pleasant. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. But Pa wouldn’t turn a man out who’d just been shot, would he?”

 

“Depends on why he’d been shot, I reckon.” Hoss hesitated. “You don’t think…”

 

“No.” Joe cut his brother off.

 

“It’s a fair question.”

 

“He’s not running from the law, Hoss.”

 

“Alright.” Hoss picked up the tray of food. “Just thought I’d ask.”

 

When he left, Joe leaned up against the table. It had been a fair question, and it was one that Pa would ask too. Pa would want to know every detail of the circumstances as to why Jimmy had been shot, and Joe had no answers for him.

 

~*~

 

Ben and Adam got back that night while Joe was out in the barn feeding the horses. He looked up when Adam entered with Sport and Buck, his and Pa’s horses.

 

“Hey, Joe.” Adam began to untack and Joe automatically started to help him. “Anything interesting happen while we were gone?”

 

Define interesting. Joe thought. Would you consider and escaped convict showing up at our door with a bullet hole in his side interesting? Hypothetically speaking, of course. “Not really.” He said. “Did Pa go on inside?”

 

“Yep.”

 

So Hoss would be the one to tell him. Maybe that was for the best.

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

“Why do you ask that?” Joe asked.

 

“Because you just tightened the cinch instead of undoing it.”

 

“Oh.” Joe quickly unlooped the leather knot and slid it free. “Uh… I’ve got to go, Adam.” he slipped out of the barn and went to the house at a run then he stopped before entering. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to say. Pa was certain to suspect Jimmy of something illegal, and Joe had his own misgivings himself, but that wasn’t the point. While he acted as if life was a game, Joe knew that his friend had strong emotions. Whatever had led up to the bullet being fired, Joe knew it wasn’t because Jimmy was trying to hurt someone. Now he just had to convince Pa.

 

Ben looked up when Joe entered. For a moment they were both silent, then Ben spoke.

 

“Joe.” He took a deep breath. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation. “Hoss tells me you have an old friend up there.”

 

“Yes, sir.” From the look on his face, Ben could tell Joe wasn’t looking forward to the conversation any more than he was.

“From prison.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And he’s shot.”

“Yes, sir.” Joe felt stupid repeating the same two words, but what else was he supposed to say? He looked down at the sideboard where his fingers had been unconsciously tracing a circle, unable to meet his Pa’s steadfast eyes.

“And you don’t find that a little…” Ben cast about in his mind for the right word, one that wasn’t too condemning but would get the point across.

“Alarming? Suspicious? Convicting?” Joe had found his tongue. He raised his head. “Pa, he’s a friend that came here for my help. Was I supposed to turn him away?”

“Well, no but… cautions should be taken, son.”

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“Do you?”

Joe looked down again, and Ben had scored a point. He didn’t feel at all victorious though.

“Look, I’m not saying we should throw him out.” He wasn’t sure what he was saying. The situation had needed to be addressed, and he was addressing it, whatever that was supposed to mean. He was as much in the dark as his son. “I just want to know more about his man, that’s all.”

“You want to know more about him, Pa?” Joe said in a low tone. “He saved my life. If it hadn’t been for him, I would have given up in that prison, Pa. Just let them beat me down until I couldn’t pull myself back up. And then he told Lucky, the man in charge of the escape, that I should be in on it. If it hadn’t been for him, I still might be there. Yeah, he’s a criminal, but he’s a good man all the same.” Joe took a deep breath. He hadn’t meant to go that deep into his memories. He focused on where he was, the crackling of the fire, the smooth sideboard beneath his fingertips, his father’s eyes meeting his and trying to understand what he was saying. The ghosts that had sprung up returned to the back of his mind.

“Look, I’m just asking you to not judge him.” he finally said.

“Alright, son.” Ben laid his hand on Joe’s shoulder. He’d sensed his son’s sudden withdrawal, but he tried not to let his worry show. “As long as that bullet wasn’t from some lawman somewhere, he can stay.”

“Thanks, Pa.”

~*~

According to what was quickly becoming a habit, Joe fought off sleep that night. Sometimes the nightmares came, and sometimes they didn’t, and it made falling asleep a risky business. Usually he managed to stay up until one or two in the morning, but he hadn’t gotten to take a nap that afternoon, and his eyelids felt like they had ten pound weights attached to them. Joe tried to sit up, but the weights had shifted, and now his entire body felt heavy and sluggish.

Fighting off sleep when his body was crying out for it was almost as bad as struggling to wake up while trapped in the subconscious. Joe rolled himself over, forgetting that he was on the couch and not his bed because of Jimmy. A muffled thump accompanied his landing on the wooden floor. Joe was too tired to even notice. He tried to sit up. He would walk around a little, maybe go to the kitchen and get a drink. Then he’d stick his head outside and let the cold air blow away the cobwebs of sleep.

Even as he planned it out, and even saw himself doing it, Joe’s body relaxed on the hard floor, and his mind slipped into a deep sleep.

“So the couch wasn’t comfortable enough for you, Joe?”

Joe felt a nudge on his wrist and he opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was sunlight streaming in through the window and lighting up Adam’s amused face.

Daylight. Thank God. He’d made it through another night.

“I must’ve rolled off.” Joe stood and wished he hadn’t. His body groaned in protest from sleeping against the hard wooden floor boards. He twisted his head back and forth in a useless attempt to loosen the crick in his neck.

“Morning, little brother.”

“Ow!” he yelped as Hoss slapped him on the back on his way to the kitchen.

“What’s the matter with him?” Hoss asked Adam.

“He’s just a little sore from sleeping on the floor last night.” Adam told him.

“On the floor? Joe, don’t you know there’s a couch right there?”

“No, Hoss, I didn’t know. Thanks for telling me.” Joe sat down, still rubbing his neck. “Did Pa leave early again?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m surprised he didn’t wake you.” Adam poured syrup over his hotcakes.

“He went out to the pasture to check on the herd again?” Hoss shook his head. “I don’t know why he thinks the herd will grow faster if he spends every day just staring at ‘em.” He piled five hotcakes on his plate, hesitated, and then took two more.

“No, that’s ok, Hoss, I’m not that hungry.” Joe took the remaining two hotcakes.

“Now what’s got you so cranky, Joe?” Adam asked. “Wake up on the wrong side of the floor?”

“Ha ha.” Joe made a face at his older brother before he dug into his food.

They ate in silence for a few moments then both Hoss and Adam looked up. Joe turned his head to see Jimmy standing at the edge of the kitchen.

“Any chance of a man getting something to eat around here?” he asked.

“Have a seat.” Adam said. “Hop Sing is making some more hotcakes.”

“Thanks.”

“How are you feeling?” Joe asked as Jimmy slid into a chair.

“Please, it’d take more than a bullet to slow me down. I’ll be fine as soon as I get some food in me.”

“So how did that happen anyway?” Adam asked casually. “I don’t think Joe told me.”

Joe shot Adam a dirty look, but Jimmy only laughed.

“That’s because I didn’t tell him. Some idiot thought I stole his horse.”

“And did you?”

“Adam!” Joe snapped.

“Not technically.” Jimmy grinned at Joe. “You never told me your brother was so…”

“Indelicate?” Joe gave Adam a withering glare.

Jimmy laughed. “Perceiving.” Hop Sing brought out a platter of hotcakes and an extra plate. As Jimmy took a few, he glanced up at Joe.

“So, after we’re done eating are you going to show me this ranch you’ve told me so much about?”

“Should you be riding?” Joe asked.

“I have a bad habit of ignoring doctor’s advice.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.” Adam muttered. Joe narrowed his eyes at him, and Hoss laughed.

“You’ll have to forgive these two, Jimmy. They’re like a couple of mountain goats, always butting heads.” Joe turned his glare from Adam to Hoss.

“I caught on to that.” Jimmy winked at Joe. “And I suppose you’re the one always trapped in the middle?”

“I’m the one that’s got to pull them off each other from time to time.” Hoss said. Now both Joe and Adam were giving him black looks.

“Well at least you’re built for it.” Jimmy said. “I grew up next door to a couple of brothers who were always down each other’s throats. They’d get to arguing and hollering at each other, and then their sister, little bit of a thing, would start hollering at them to shut up.” He grinned. “She could have used your height. But back to my original question, Joe?”

“I’ll go saddle up the horses while you finish eating.” He stood and then paused. He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave Jimmy alone with his ‘perceiving’ older brother. Then he turned and left. Hopefully Hoss would keep Adam civil.

~*~

“So, who’s this man who thinks you stole his horse?” Joe asked as they mounted up. He expected Jimmy to brush him off with one of his usual lighthearted comments, but instead Jimmy turned to him.

“I won’t lie to you, Joe, I’ve been in a bit of trouble since I saw you last. It’s a long story, one you don’t need to concern yourself with.”

“I just…”

“I know. You want to help, and sure, I probably owe you an explanation seeing as how much you’ve helped already. But it’s complicated, chico. And truth be told, I’d just as soon forget about it while I’m here.”

“Ok.” Joe thought of a couple of things Pa would say about trusting Jimmy like this, but he knew deep down his trust wouldn’t be betrayed. “How long are you staying?”

“Why? Getting tired of me already?”

“Hardly. But you seem to heal pretty fast…”

“Well, as much as I appreciate the medical expertise of that doctor of yours, I didn’t come here just because I had a bullet go through my side. I thought you’d want to show me around this ranch of yours.”

Joe’s face broke into a grin. “Alright then.”

They got back just before dinner. Joe wondered inwardly what Pa would say about him missing a whole day of work, but thankfully, Ben only remarked at how amazing it was that they’d managed to stay out all day in the cold January weather.

“Well, we had a lot to see.” Jimmy said. “This is a beautiful place you’ve got here Mr. Cartwright.”

“It’s getting there.” Ben answered.

Joe and Hoss looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Ben could never take a compliment about the Ponderosa without thinking of a dozen more improvements that needed to be made.

“We still have a lot of land to clear for pastureland.” Ben began. “At the moment though, we’re mostly biding our time until spring when we can start working at it.”

Adam cleared his throat, effectively cutting off his father. “So Joe tells me you’re quite the checkers player?”

“You might say that.”

Joe looked up, a slow smirk spreading over his face. He quickly wiped it away before Adam saw it.

“He was the best player at San Quentin.” He said.

“Really?”

Jimmy waved a hand. “There wasn’t much in the way of competition there.”

Joe narrowed his eyes at Jimmy. Since when was he this humble?

“Adam here is one of the best players in the Washoe area.” Hoss said. Joe inwardly cheered.

“Really?” Now Adam was studying Jimmy like he would a wild horse right before he climbed on to try to break it. Joe grinned.

“But I don’t think you could beat Jimmy, Adam.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” Adam’s eyes never flickered from his would be opponent, and now Jimmy had caught on to the spirit as well, and he met Adam’s eye.

“Care to try?” he asked.

Adam was instantly on his feet. “Only if you are.”

Ben looked up in time to catch Joe’s triumphant look. He shook his head at his son’s antics as they moved over to the living room.

“So you think this Jimmy can beat your brother?” he murmured.

Joe shrugged. “He taught me, and now I can beat him. Sometimes.” They crowded around the checkerboard as Jimmy and Adam settled into their positions on opposite sides.

“You can be red.” Adam said, but Jimmy shook his head.

“Please, you first.”

“Alright.”

Joe rested his head on his hand to hide his smirk. He knew what Jimmy was doing. Jimmy would rather sacrifice the first move in order to discover what kind of a player Adam was, so that he could get inside his opponent’s head.

They moved their pieces on silence. The fact that Jimmy wasn’t talking was a testimony to Adam’s skill as a player; Jimmy would always taunt and tease when he was easily winning. Clearly Adam was proving to be more of a challenge.

“Hey, Joe.” Hoss tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hmm?” Joe didn’t take his eyes off the checkerboard. Adam was setting a trap for Jimmy. Joe could have warned him that he was going to go down in smoke when it failed, but instead he just took pleasure in the thought of his older brother being beaten. It wasn’t often that someone came along who could whip Adam at checkers.

“You sure you don’t want me to sleep on the couch?” Hoss pulled him slightly to the side.

“Hoss, if I fell off the couch, do you think you’d have a chance of sleeping on it?”

Hoss shrugged. He had a point. “If you’re sure.”

He had something else to say. Joe sighed. “What?”

“It’s just… are you sure that Jimmy being here won’t… I don’t know, stir up memories?” Hoss’s brow was furrowed with concern. Joe gave his brother a bitter half smile. If only he knew that the memories couldn’t get any stronger if he was back in San Quentin right now. Actually, it was quite the opposite. Even though they hadn’t talked about the prison except to mention it briefly when sharing respective escape stories, somehow having someone there who knew the reason for what was going on in his head made Joe feel more at ease than he’d felt in a while.

“No, Hoss. It’s fine.” He said.

“How did you do that?” Adam asked from behind him. Joe grinned.

“Did he get you, big brother?”

Adam looked up at Joe. His face held a glare for a moment and then let it slide away into a rueful grin.

“Now I know where you learned all your skills.”

Joe shrugged.

“Well if you don’t mind…” in one motion Ben had shooed Adam out of the seat and slid into it. He started resetting the pieces, and Jimmy rubbed his hands together, eager for another shot at victory. Joe grinned at his friend.

“We Cartwright’s don’t take defeat very easily.” He told Jimmy.

“I’d been wondering where you got it from.”

~*~

Ben couldn’t beat Jimmy that night or the next, or even the next night when he and Adam teamed up against him. It was an endless source of entertainment to Joe and Hoss who got amusement from how seriously their Pa and older brother took the game.

“I don’t think they’ll let you leave until they beat you.” Joe told Jimmy after they had ridden out to Lake Tahoe one afternoon.

“Well, I guess I’d better let them win sometime then, if I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” He said. “You know, you really should have a better horse, chico. I could probably find you one in California. I know quite a few breeders.”

“Thanks, but I’m waiting for the right one to come along.”Joe shrugged as he felt a little childish admitting it. It still wasn’t enough to make him accept Jimmy’s offer though.

“You can try talking him into it though.” Adam stepped outside the barn, pitchfork in hand. “Pa sure has.”

“I get the feeling no one can talk anything into this one’s head.”

“True.”

Joe rolled his eyes and started to dismount. Just then a gunshot came out of nowhere, and Adam fell to the ground.

“Adam!” Joe was off his horse and at his brother’s side in a flash. Adam grimaced as he tried to sit up.

“Who’s shooting?” Adam’s tried to go for his gun, but he couldn’t move his arm. Blood began to seep into his shirt from his shoulder.

“Adam? Joe?” Ben called from the front door, which he held open a crack.

“We’re alright, Pa!” Joe called. “Adam took a hit in the shoulder, but he’s ok!”

“Easy for you to say.” Adam tried to sit up again, but Joe pushed him back down.

“We don’t know where he is, and next time he may not miss. Think you can get in the barn?”

“Try me.”

Joe half dragged half helped his brother crawl into the barn. Once there he shut the door almost all of the way and peered out.

“Can you see anyone, Pa?” he yelled.

“Not from this angle.” Ben answered.

Joe opened the door a little farther. It was risky going out there, but he didn’t want to give whoever had taken a shot at Adam try to escape. He started to slide out from the door. Where had Jimmy gone?

“Don’t move, Joe.” A familiar voice from outside the barn answered Joe’s unspoken question.

“Jimmy? Where are you?” Joe couldn’t see anything from the four inch wide crack in the door.

“On the other side of the barn. I see him; he’s got a clear shot at you if you move another couple of inches forward.” Jimmy’s voice remained low; Joe assumed it was so the gunman wouldn’t hear him.

Joe backed up, but curiosity made him stay near the door. His heart felt like it would hammer its way straight out of his chest. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself.

“Hey, Joe!” Hoss called from across the yard. “I’m gonna come out.”

Joe’s mind raced. If the gunman would have a shot at him, that meant he would have a shot at Hoss.

“Wait, Hoss!” he yelled.

“If he steps out the gunman will have to come out from the tree he’s behind to shoot. I can get a shot at him then.” Jimmy wasn’t asking him to do it, just telling him it was possible. If he wanted to risk his brother’s life. Joe glanced at Adam who nodded. There was no telling what the gunman would do if they couldn’t catch him, and quick. Joe couldn’t begin to express how glad he was that his older brother was there to make the decision for him. He poked his head out the door and inch.

“Ok, Hoss. But come slowly; he may still be out here.” Joe held his breath as the front door opened and Hoss stepped onto the porch. It was five steps to the end of the veranda. His heart pounded along with his brother’s feet. Hoss had a rifle in his hand, cocked and ready. Joe gulped. Why had he thought this was a good idea? He should have been the one to step out and draw their attacker’s fire; Hoss didn’t even know what he was getting into.

A gunshot rang out. Hoss dropped to the ground behind the porch railing.

“Joe?” he called out. Joe exhaled the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

“Did you get him?” he yelled to Jimmy.

The barn door was jerked open from the outside, and Joe nearly fell forward into the dirt.

“I got him.” Jimmy said. “Let’s get your brother inside.”

~*~

They waited downstairs while the doctor and Ben were in Adam’s room. Hoss kept dropping his fist on the table in a dull, rhythmic thumping, Jimmy say staring endlessly into the fire, and Joe couldn’t stop pacing. He turned every time Hoss thumped.

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” Joe said. “It looked like a clean shot.”

“How good of a look did you get?” Hoss asked.

“Not that good.” Joe admitted. Maybe it had been wishful thinking in the barn. Maybe Adam really had been hurt badly. He turned and walked toward the dining room. Five steps later he turned.

“How long have they been up there?”

“Couple of hours.” Hoss punctuated his answer with another thump.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Jimmy said. “The doc’s just taking his time pulling the slug out.”

Joe hoped he was right. After they had gotten inside he had turned around and dashed back out to the barn to ride for the doctor for the second time in four days. Then he had rode to get the sheriff and explain about the dead gunman, who Jimmy still hadn’t identified. Joe was burning with questions, but they all paled in comparison to the one that kept him pacing back and forth across the living room floor. Would Adam be alright?

At last Doc Travis came down, followed by Ben. The three in the living room all looked up; the question that they didn’t want to ask was unspoken in their eyes.

“He’ll be alright.” Ben said. There was a simultaneous exhale in relief.

“Just keep him quiet for several days.” Doc Travis paused before going out the door. “If that’s possible.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Ben promised. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Trust me, it’s always my pleasure when I can leave knowing my patient will recover. Sometimes it’s not such a happy tale.” he tipped his hat. “Have a good night.”

“Bye, Doc.” Hoss called.

Ben shut the door and turned around slowly. Joe felt like he wanted to sink through the floorboards, and he wasn’t even the recipient of Ben’s harsh gaze. Jimmy stood.

“You’ve assumed correctly if you think it’s me that man was after. He wasn’t that good of a shot; he must’ve missed and hit Adam.”

“And why was he shooting at you?” Ben’s voice was low, the type of low that Joe recognized as the trying not to yell tone. All the laughing had gone out of Jimmy’s eyes, and he met Ben’s with dead seriousness. Then he turned to Joe.

“You remember Juan Flores from prison, don’t you? Skinny little fella that was in for horse thieving?”

“Sure.” He was one of the ones who had persisted in keeping Joe’s eye permanently black for the first month he was there.

“After he got out, he and a few others hooked up with a man named Poncho Daniel. They wanted to defend Mexicans and end American oppression. I went along because I don’t like the way they treat my people, but some of the others weren’t quite so noble. Young men fresh out of prison who think they can’t get caught and have nothing to lose…” he shook his head. “I didn’t stick around long. Juan and I had a fight when I left, hence the man trying to kill me.” He held Ben’s eye steadily with genuine sympathy and regret.

“All I can say, Mr. Cartwright, is that I had no intention of bringing that man here. I thought he thought I was dead; I made sure he did. He wouldn’t have gotten a shot at me otherwise.”

“You let him shoot you?” Joe asked. Ben silenced him with a look.

“I let him shoot at me. I was the one that actually sent the bullet through my side. He didn’t know we were so close to your ranch. I wasn’t sure either, but I figured it was worth a shot – no pun intended. I let him take his shot, pulled the trigger on myself, and dragged my way here. I was only gonna stay for a few days. I guess he realized his mistake and came after me. I’m sorry.” He glanced at the stairs that led up to the room Adam was sleeping in. “Like I said, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ll go now.” He opened the door, and Joe was up in an instant to follow him outside. Ben considered going after him and then changed his mind.

“Well, at least this didn’t end as badly as it could have.” He said to his remaining son. Hoss nodded. It could have been a whole lot worse, and he knew that if anything permanent had happened to Adam, Jimmy wouldn’t be walking out of the house with such ease.

“Jimmy.” Joe jogged a couple of steps to catch up with the lanky man.

“You know, Joe, I don’t think your Pa likes me very much. ‘Course, I can’t say that I blame him.”

“Why was he trying to kill you?”

“Funny thing about Pas. Mine would have paid someone to do me in.” Jimmy leaned on the hitching post and continued as if he hadn’t heard Joe.

“Jimmy.” Joe snapped. “My Pa may not care what happens to you as long as you’re gone, but I do.”

“Yeah, that always was your problem, chico. You cared too much.”

“Will you answer my question?”

“Nope.” He lifted his finger and pointed out to the west. “Think your Pa would mind if I took a shortcut across his ranch?”

“Shortcut to where?”

“California.”

“You’re going back?”

“Gotta catch up with some old friends.”

“The ones that want you dead?” Joe demanded.

“Yep. And the first thing I’m gonna do is whack ‘em over the head for trying to kill me, the bastards. Then we’ll probably go to some cantina and get drunk.”

Joe fought to keep his rising impatience in check. “Why are you going back? I thought you said he was no good.”

“He is no good, and that’s why I’m going back. He’s got something of mine.”

“What?” Joe couldn’t imagine what could be so important.

Jimmy chuckled. “You’ll think I’m crazier than you do now. Alright, I’ll tell you. He’s got my horse.”

“A horse? You risked your life twice now and want to go back and risk it again for a horse?”

“Not just any horse.” Jimmy’s voice softened and took on a tone that Joe had never heard from him before. It was one of wonder and affection. “Fastest little thing on four legs; when he runs, he’s just a blur of black and white. And don’t think he doesn’t know it. I bought him from a man for fifteen dollars. Think of it! Fifteen dollars for a wonder like that. Said he couldn’t be tamed, and he was right. You don’t tame an animal like that; you learn to listen to him, and then he’ll learn to listen to you.”

As he spoke, an image came to Joe’s mind of the horse, galloping across the California desert with his tail flying behind him like a flag.

“What happened to him?”

“Juan liked what I’d done with the horse, so he took it. Then I took something too – a swing at him. He ain’t no fighter, but anyone can win when he’d got four or five people to back him up. He beat me pretty badly and left town. So I went after him.”

“What’d you go and do a thing like that for?”

Jimmy shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I caught up to him and tried to steal my horse back. Then he caught up to me. Quite the game we had going on, hey? Then he had one of his little followers run me off. I led him into the desert and tried to lose him, but I couldn’t. That’s when I decided to get rid of him and come here. Wonder how he figured out I was alive?”

Joe was caught between feeling sorry for Jimmy and wanting to hit him over the head for his stupidity. But, he decided, he probably would have done the same thing, minus the part about allowing himself to get shot.

“So now you’re going after him to get your horse back.” He said.

“Nope. Like I told you, it all started because we wanted to protect the Mexican people. But that Jose… he’s gotten a little too big for his hat. He needs to be stopped.”

Joe tried to fight down a rising urge that was pushing against his mind. Pa would kill me. He reasoned. If I didn’t get killed out in California. Plus despite his loyalty to Jimmy, he had to admit that the man wasn’t the most reliable. If it came down to it, he was pretty sure Jimmy would take care of himself first. It was the way he’d always lived. But still, his mind whispered at him. Jimmy couldn’t take down a whole gang of outlaws by himself.

Yes, because the odds of two against a hundred are so much better than the odds of one against a hundred. Joe had to grin. Here he was arguing against himself, and he’d already made up his mind.

“I’m going with you.”

“Nope.”

“Yes.”

“Joe, I think your Pa’s ready to lynch me as it is. I’d like to get off Cartwright property with my neck the same length as when I walked on to it.”

“You do realize that you can’t stop me.” Joe said.

“I can’t, but your Pa can.”

He had a point. Joe crossed his arms. “We’ll see about that.” he turned and went back inside. As he walked, he felt his resolve start to melt like a block of ice. He kept his arms crossed as he reentered the house.

“Is he gone?” Hoss asked.

“No. Not yet.” Joe tried to think of a good way to break the news and then decided that there wasn’t one. “He’s going back to California to take care of Flores… and I’m going with him.”

“What?” Ben had to have heard wrong. But Joe only nodded resolutely.

“Why?” Hoss asked.

“I owe him a lot.”

“Just because you feel like you owe someone doesn’t mean you have to go rushing off into the wilderness with them.” Never in a hundred years would Ben have seen this coming. Never in a thousand, a million. He looked at Hoss, who looked just as confused as he was.

“Pa, it’s just that… in prison, you rely on each other. Jimmy’s not just my friend; in some ways he’s my brother. And he needs help. Besides, I helped pull off the escape that let Flores out.” Joe struggled to make his father understand feelings that he couldn’t even comprehend himself. Finally he gave up. “I just have to go.”

Ben regarded his son in a moment of silence. A year ago he would have said no, and that would be the end of it. A year ago Joe had still been the baby of the family, Hoss and Adam’s kid brother, more boy than man. Now it was like he was talking to Adam or Hoss when they got it into their heads to do something he didn’t approve of but that they felt needed to be done. They would listen to him, take his advice into consideration, and then do what they felt they should, whether he agreed or not.

Ben sighed. The joys of having your children grow up. Well, if he couldn’t stop Joe from going, he could at least make sure he didn’t go alone.

~*~

“You three take care now.” Hoss said as they left the next morning. Ben could tell by the concern on his face and wistfulness in his tone that he wished he was going. In a way, Ben wished it as well. He would much rather face the Flores gang with his steadfast son at his side. But someone needed to stay and take care of Adam, as Ben had told Hoss the night before. Hoss had reluctantly admitted that his Pa was right.

“Don’t worry, Hoss. We’ll be back in a couple of weeks.” Joe told him. It was four or five day’s ride to southern California, where Flores had been heading. When Ben had asked how they were supposed to find him when they got there, Jimmy has simply said,

“We follow the trail of burnt wagons and dead bodied.”

It was a slightly sobering statement that didn’t make Ben feel any better about this crazy expedition. He’d been sorely tempted to try to talk Joe out of it one last time when they’d gotten up before dawn to saddle the horses, blowing on their hands in the cold. But then he’d changed his mind. Joe was an adult now; there was no denying it. He wouldn’t do him the insult of questioning his decision – at least not in this matter.

They rode in silence. Jimmy, who was usually the chatterer, sensed that Ben wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep if he didn’t come out of this alive and refrained from talking. He’d had enough of being on the receiving end of the elder Cartwright’s death glares, deserving or not. When they stopped to camp for the night, Joe was the first asleep, and Jimmy say up, staring at the mesmerizing flames of their cooking fire as they got smaller and smaller. The once sharp crackles had faded to slight snaps and the fire barely lit up the small clearing where they had camped. He heard Ben shift behind him, but he didn’t turn around.

“I know I’m not young anymore, but I would think this hard ground would be too much for anyone.” Ben sat up and joined Jimmy next to the fire. Jimmy took it as a peace offering and offered a slight grin, flashing his white teeth in the darkness.

“That one didn’t seem to have too much trouble.” he gestured towards where Joe lay motionless, oblivious to the world.

“Yes.” Ben didn’t mention how much of a relief it was to see Joe sound asleep. While his son didn’t admit it, Ben knew he’d been having trouble sleeping. “You know, Joe told me a bit about you from San Quentin. I wanted to thank you.”

Jimmy waved a hand. “You oughta be thanking yourself; you raised him. The way that kid handled himself in there…” he shook his head. “Put some grown men to shame.” After a pause, Jimmy glanced at Ben. “How much did he tell you?”

“Not a lot. Very few details. I gathered more from the nightmares he had.”

“Still having them?”

“Not that I know of.”

Jimmy nodded. “Well he’s got me beat then; I still wake up sweating, thinking I’m back in that dungeon.”

Ben studied the outlaw thoughtfully for several moments in silence. Despite his carefree demeanor, his eyes carried a darkness that he painfully recognized from the eyes of his youngest son.

“He didn’t tell me all that much about what happened there. I thought he just wanted to forget it, but I don’t think he has.” Ben finally said.

“No, he probably hasn’t.”

“I don’t know how to help him move on.” Ben admitted, both to himself and to Jimmy. “I guess it’s because I wasn’t there. I mean, I can imagine what it was like…”

“Actually, Mr. Cartwright, you can’t.” Jimmy interrupted Ben in a matter-of-fact tone. “You can try, but I doubt Joe’s told you enough to even begin to go on anything.”

“Alright.” Ben accepted the correction. “So tell me about it.”

Jimmy took a deep breath, and his eyes darted back and forth, as if he was looking for the words inside his head. Then, as he exhaled, he let out a short laugh. “I don’t even know where to begin. It was hell. People have told me I’ll never see heaven, but I know God can’t build a place worse than that. Our cell was underground, not a hundred feet long or wide, and there were twenty seven of us packed in there, sitting in our own waste.” As Jimmy spoke his eyes became more and more distant, as if he was seeing the prison again. “Rats didn’t even want to go there. Some say it was because of the smell, I say it was because there wasn’t any food. Men would lick crumbs off that filthy floor just for something extra. When the guards came in, we had to line up against the walls. If a man couldn’t stand up from hunger or exhaustion they would beat him until he couldn’t even lift his head. But he still had to go out to the quarry the next day like nothing had happened. The quarry is how San Quentin got started. Estell brought in prisoners from all over because he cut a deal for their labor. He got paid for our sweat and blood. We’d spend ten, twelve hours a day out there. You tell me how long a man can drag rocks for twelve hours a day every day on a few pieces of bread and one cup of water.”

Ben couldn’t answer. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

Jimmy took a deep breath as if to clear his thoughts. “I didn’t think your son would survive when he first got there. Nobody did. He wasn’t the youngest one to ever come, but it takes a hard man to survive in a place like that, and anyone could tell just by looking at him that he didn’t have that harshness in him. How could he? He hadn’t even done what he’d been sent there for. The only reason he was there was because he’d been on his own and easy to frame. First day there, his hands were so torn up from the pick I didn’t think he’d get through the second day. Newcomers, they always get picked on, beat up, food taken, things like that. He was quick on the uptake though, figured out how to avoid bothering people. That was my first hint he might make it.”

“He said you made sure he was in on the escape.”

“Yeah, I did. Lucky had been planning it for a while, and after Joe had been there for a few months, I thought he deserved a chance. After all, what was he in for? Being caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Plus I liked the kid. But Lucky wouldn’t go for it; he didn’t trust nobody. That’s when Kirk got sick.”

“Kirk?”

“One of Joe’s poker friends, a friend of mine too. It wasn’t too bad, but he needed a little extra boost, you know? I stole a couple of potatoes off the food cart to give to him. Thought the guards wouldn’t notice. But they did. They came storming in and started to beat Kirk. The condition he was in, he didn’t have a trout’s chance at a fish fry. Joe stepped forward and said he did it. I would like to say that I was right behind him, but I can’t. Self preservation’s a little too firmly pounded in my head for that.” Jimmy’s eyes returned to the present and he looked at Ben. “You’ve seen the scars on his back?”

“Yes.” Ben’s fists automatically clenched whenever he even thought of them.

“That’s where they’re from. I thought he was dead when Agnell finally quit, and then when he wasn’t I didn’t think he’d pull through. But he’s got some stubbornness in him. He saved Kirk’s life and mine. Kirk wouldn’t rat me out on purpose, but who knows what he would have screamed under that whip? So I told Lucky to count Joe in, that he’d proved himself.”

Ben was silent for a long time. He wished he could get at that guard, just once, and show him what it meant to be at the mercy of a stronger man. His mind returned to Joe, still a boy, taking a beating like that for another man. Fatherly pride welled up to join the anger and sadness swirling around in his chest. “He never told me that story.” He finally said.

“He probably thinks he still has to act tough. You know, you get out and you feel like an outsider. Part of you wants to forget and move on, but the other part can’t get over feeling like you have to keep fighting. It’s enough to drive a man mad.”

Ben looked over at his son’s unmoving form. His breathing was deep and even, revealing his body to be at rest, but who knew what was happening inside his mind?

“I just wish I knew what to do to help him.” he said in a low tone. Jimmy nodded sympathetically.

“Sometimes you can only do so much, and you have to let time do the rest.”

~*~

He had felt the darkness starting to pull him under and had somehow managed to pull himself out of it before the nightmare started. Now he lay in the darkness watching his breath drift up into the air and vaporize. He would have thought it would be warmer once they were a few days away from the Ponderosa. During the day it wasn’t so bad, but the temperatures had continued to dip at night, making it impossible for Joe to get back to sleep when he woke up. Not that he was complaining, but lying on the hard ground with a blanket wrapped around himself and shivering wasn’t his idea of a god time. He rolled over, trying to find a more comfortable spot.

“Couldn’t sleep either, chico?” Jimmy called softly. Joe sat up and scooted closer to him, the blanket still wrapped tightly around himself.

“No.” He sat next to the smoldering coals leftover from the fire and watched the red light shimmer and ripple inside them. It was like watching something underwater.

“Your Pa said you were through with nightmares.”

“Who said I had a nightmare?”

Jimmy gave him a rueful grin, one marked with a touch of bitterness. “Look who you’re talking to. I still jump and break into a sweat at the crack of a whip.”

“Nice to know this is normal.” Joe muttered.

Jimmy leaned forward. “It is, Joe. Six prisons, remember? And each one of them is burned right here.” he tapped the side of his head. “It never really goes away.”

“Great.”

“Why don’t you tell your Pa?”

“He doesn’t need to know; it only makes him worry.”

“Speaking as a man whose father only paid attention long enough to crack him over the head, I’d say having a family who worries about you isn’t the worst thing a man could be saddled with.”

“I should be able to handle this on my own.”

Jimmy shook his head. “No one should have to have been in that place. And no one should have to face the night alone. Even Juan Flores didn’t deserve to be there. Even Lucky, and he’d killed more men than the Spanish Inquisition.”

Joe crossed his arms and settled deeper in his blanket. The cold was helping to clear his head, both from sleep and from nightmares. He took several deep breaths, and Jimmy put a hand on his back.

“You’ve got everything going for you, chico, not like me. You’ve got a shot at going back to the life you left behind.”

“You think?” Joe had his doubts.

“Talk to your father. Or that obnoxious older brother of yours. Or the one bucking for Santa Claus.”

Joe grinned at the description of his family. “What life did you leave behind?” he asked.

“My life has been either prison or drifting, chico, ever since I was knee high. My Pa dragged me from town to town because the only way people would give him a job was if they didn’t know him. Once they found out he was a drunk, they canned him and we were on to the next place. I got sick of it, so I left when I was thirteen and ended up stuck in the same lifestyle, only without the booze. Then Poker Pete took me in, made me like his errand boy. You heard of him?”

“He was a con artist.”

“One of the best. Taught me everything he knew. My first prison was when I was fifteen, same as you. Maybe that’s why I liked you so much.” he shrugged. “I hadn’t done a thing except what Pete had told me. How was I supposed to know better? My next teacher was an old escape artist, and he took me with him when he escaped. But I didn’t stick with him. I’d learned pretty quickly that if you’re gonna do something against the law, you gotta be the one in charge, otherwise you just get screwed. By then I was so good at poker I could support myself even without cheating. Then one day I ran into a real good con, I mean he had it in the bag. Ripped people off left and right, took everything they had. Now I usually say, if you’re stupid enough to gamble everything against a man who clearly can’t lose, you deserve to lose it. But not him. He got under my skin with his arrogance. So I challenged him, caught him cheating, and decided to play dirty too.” Jimmy laughed as he relived the moment. “Beat him to pieces. Next day I was arrested. Prison number two, but it was worth it. Boy, was it worth it.”

“And the other prisons?” Joe asked.

“I know it’s hard for you to grasp, I mean, even with your time on the unsavory side of things, you still can’t really understand a man who lives his life on the other side of the law. Things just happen. You get a job doing what you know, you make a mistake, you get caught. That’s how prison number three happened. After I escaped from there, I had a price on my head. Apparently someone noticed that I was obtaining a record. Then it became the great chase. I’d be recognized, chased, caught, sent to prison, escape, and start it all over again. Quite the little game.”

Joe didn’t insult Jimmy by telling him he could change. Some things weren’t so simple.

Jimmy continued. “You know, for some people there’s right and wrong, and for some there’s dead and undead. That’s how it is for me.”

“Then why are you going back for Flores?” Joe asked. Jimmy shook his head.

“Because I’ve been around you too long and your do-gooder attitude rubbed off on me.” Jimmy gave him a playful shove. “Or because I might be a criminal, but at least I know the difference between cheating at cards to get a meal and killing a woman in cold blood because I like to hear the sound of my own gun.”

Joe nodded. Jimmy hadn’t told them that much about the havoc Juan Flores and his gang had wreaked on their way down through California, but what little he had sent chills up Joe’s spine. Massacres and burnings of farms and wagon parties left a trail of destruction in their wake as they made their way south.

“You know, if you ever get tired of drifting, you can always have a job on the Ponderosa.” Joe finally said.

“And what would I do on a ranch?” Jimmy asked through a smile. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but I hate cows.”

“I do too from time to time. Like during branding season. And when you’re trying to drive them somewhere and the darn things won’t go the right way.” Joe’s lips formed their own grin. Suddenly the night felt comforting rather than menacing, and he smothered a yawn. “Think I’ll risk another go at sleeping.” he said.

“Yeah? You’re a braver man than I am.”

“Or stupider.” Joe went back over to his bedroll and laid down with blanket still wrapped around him. He saw Jimmy’s silhouette stir the coals, sending a few stray sparks shooting in the air like fireflies. It was the last thing he saw before his eyes shut, sending him into dreamless sleep as deep as dark water.

~*~

The next day it was as if somebody had heard Joe complain about the cold and had decided to play some sort of cruel trick on him. He wiped the sweat off his fact for what seemed like the hundredth time as they rode and wished that he was back in Nevada dreaming of snow with Hoss.

“Nothing like Southern California, hey chico?” Jimmy called to him. “You watch, tomorrow it’ll be raining.”

“Too bad it’s not raining now.” Joe muttered. He wiped his face. Again.

“What’s that?” Ben pointed up ahead to what looked like a stage on its side. Joe felt a sudden sense of apprehension as they kicked their horses into a canter and rode toward the stage.

One of the wheels was broken off, and the side was bashed in. There were no signs of the horses.

“This looks like it’s been sitting here for at least a day.” Ben ran his finger along the stage and noted the trail it had left in the dust.

Joe walked around to the other side. “Pa.” he said. His voice was low. There was a man lying face down in the dust beside the stage with a bullet hole in his back.

“The driver?” Jimmy asked.

“Probably.” Ben said. “Is there anyone inside?”

Joe didn’t want to look, but he followed Jimmy as he peered in. Jimmy nodded.

“Three dead.”

“Who did this?” Joe asked.

“I’ve got a hunch.” Jimmy said tersely. Joe looked up at him. Jimmy’s face was hard, and his eyes glittered dangerously. Joe didn’t think he’d ever seen him so fierce.

“How close are we to the next town?” Ben asked.

“San Bernardino shouldn’t be more than five miles.” Jimmy answered. “We can get some help with the bodies.”

Ben nodded and stood. “Alright.”

Joe looked one last look at the wreckage. If Juan Flores had been the one to do this, he would have a few words to say to him when they met. With his fists. He kicked at a broken off wheel. Then he froze. A heart freezing rattling sound came from behind the canvas that had been tied on top of the stage. He didn’t turn his head, but he could just make out the scaly, diamond patched skin of a rattlesnake. His melt went as dry as cotton.

“Pa.” he could barely get the word out in a grated whisper. Ben looked up and saw Joe frozen in spot. Then he heard the rattling too.

“Where is it?”

“The canvas.” Joe’s lips moved, but he didn’t think the words went out. He tried to lick his lips with his heavy tongue. There was another rattle, and the snake sprang forward. Two gunshots echoed, and the snake fell in front of Joe, dead. He let out a quivering breath.

“Are you alright?” Ben stepped forward, and as he did so, the toe of his boot nudged the dead rattler.

“Watch it!” Jimmy snapped. He jumped forward, shooting again as the snake twitched and latched on to Ben’s leg. The shot made it fall to the ground again.

Joe grabbed onto his Pa. “Where did he get you?” he started to raise Ben’s pant leg.

“Let’s get away from him first.” Jimmy said. They moved a few steps away and sat down.

“Make a tourniquet.” Ben said. He felt lightheaded, but he was sure it was from adrenaline instead of the poison. He took a few deep breaths. The calmer he was, the slower the poison would get through his bloodstream. “That was stupid of me. I’ve seen enough people be bit by dead rattlers to know to be more careful.”

“Hindsight’s always perfect.” Jimmy grunted as he tightened the bandana he was tying just below Ben’s knee. Joe swallowed hard as he saw the purple swelling on his Pa’s leg get larger in front of his eyes.

“Got a knife, Mr. Cartwright?” Jimmy asked.

“Here.” Joe pulled out his own.

“Know what I’m gonna do?” Jimmy asked Ben. He nodded.

“Go ahead.”

Joe gripped his Pa’s hand as Jimmy slid the knife across the bite in an X. A thin line of blood trickled out behind the blade.

“I’d better go for a doctor in San Bernardino, we shouldn’t be more than a few miles out.” Jimmy said. He handed Joe back his knife. “Make a couple more cuts if I’m not back in a couple hours.”

“Right.” The knife felt heavier in Joe’s hand than it had when he’d given it to Jimmy. He swallowed hard. It wasn’t until after Jimmy had rode off that he realized he was still clamped on to his father’s hand. He felt no desire to let go.

“It’s alright, Joe.” Ben said. “I’ve been bit before. I’m still not sure why that one was here though; usually they hibernate at this time of year.”

“I guess he was too stupid.” Joe glared at the dead snake lying several feet away. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Ben lied. A churning in his stomach made him feel like he was going to throw up. Thankfully though, he didn’t feel as sick as when he’d been bitten several years ago. Hopefully the snake hadn’t injected that much venom into him.

“Do you want water?”

“I’m fine, Joe. I just need to sit here.” Ben leaned against the stage and closed his eyes. In truth, his son was probably more worried than he was. He’d seen enough snakebites over the years to know that his chances of survival were pretty good, as long as Jimmy got back here soon with a doctor to clean out the wound.

“You sure you’re ok?” Joe asked. His voice sounded small, like the little boy that he no longer was. Ben patted his arm with his free hand.

“Stop worrying. Worrying usually only makes things worse.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s easy to stop.”

“True.” Ben acknowledged his son’s point. After all, how many countless hours had he spent worrying this past summer with his youngest son gone? The only way to stop worrying sometimes was to keep yourself busy. Ben shifted into a more comfortable position.

“Joe, why don’t you start getting the passengers out. Wrap them up in that canvas.”

Joe hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave his Pa’s side.

“I’ll be alright, son. And sitting here won’t make much of a difference anyway.”

“Yes, sir.”

Joe pulled the canvas free of the stage, half expecting to see another rattlesnake. But all that came out of the canvas was dust, and he spread it out. Then he cut it into four strips. He lifted the driver and laid him on the first piece of canvas and then rolled it up. Joe cut a piece of rope from the stage and tied it shut. Then he went to pull the other passengers out.

The first was an old man in a suit. Joe wondered where he had been going dressed up so fancily. Maybe he was a business man or a lawyer. Did he have kids? Grandkids? Joe tried not to think too much as he pulled him out. When he’d finished wrapping the man up, he wiped his eyes. Dust. So much dust everywhere. Just like people; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Wasn’t that what the preacher always said when they buried someone?

“Joe.”

Joe looked up. “Something in my eye.” He muttered.

“Just leave them.”

“No. Someone has to do it. It might as well be someone who cares.”

He pulled out the other three passengers, both young men about the same age as Adam. He finished tying the last one and sat down next to his Pa. Ben put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

Joe had to clear his throat before he could speak. “People, they think they’re so tough. But they’re really not. It doesn’t take much, a bullet, a knife… then…” Joe trailed off miserably. He looked up at the cloudless sky and wondered what he was doing here. Ben’s hand tightened on his shoulder then it relaxed weakly. Joe glanced at his father. There was sweat on his face, not just from the sun, and his skin was pale, almost with a green tinge. Joe stopped himself from asking if he was alright. Pa would answer that he was fine even if he wasn’t.

The sound of horses made him jerk upright. He stood and used his hand to shield his eyes from the slowly sinking sun.

“Two riders.” He said.

Jimmy and the doctor reined in their horses in front of Ben and Joe.

“How is he?” Jimmy asked.

“I’m fine.” Ben answered for his son.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” The doctor crouched next to Ben and began to examine the wound.

“There’s a couple men coming behind with a wagon for you and them.” Jimmy told Ben. He gestured to the bodies that Joe had wrapped in canvas.

“Good.”

“You say this was about three hours ago?” the doctor said.

“Yes.” Joe and Jimmy said at the same time. Ben glanced at them, amused by their concern.

“How do you feel, sir?”

“A little nauseous. Slightly dizzy.”

“Define little and slightly.” The doctor said sternly. “Bravado is all well and good, but it doesn’t give me the information I need.”

Despite his worry Joe had to grin at seeing his father scolded like a school boy. Ben rolled his eyes slightly.

“Well I don’t feel like I’m going to throw up anymore. There’s a few black spots if I move my head too

 

suddenly.”

The doctor nodded. “That’d be the wagon.”

Joe listened and heard it too.

“Get them loaded while I get this partially cleaned. I’ll do a more thorough job in my office. You don’t mind riding in the back with the bodies?” he asked Ben.

“No.”

“Alright then. Young man, give him a hand.”

Joe was instantly at his Pa’s side, helping him up. Ben leaned on Joe and the doctor as he limped to the wagon. The driver nodded to Ben.

“Lew Craig.” He said.

“Ben Cartwright. This is my son Joe.”

“Well I’ll get you back to town in a snap, Mr. Cartwright.” He said.

“Thank you.” Ben settled on the back of the wagon next to the bodies. He was thankful that Joe had wrapped them in the canvas.

“Want me to ride with you?” Joe asked.

“I’ll be fine.” Ben said. “You and Jimmy get the horses.”

“Yes, sir.” Joe touched the doctor on the arm as the wagon rattled off. He hadn’t wanted to ask when Pa was there, but now that he was gone, Joe had to know.

“Will he be alright?” he held his breath as he waited for the answer. “He said he’d been bitten before, and he didn’t think it was too bad but…”

“I’m not worried about the bite.” the doctor answered. “There’s not enough swelling or discoloration for it to be too serious. I’m more concerned about infection setting in. The sooner I can give it a thorough cleaning the better.” he mounted. “Your friend can show you where my office is in town.” he galloped off.

“If you want to ride ahead you can, Joe.” Jimmy said. “My horse can’t handle another gallop right now.”

Joe was sorely tempted. He glanced at where the wagon was slowly getting smaller, worry resounding with every heartbeat. But he shook his head.

“I’ll stay with you. Worrying only makes things worse sometimes.”

~*~

When they reached the doctor’s office, he was in the back room with Ben. Joe and Jimmy waited in the front office for him to come out. Despite the doctor’s reassurance, Joe still couldn’t sit still. He stood up and walked toward the back room, but when he couldn’t hear anything, he sat back down. A second later he was up again. The fifth time he started to stand, Jimmy’s arm shot out and shoved him back down.

“I thought you said worrying makes things worse.” he said.

“Who am I kidding?” Joe muttered. He brushed Jimmy’s hand away and slumped down in his seat, arms crossed. “So you think Flores was responsible for that stage?” he asked in an attempt to distract his mind.

“Who else? And since it was recent they must be close.”

Joe studied Jimmy. He seemed lost in thought.

“Is there a plan for when we catch up with him?” he asked. “I mean, we don’t need maps and diagrams or a whole written out agenda or anything, but a general idea of what we’re doing would be nice.”

Jimmy laughed. “I’m pretty sure any plan would be so preposterous that it wouldn’t even be worth trying.”

“So you’re saying that this is so impossible that it’s not even worth planning out?”

“Pretty much.”

Joe couldn’t help but grin at his nonchalance; it reminded him so much of the conversations they’d had at San Quentin when his upbeat attitude had kept Joe from giving in no matter how bleak things had been. He rolled his eyes at Jimmy.

“You’re going to get us killed.”

Jimmy glanced at him, suddenly serious. “I think your Pa would have my hide. This isn’t your fight though, chico. I’m not gonna let you die in it.”

“Who’s to say it’s not my fight?” But Joe appreciated the comment nonetheless. He stood as the doctor came out, all lightheartedness evaporating like water. “How is he?”

“Sleeping. I gave him something for the pain and to help prevent infection, and it knocked him out.”

“Will he be alright?” His voice scratched its way out of his throat.

“He needs rest. I wouldn’t let him move until the day after tomorrow.”

Joe fingered his hat, the smooth fabric of it rubbing against his rough fingertips. “Can I see him?”

The doctor nodded and stepped aside.

“I’ll be out here, chico.” Jimmy said Joe nodded and went out back.

Ben’s chest was rising and falling under the cotton sheets, but his face was still pale. Joe stepped up close to the bed and took one of his Pa’s hands. They were the hands that had molded and shaped him as he was growing up, the hands that had shielded and protected him. Now they seemed so frail and cold. He had to clear his throat several times before he could speak.

“Doc says you’re gonna be fine, Pa. You just need some rest.” he exhaled. “Guess I didn’t realize how scared I was until I knew you were going to be fine. You rest up now. I’ll be back.” he waited a few more minutes, watching his father breathe. It was the only reassurance he had that his Pa would be alright. Finally he tore himself away.

“So he’ll be alright?” He asked the doctor. Somehow he needed to hear a straight, affirmative answer one more time.

“The bite isn’t the worst I’ve seen by far. But I’ve seen infection flare up too quickly to take any chances.” the doctor shrugged. “I’ll keep him here tonight and tomorrow, and he should be in the clear the next day.”

Joe took a deep breath. Clearly that was the straightest answer he was going to get. “Thank you.” he whispered.

The doctor clapped him on the back, all aloofness gone. “Your father’s a strong, healthy man. I don’t foresee any problems. I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Joe said again.

When he and Jimmy stepped out of the doctor’s office, Joe noticed for the first time that they were the only people in the street. He looked around confusedly. It had been like this when they’d rode in, he just hadn’t been paying enough attention to realize it.

“Was it like this when you got here earlier?” he asked Jimmy.

Jimmy was looking up and down the street as well, trying to place the desolate feeling that was in the air. “I didn’t notice at the time, but yes.”

Joe took one more look around. “Think that Craig fella took the bodies to the sheriff’s office?”

“He said he was. Guess we should go on over there.” Jimmy led the way down the deserted street. Joe felt like a deer in the open, waiting for a hunter to take his shot. His head swiveled on his neck as they walked and he tried to peer down the side streets and into shuttered windows. The houses and shops stared back at him blindly, wondering why they were here. There was a suspicion and wariness in the air that made his skin crawl. He resisted the urge to glance behind himself.

“Think they’re all scared Flores will come here?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Jimmy answered.

The wagon was outside the sheriff’s office, and Craig was inside with the tall, wiry sheriff. As soon as Craig noticed the two enter, he introduced them.

“Robert Clift.” The sheriff held out his hand. “I’m assuming you two are the ones that found the stage?” His voice was tinged with an accent that Joe recognized as British.

“Yes, sir.” Joe said.

Sheriff Clift leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “Tragic. That stage runs through to Los Angeles. I wired the sheriff there to see about identification.”

“Who do you think did it?” Jimmy asked. Joe glanced at him, surprised. After all, they knew who did it. Jimmy probably just wanted to see how much the sheriff knew.

“Las Manilas.” Clift’s lips curled as if the word tasted bitter.

“Las Manilas?”

“The Handcuffs.” Jimmy translated. “Flores’s band.”

“You know about Flores?” Clift leaned forward suspiciously.

“I have a score to settle with him.” Jimmy said. The look in his eyes dared the sheriff to interfere.

“I would steer clear of that gang if I were you. Mean as snakes.”

“We already had a run in with a snake; I think we can handle it.” Joe said.

Clift shrugged. “Just keep going south then. Word has it they’re holed up in San Juan Capistrano. Barton, the sheriff in Los Angeles is rounding up some men to go down there and get them, but if you want to get yourself killed first, I’m not stopping you.”

“Thanks.” Jimmy turned to leave with Joe trailing after him.

“We’re not going down there now, are we?”

“I am. I understand if you don’t want to.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Joe snapped. “You know I’m with you every step of the way. But what about my Pa?”

“I can’t wait, chico. If the sheriff and his posse get down there, they’ll either scare them away or get themselves killed. I’m going after my horse, and I want the chance to knock some sense into Juan before any lawman gets his hands on him.” As he spoke, Jimmy kept walking, his long legs settling into a ground covering stride that Joe had a hard time keeping up with.

“I’ll go too then.” Joe said.

“What about your Pa?”

“Oh, he’ll probably kill me.”

“No, chico, he’ll probably kill me.”

“Maybe you’ll be lucky and Flores will do it for him.” Joe grinned. Sure they were throwing caution to the wind, but it was the moment of the hunt when the hound catches sight of its prey and nothing can keep it from barreling after it. Joe could almost taste the end of the chase.

Jimmy laughed. “Go tell the doctor to tell your Pa where we’re going when he wakes up, so he can find us to kill us both. I’ll get our horses.”

~*~

Ben had woken up during the night, but since there hadn’t been anyone around, he went back to sleep until the doctor came in the next morning.

“Well, how are you feeling?” he asked.

“Much better.” Ben answered.

“Hmm.” The doctor checked Ben’s leg. “Almost no swelling at all. Well, no reason for you to stay here. But I would still take it easy.”

“Thank you.” Ben stood and reached for his boots. “You don’t happen to know where my son is staying, do you?”

“He and the other fella left town.”

“What?” Ben wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly, but the doctor nodded.

“They came back yesterday and said they were going on and that they’d be back. Your son said to check with the sheriff if you had any questions.”

Ben pulled on his boot with a firm jerk and stood. “I’ll do just that.” He said through tight lips.

“You remember what I said about taking it easy now!” the doctor called. Ben didn’t answer as the door slammed behind him.

~*~

“And you just let them leave?” Ben demanded after the Sheriff had told him everything he’d told Jimmy and Joe.

“Was I supposed to stop them?” Sheriff Clift snapped.

“No.” Ben exhaled slowly. He should have known they would do something stupid like running off after murdering bandits alone. Ben inwardly cursed the snake that had caused him to be left behind. “How far is it to San Juan Capistrano?”

“About sixty miles.” The sheriff studied him for a minute, all hostility gone. “But if you’re planning on going after them, you’ll just die with them.”

“And what do you suggest?” Ben asked in a dangerous tone. “Leave my son to be killed?”

“Hardly.” Clift raised a piece of paper in the air. “I would suggest not going alone.”

Ben glanced at the paper. It was a telegram from another sheriff.

“Who is this James Barton?” he asked.

“The sheriff of Los Angeles.”

“And he’s asking for help in capturing Las Manilas?” Ben couldn’t see what this had to do with him.

“Las Manilas. The Flores gang. This came in this morning. I can’t go; I’ve got a bum ankle from a runaway horse, but I’m sending my deputy, and if you want you can ride along with him.”

Ben didn’t need to think about it. “When is he leaving?”

“About an hour.”

“I’ll go.”

~*~

They rode into San Juan Capistrano at noon the next day. If San Bernardino had been empty, this town was deserted. Even the birds seemed afraid to make noise. Broken down doors and windows met their gaze with mournful expressions.

“This town’s been ravaged.” Joe murmured, appalled at the destruction.

“Yeah, but where’s Flores?” Jimmy muttered. His hand clenched onto his gun and his gaze swept back and forth restlessly.

“Where is everybody?” Joe’s voice unconsciously got quieter. The stillness of the town made him want to whisper.

“This way.” Jimmy reined in his horse in front of the saloon and dismounted. Joe followed suit, and they entered through the one swinging door that was left hanging. Glass crunched under Joe’s feet as he walked inside. Tables were turned over, and bottles littered the floor. Stains from dried liquor had soaked into the wood of the floorboards.

Joe looked at Jimmy and shrugged. “Hello?” he called.

“We’re closed.” A voice came from out back. Joe and Jimmy pushed past a couple of busted up chairs.

“We don’t want a drink; we want to talk.” Jimmy said. A short man that reminded Joe of a chubby field mouse stood shaking before them.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble. Can’t you see I’ve got nothing left?”

“I just want some information.” Jimmy said. The sound of a rifle being cocked made them both freeze.

“He told you we were closed.” A distinctively female voice said. Joe and Jimmy slowly turned to see a woman in a dark pink dress with her blonde hair piled on top of her head. Her creamy skin was pale, but her eyes didn’t waver as she pointed the gun at them. “I suggest you leave.”

“Ma’am, I’ve had guns pointed at me by a lot more dangerous folks than you.” Jimmy said.

The gun went off, and Jimmy and Joe jumped. The saloon girl cocked the gun again. “I’m not gonna ask you twice.” She said.

“We’re looking for Juan Flores.” Joe said.

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“To kill him.” Jimmy said.

“Why should I believe you?” But Joe saw her lower the gun slightly.

“Do you know which way they went?” Joe asked.

She took a deep breath and put the gun down. “Back north. A man rode into to town yesterday, one of their gang members, and said that some sheriff in Los Angeles is forming a posse, so they went up to meet them.”

Joe and Jimmy exchanged glances. If Flores knew about the Posse, it could spell trouble for them.

“Thank you.” Jimmy tipped his hat and they left the saloon. As they exited, Jimmy turned back.

“Watch who you point that thing at now, missy. Maybe when I’ve killed Juan Flores, I’ll come back and buy you a drink.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “If he doesn’t kill you.”

“Come on.” Joe pulled Jimmy along. “You can flirt later.”

“There’s something you should know about girls, chico. Take advantage of the time you have with them.” Jimmy mounted. “You wanted a plan?”

“Why, do you have one?”

“We go warn the posse.”

“We’ll never get there first; it’s impossible.”

“Another thing you should learn: there’s impossible, improbable, and a whole lot of in between.” He kicked his horse forward.

~*~

Ben and the deputy, Calvin Hardy, met up with the Posse near the Chino Hills led by Sheriff James Barton. He was a man of military bearing, and Ben instantly liked him. By that time the sun was setting, but they rode straight through the night until they reached Rancho San Joaquin, a ranch owned by Jose Sepulveda, his friend and one of California’s dons. The man welcomed them to the Refugio, the main house. They left their guns in one of the outbuildings and went into the dining room for breakfast.

“Something tells me that you didn’t come all the way out here on a social call, my friend.” He said to Barton when they sat down.

“True. We’re going after Las Manilas.” Barton said.

Don Sepulveda murmured something in Spanish. “There are almost sixty men following Flores and Daniel.” He said. “And you go to fight them with eight?”

“This is the most men I could get on such short notice.” Barton said. “They don’t know we’re coming, so we’ll have surprise on our side.”

Don Sepulveda looked concerned, but he didn’t say anything else. Despite how hungry he was and the deliciousness of the food, Ben resisted the urge to wolf down his breakfast and then continue on his own. There was a better chance in numbers, he knew, but he didn’t like the thought of Joe facing down almost sixty men with just Jimmy at his side. He tried to distract his mind by looking around at the various paintings on the wall, all of them obviously Spanish inspired. As his eyes flitted back and forth, he noticed a door open a few inches and a young girl, maybe seventeen or eighteen, peering through the crack. She caught his eye, and he smiled, but her face remained hard. Then she turned and left.

1.  Ben thought.

Finally Barton stood.

“Thank you, my friend. But now we have work to do.”

“Be careful, amigo. I wish you would turn back.”

Barton clasped his hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They got their guns and rode out. Not fast enough for Ben, but he knew they still had a ways to go. Barton seemed to sense his impatience.

“Worried about your son, Mr. Cartwright?”

“Do you have children?” Ben asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I suppose you know the answer to that question.”

Barton smiled. “Well, if the son is as determined as his father, I don’t think you have much to worry about.”

Ben shook his head. Barton’s words didn’t make him feel better. “He’s determined alright, but he’s got a knack for finding trouble.”

“We’ll be there soon.” Barton said.

They rode for about twelve miles and were passing through a small canyon. Then the gunshots started. The horses started in fright, and one man fell off. The others leaped free of their horses and pulled out their guns. Ben caught sight of one of the shooters, raised his gun, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He tried again. Once again, in the place of a shot ringing out, there was only a metallic click. Ben checked for bullets. None. How was that possible? Then he realized that no one else in the group had done any shooting either. A slow, sickening feeling wormed its way into Ben’s stomach. They were in trouble.

 

~*~

“Hear that?” Jimmy said. They stopped their horses and listened.

Gunshots. Joe spurred his horse forward. They galloped up over the ridge. When they looked down, Joe felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach by a horse. Flores’s men were circled a little lower than them and had a small canyon surrounded. Inside the canyon were eight men seeking shelter in the rocks.

Why don’t they fire? Joe wondered. Then his stomach lurched as he recognized one of the men.

“Pa.” the word was out of his mouth and he was off his horse and scrabbling down the rocks. He barely heard Jimmy call after him. All of his attention was focused on getting to his father before a stray bullet took him down. He scooted behind a rock about thirty feet from Ben.

“Pa!” he yelled. He doubted any of Flores’s men would hear him above the noise of gunfire, and hopefully the angle of the rock would keep him from being spotted.

Ben looked up, shocked to hear Joe’s voice.

“Come on!” Joe raised his gun to cover his Pa as he ran toward the rock.

“What are you doing here?” Ben asked.

“I could ask you the same question.” Joe muttered. He let off another couple of shots and they backed up out of the canyon. Jimmy leaped down beside them.

“Hold it.” He said before Joe sent out another shot. Silence echoed in the canyon. Four dead men lay beneath them; the other three had managed to escape, though whether they would actually manage to get completely away was still in question. Joe lowered his gun.

“We’ve got to get out of here.”

“They’ll know someone was shooting from over here. You didn’t hit anyone, did you Joe?” Jimmy asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

“What’s your plan?” Ben asked. Joe glanced at his Pa. Since when did his Pa trust Jimmy?

“The men who escaped will come back with a posse, but by then the trail will be gone. Unless someone goes along with Las Manilas to make sure there’s a trail.”

“Jimmy…” Joe started, but Jimmy cut him off.

“You two stay here and make sure the posse knows not to kill everyone in the gang and to tell them to look for my signs.”

“Jimmy…”

“Sorry, chico. No time.”

“Whoever’s behind the rock, throw out your gun and come out!” a voice called.

Jimmy shrugged. “They know me. I’ll be alright.” He tossed out his gun and stepped forward. “You got me, Tibs.”

“Who’s the other fella back there with you, Jimmy?”

Jimmy hesitated, and Ben grabbed Joe’s arm. “I’ll go. You stay here and stick to the plan.”

Joe’s mind raced wildly. He wouldn’t bet a cent on his father’s life if he stepped out of the rocks. They would instantly know he wasn’t an outlaw. But they might recognize Joe from San Quentin. He didn’t think Pa would agree to his plan though.

“You’re gonna want to kill me, Pa.” he muttered. Then he flipped his gun around in his hand and hit his father over the back of the head. Ben dropped to the dust, and Joe reached into his pocket for the pencil and paper his father always kept. He wrote four words and crumpled it into Ben’s hand before he tossed his gun out and joined Jimmy with his hands up.

“Hi, Tibs.” The young man had been jumpy and short tempered in prison, but hopefully he would wait for his leader’s orders before shooting.

“Cartwright. Never reckoned I’d see you again. What are you two doing here? Helping the sheriff?” his hand tensed on his gun.

Jimmy let out a laugh. “Please, Tibs. I thought I’d come save the day.” From anyone else, it would have seemed ludicrous, but Tibs regarded Jimmy with careful consideration.

“Then why were you shooting?”

“You started it; I was just trying to help out. Now are you gonna take us to Juan?”

Tibs looked from Jimmy to Joe and then back to Jimmy. Then he shrugged.

“Guess he can shoot you just as well as I can. Come on.”

“Very reassuring.” Joe muttered to Jimmy.

Jimmy shrugged. “We can run if you want. He may not be too thrilled to see an outsider.”

“And then they’ll escape.” Joe shook his head. “I’m staying put.”

Jimmy clapped him on the back. “It was nice knowing you.”

Tibs led them up to the top of the ridge where Flores was with several other men, some of whom Joe recognized. As he looked at the leader of the gang that had caused so much destruction, he realized that he’d forgotten how young he was – probably not five years older than him. But his eyes carried a hatred that made him seem much older.

“Now that’s funny, Jimmy. I thought you were dead.” Flores said. He eyes the two prisoners.

“Yeah, I have a bone to pick with you about that.” Jimmy said.

“So is that why you came back?”

“I came back for my horse.”

Flores nodded to Joe. “What’s he doing here?”

“We’re partners now.”

“Really.” Joe could tell Flores didn’t believe them. The eyes of his men were on them like a pack of wolves eyeing a wounded doe. He tried to relax and not look nervous. Chances were they could sense it.

“You’ve landed yourself in quite the trouble though, haven’t you? How about we work out a deal?” Jimmy continued.

“You mean you come up with some reason for me not to kill you?”

“You already tried killing me and it didn’t work out so well.” Jimmy said. Flores stepped forward and

 

cocked his gun. He pressed it up against the side of Jimmy’s head.

“I think my odds are a little better this time.” He hissed.

“You know I know this country like the back of my hand. Can any of your men say the same?”

Flores’s eyes narrowed, and Joe knew they couldn’t. His hopes rose. Maybe they would have a chance.

“I didn’t think so.” Jimmy continued. “So, I show you your way through these mountains where any posse won’t find you. In exchange, I get my horse.”

“No.”

Joe’s stomach dropped. But Flores continued.

“Unless you prefer your horse to your life.” He said. “Because that’s what I’m offering. Both of your lives.”

Joe looked at Jimmy and shrugged. Now that Flores had played into their hand, he’d stopped sweating quite so much.

“I don’t think we could get a better offer for your expertise.” He said.

Jimmy laughed. “You think so? A lot of people have called me worthless; I’m not sure we’re getting the better end of the deal. But maybe you’re worth more than me. Alright, Juan.” He held out a hand, but Flores ignored it and reholstered his gun.

“How’s my horse?” Jimmy asked. Joe could have smacked him for pushing the issue. A horse was all well and good, but it wasn’t exactly worth their lives.

“Your horse? I bought it from you, didn’t I?” Flores pretended to be confused.

“Did you? Funny, I don’t remember being paid.”

“Sure I paid you; I gave you a bloody lip. Isn’t that the way things work?”

Jimmy tipped his head back in a laugh and then as he brought his gaze back to Flores, he swung his fist at him. Instantly more than a dozen guns were cocked and aimed at Jimmy and Joe. But Flores waved a hand as he stood up from the ground.

“So now that I’ve repaid you can I have my horse back?” Jimmy asked.

Flores laughed. “Not yet. But you get me through this country and into Mexico, and I’ll consider reselling him to you.”

“Another bloody lip?” Jimmy asked eagerly.

Flores spit out some blood. “I’ll think of something.”

~*~

They mounted and rode with Jimmy leading the way. Joe fell in near the end. For the first few hours no one talked to him, which he was perfectly happy with, but then Flores pulled his horse alongside Joe’s. Joe swallowed bile that rose in his throat as the stench of prison seemed to waft off of Flores toward him. Images came to him of being held down while Flores had practiced his hay maker on him. The worst part had been knowing better than to fight back. And now, as much as Joe wanted to slam his fist up Flores’s nose until he heard the cartilage crack, it looked he was going to have to play by his rules again. Flores gave him a condescending smile, and Joe gave it back to him, laced with sarcasm.

“So, Cartwright, having a good time?”

“I didn’t realize this trip was for recreational purposes.” Joe said. “Stupid assumption. Why else would we be riding through barren rock with a posse in pursuit?”

“Sure.” Flores’s eyes narrowed. “Why else? And why else would you partner up with Jimmy?”

“So that’s what’s on your mind.” Joe said. Several lies eagerly leaped into his head, but he paused. Sometimes the best lie was the truth, or at least part of it. Flores thought he was a spoiled rich kid; maybe Joe could use that to his advantage.

“Jimmy came to my ranch after he’d been mysteriously shot. You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you? Didn’t think so.” Joe didn’t give him a chance to answer. “He stuck around for a few days and then when he went to leave, I asked if I could go with him.”

“Why?” Flores demanded.

Joe shrugged. “The ranch… it was who I was before prison, not after it. I guess you can’t go back, you know? So when Jimmy said he was coming back to get his horse and them moving on down to Mexico, I told him I’d come along.” Joe glared at Jimmy, suddenly taking a defensive stance. “Does that satisfy you, Flores? Or do you want to shoot me now?”

Flores shook his head. Joe hated how he always seemed on top, like a cat walking a wire.  He leered over at Joe. “See, Cartwright, Jimmy’s a rogue. Always has been, always will be. Not much to read there. I expected him to come back, if only for his horse and one last punch. Not you though. You’re cut from a different cloth. I just wanted to make sure you were on the right side and stayed there.” he leaned closer to Joe, his eyes dark under the shadow of his hat. “Because if you cross me, I’ll make the beatings at San Quentin seem like a massage.”

“Don’t worry about me, Flores. I couldn’t care less if they stretched your neck, but Jimmy and I are partners, and he’s tied up with you. Guess you’re lucky.”

Flores regarded him for a minute, and then squeezed his legs around his horse. Joe resisted the urge to shudder as he rode away.

So you think Jimmy’s nothing but a scoundrel and I’m just a kid tagging along? Joe narrowed his eyes as he watched Flores’s black vest mingle amid the other riders.

“Just keep thinking that, Flores.” he muttered.

~*~

Ben’s first sensation was a pounding in his head. He raised his hand automatically and felt a paper in it. When he glanced at it, full memory came flooding back.

STICK TO THE PLAN

Ben crushed the paper and let it drop, cursing inwardly. That boy would be chopping wood for a year once they got back to the Ponderosa. If they got back. Ben glanced down at the canyon, but it was deserted. He had to have been out for hours; the gang would be long gone by now. Ben had to grudgingly admit to himself that there was nothing for him to do except what Joe had told him. Stick to the plan.

~*~

They rode until even Jimmy couldn’t find his way through the rocks in the darkness. As they unsaddled their horses, Jimmy nudged Joe.

“I left a couple of clues on the trail. Tomorrow it’s your turn.”

Joe nodded. He was going to say something, but then he saw that Jimmy’s eyes were focused on something else. He turned and saw why. Flores had unsaddled his horse and tied him along the picket line with all the others, but his horse stood out. Jimmy dropped his saddle and approached the black and white pinto.

“Didn’t think you’d see me again, did you friend?” he murmured. The horse nickered at his voice, and Joe smiled.

“Come here, Joe, let me introduce you.” Jimmy beckoned to Joe.

Joe stepped next to the horse as Jimmy ran his hands down its legs and side.

“He’s young.” Joe said.

“Four years old. A little small, but he’ll fill out.” Jimmy couldn’t take his eyes or hands off the horse, and Joe could see why. The animal was put together compactly, giving the impression of power, and his slight build showed that he could run with the best of them. Once he filled out a little, Joe figured he’d be even flashier. When he looked in his eyes, he was shocked by the intelligence there.

“Now you see why I couldn’t leave him behind?” Jimmy said.

“Yeah.” Joe could see it. He didn’t think he’d have been able to either. The horse studied him curiously and nibbled at Joe’s hand. Joe reached up and scratched his poll. Instantly the horse turned his head to the side and wiggled his lips.

“Now don’t you go turning my horse against me.” Jimmy said.

Joe grinned and went back to get his saddle. He gave his horse an extra pat out of obligation. After all, it wasn’t his fault he wasn’t a flashy paint. Then he found a spot a little distance away from the rest of the gang and leaned his head against his saddle. Instantly he thought of Pa.

He’ll probably be awake by now. He thought. Awake and madder than a wet hen. Joe wasn’t looking forward to the conversation they would have when they met up again. But he was anxious to get home. Even though the stars were the same, they seemed strange and different somehow, and he missed his bed and the scent of Ponderosa pines burning in the fireplace.

When he fell asleep, Flores was waiting for him. Joe jerked sideways as a kick landed in his ribs. He heard a sickening snap. The kick was followed by another, and another. His mind raged at him to get up, to hit back, even to try to shield himself from the blows, but he was frozen in place. The only thing he could do was writhe on the floor. As Flores kicked him again, he rolled over onto his stomach. Blood came out of his mouth, staining the rotted straw. He couldn’t breathe, but somehow he managed to yell. Flores only laughed and picked him up by his hair. As he held him up, it felt like Joe’s entire scalp was going to tear free from his head. His arms wouldn’t move to pull away, and his legs were limp as rags beneath him. Flores grinned and cocked his gun. The barrel poked into Joe’s broken ribs, causing him to gasp painfully. The gun exploded.

Joe opened his eyes. The stars grinned above him, welcoming him back to life. He glared at them. What did they know about fear and darkness, perpetual balls of light that they were? He rubbed his eyes, got up, and stretched. Maybe it wasn’t the best thing; after all if any of the others caught him drifting around in the dark, it probably would end with a bullet in his brain, but he needed to shake off the dream.

A horse nickered as he ducked under the picket line, and Joe followed the sound to Jimmy’s paint, who nickered again.

“Lonely, little fella?” Joe murmured. He ran his fingers over the horse’s fine hair; the white patches were almost luminous in the dim light of the moon. “I guess you’d rather be running out over the fields up north than here tied to a picket line.” He leaned against the horse and inhaled. The scent of horse was a familiar comfort, and he felt the leftover tension inside his chest melt away.

“You are something special.” he mumbled, his eyes closed. Instead of moving away from the weight of his body, the horse leaned against him as a support and turned his head around to sniff Joe’s arm. His whiskery nose traveled up along his shoulder to his face, and he blew out gently. The hot breath was like a summer sun. Joe blew back as he stroked his neck.

“Tell Jimmy to give you a name though.” he said. The horse’s lips nibbled at his nose, and Joe blew out again. The horse lifted his head and curled his upper lip.

“So you think my breath smells bad?” Joe laughed. “You ain’t smelled noting yet, kid. Try twenty seven men living in a one hundred square foot room and only three buckets between them. You got used to the smell though.” he continued to rub his hand down the horse’s sleek neck as he spoke; the words that he’d been holding back flowed from his mouth as soft and murmuring as a stream.

“You get used to a lot, you know. Smell, aches and pains in muscles you didn’t even know you had, hunger. There’s not much you can’t get used to. If it had been just that, I think I’d be alright now, you know? But it wasn’t just that. It was…” Joe paused, trying to figure out how to vocalize the knot of emotions that was deep inside his chest. “The way they beat you down, it made you feel like you were an animal. Like you didn’t have any worth. When someone died, they just burned the body and threw someone else in the cell to replace them. Just like they’d broken a window. And when they would whip you, it was like they were beating down a dog that couldn’t even defend itself. You just had to take it. There were all these voices inside my head. They told me I was nothing, that it was pointless to try to be different. That I should just give in and become like everyone else. After a while you lose track of the real world. That’s another thing the voices said: There is no Ponderosa, no home, no Pa or Adam or Hoss. Just me and the men around me, trying to scrape survival out of filth and rock.”

The horse rubbed his head against Joe, and Joe obliged him by scratching his ears. His cheeks felt wet, to his surprise, but he made no move to wipe away the tears. He hadn’t cried since San Quentin, and the horse didn’t seem to mind his fur soaking up Joe’s tears. He leaned into the groove where the horse’s neck and shoulder met and closed his eyes against its mane.

“I guess I built up a wall to protect myself, only now it’s hurting me.” he said at last. “You know, I haven’t told this to anyone else. Not even Pa or Hoss. You must be a great listener.”

The horse tossed his head, probably because Joe had rubbed too hard, but Joe preferred to think that he had understood and knew it quite well.

“So what do you suggest I do then, show off?” he asked. The horse just stared at him with deep brown eyes.

“Thanks, but I think I’ve done nothing long enough.” Joe thought for a moment. Here he was, surrounded by several of his prison mates, most of whom had taken a swing at him when he couldn’t hit back. Now things were different. A small smirk crept onto Joe’s face. It was time to see how they liked beating up on him when he could hit back.

~*~

He didn’t get a chance to put his plan into action until they stopped for the night the next day. By then the sun was already halfway behind the horizon of mountains before them. They were surrounded by barren rock the color of sand. Joe wondered if there was anything that would be able to grow there and just what Flores was planning on doing for food.

He looked around at the ragtag band that had followed Flores on this crazy idea of a mission. The San Quentin gang stuck close together like a herd of cows with their horns pointing out, and Joe eyed them, trying to decide who to take down. If he got one, he could get them all; it was just a matter of which one he wanted to start with. His eye stopped on a small man who looked to be in his early thirties. His name came unbidden to Joe’s mind. Soyez. He was a man with a powerful punch, but as slow as dripping honey. Joe nodded to himself. He would do the trick.

“So long ride today.” Joe sidled up next to him as Soyez swung his saddle down.

Soyez grunted, probably wondering why Joe was speaking to him.

“Say, I wanted to tell you, no hard feelings about San Qunetin.”

“What?” Soyez glared at him.

“Yeah. I mean, you guys beat up on me quite a bit, but it’s not like you even did much of the beating. Every time I saw you, you were hanging out in the back of the crowd. I don’t think you ever even hit me. So thanks.” Joe held out his hand, trying not to grin at the thunder that was building up in Soyez’ face.

“Who says I didn’t hit you?” he snarled.

“Well, I mean come on, you probably couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn if it was being held down. But it worked out in my favor, right?” a fist broke off Joe’s feigned nervous chuckle. He tottered backwards.

“Care to run that by me again?” Soyez growled.

“I’ll run something else by you.” Joe leaped forward, arm swinging. In a few punches, he had Soyez on the ground, but then he felt arms trying to pull him off.

Let the fun begin. Joe turned and sent a fist into the face of the man behind him. It was like an explosion. Suddenly there were fists everywhere, all intent on knocking him down. Joe barely felt them through the adrenaline pounding through his body. He’d knock a man down and have him replaced by two others, but he managed to stay on his feet. As he kept moving he didn’t even notice any of the blows raining down in him. All he knew was the glorious smack of his fist striking flesh every time he swung. A sudden gunshot brought them all to an instant attention. Joe stood, unable to keep a cheeky grin off his face despite the deathly glare on Flores’s.

“What the hell is this?” Flores snapped. Joe glanced sideways at the cowering gang members. He straightened and met Flores’s eye with a dare to call him out.

“You boys can fight all you want.” Flores said. He met the eyes of every quailing man and then stopped at Joe, who glared right back at him. He wasn’t going to apologize for his actions. The way he was feeling, he would probably end up taking a swing at Flores next.

“Beat each other to death! See if I care!” Flores’s voice got louder as he stepped away. He walked three steps forward and turned to face them. “But only if you want to be left behind. If you want to ride with me you’ll keep out of trouble!” he practically bellowed the last few words.

The gang members cringed, but Joe only smiled wider. Sure Flores was intimidating to a point, but he’d been raised by Ben Cartwright. It didn’t get much more intimidating than that. Flores gave Joe one more withering glare which he then swept around to the other men and then walked away. Joe stuck his hands into his pockets and started whistling through swollen lips. He stopped when he passed Jimmy.

“Having fun?” Jimmy looked both amused and annoyed.

“Loads. You should have jumped in.”

“I would have, but I didn’t want you to mistake me for one of them. Plus I remembered why we’re here.”

Joe shrugged. “They started it.”

“Yeah, and you were just an innocent victim.”

Joe tried to look contrite, but no matter which way he moved his facial muscles, he couldn’t quite get rid of the grin that was determined to stretch from one side of his face to the other. Jimmy rolled his eyes at him.

“All I can say is I hope you can keep that smirk on your face when its screaming with pain in a couple of hours. You’ve got about four different colors up there.”

“Oh trust me, I gave worse than I got.” Joe sauntered away.

~*~

From then on, most of the gang kept away from Joe, though he could sense the poisonous looks that they would give him from behind. He didn’t care. He hadn’t had a nightmare in the whole ten long days that Jimmy dragged them through the land of broken rock, scrub grass, and muddy water. They took turns leaving signs for the posse behind them. Joe could only hope the pursuers would catch up soon.

They were breaking camp the morning of the eleventh day when Soyez pulled Flores aside. Joe was instantly alert. Soyez had proved to be a sore loser, and Joe had a sudden tingling feeling that mischief was in the air. As they spoke, Flores nodded and glanced at him and then at Jimmy who was over by the horses. Joe’s stomach churned.

“So.” The one word spoken by Flores was loud enough that everyone in camp stopped what they were doing and turned to face him. “It would seem we have a traitor.” Flores glared at his men. “Someone left a sign for the posse behind us this morning. I would like to know who it is.” He pulled out his gun and made a show of counting the bullets inside it.

Joe caught Jimmy’s eye and instantly he knew what his friend was thinking. They were the first suspects, and there was no way Flores would believe Joe was innocent if Jimmy was involved. But he might believe the opposite. Joe gave Jimmy a slight nod. Outwardly he may have seemed resolved, but inwardly he grimaced. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

Jimmy grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him forward. As Joe hit the ground, he felt a kick in his side.

“Here’s your traitor, Juan.” Jimmy kicked Joe again for good measure.

“Oh? Just one?” Juan eyed Jimmy like a snake. “Or were there more?”

“Tell him!” Jimmy grabbed Joe by the collar and heaved him up. Joe heard the cocking of Jimmy’s gun in his left ear. “Tell him!”

Do you have to be quite so realistic? Joe wanted to ask. He knew that he did though. Both of their lives depended on it.

“I left the trail. I asked Jimmy to bring me here so I could help the sheriff.” Joe said. He looked down and shrank back like he was afraid. Only he wasn’t pretending. Flores’s eyes blazed like a bonfire.

“Was I involved?” Jimmy hissed.

“No.”

Flores sent a fist into Joe’s stomach as Jimmy held him. All the air went out of Joe’s lungs, and he gasped for breath. Jimmy held him up while Flores’s punches landed on his face and stomach. For an instant, Joe thought he was back in prison, being held by Flores’s sidekicks as he dished out another black eye.

Trapped into taking their hits again. He felt the humid chill of their underground cell, heard the clank of the prisoners in chains. Joe opened his swollen eyes and tried to focus on the dusty rocks and the hot sun. Then Jimmy dropped him to the ground. He heard another gun cock, but he couldn’t even lift his head to look up. Then he heard Jimmy’s voice.

“Wait. Let me.”

“Why?” Joe managed to raise his head. Jimmy had his gun drawn already, and he stood between him and Flores.

“I brought him here. It’s my fault. I should be the one to kill him.”

Flores paused and then nodded. “Go ahead.”

Jimmy lowered his gun, and Joe looked up into the eye of the barrel. His mind couldn’t focus on it though. Everything was fuzzy. Jimmy needed to hurry up and shoot because Joe was pretty sure he was going to collapse in another minute. He looked in Jimmy’s eyes, but he couldn’t see the apology that he knew was there.

I trust you, Jimmy. He thought. The posse was right on their trail. All Jimmy had to do was hit a spot close enough to look fatal. If anyone could do it, it was Jimmy.

He barely heard the gunshot; the only sensation he had was a flash of pain in his shoulder. Joe grabbed it from reflex and then adjusted his arm so it looked like he was holding his chest. His shoulder throbbed; Jimmy’s form swam in front of his eyes, but he couldn’t see anyone else. Then he couldn’t see anything at all.

~*~

“Joe? Joe?”

Go away. Joe wanted to say. Let me sleep. But the voice was persistent. He groaned in irritation as he opened his eyes. Then the light hit him, and he groaned again, this time in pain. The light seemed to go right through him and light a fire in his eyes that spread all over him before it eventually settled in his shoulder.

“Joe, what happened?” Ben said.

“They figured out someone was leaving a trail. One of us had to take the fall so the other could keep leaving clues. I drew the short straw.” Joe sat up and glanced at the bandage on his shoulder. “Who patched me up?”

“That would be me.” An army general stood behind Ben and held out a hand. “General Andres Pico.”

“Thanks, General.”

“It wasn’t much; just a crease. You’re lucky.”

“Thanks anyway.” Joe tried to stand, but Ben pushed him gently back down.

“Take it easy, boy.”

“I’m fine, Pa.” And he really did feel fine. A little sore, and his shoulder still had a flame inside of it, but he figured he could stand that. “We should keep moving.”

“General Pico and his men will keep moving. We’re going back.”

“What?”

“And no arguments.” Ben’s eyes were sharp as he gazed at his son and his face was impassive. Any other time the look would have had Joe cowed, but not this time.

“Pa, I can’t leave Jimmy.”

“You’re in no condition to ride, son.”

“I feel fine.” Joe realized it was a lie he’d used once too often. “I know I always say that, but this time it’s true.”

“We have to move, Mr. Cartwright.” General Pico wanted an answer now. Ben stared at his son’s determined face. Against his better judgment, he felt himself starting to yield.

“I want your promise that you will do exactly as I tell you.” He said.

“I will.”

Ben looked up helplessly. “I guess we’re riding with you, General.”

Ben kept a watchful eye on his son as they rode, but Joe seemed to be able to hold himself upright without too much pain. Ben wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he was grateful.

“Jimmy was taking them out of the Santa Ana Mountains.” Joe was telling General Pico. “Once they get clear, I think they were planning on splitting up.”

“So we’ll have to get them soon.” Pico said.

“He may be able to slow them down today.”

“We can only hope.”

Pico had been quizzing Joe for hours on the number of men Flores had with him, their condition, and their plans, but now he was silent as if he planning in his mind, so Joe fell in beside his father. He didn’t say anything, still unsure if his Pa was mad at him or not.

“You know, I still don’t know why you’re so set on this.” Ben broke the silence. “Besides the fact that you don’t like to quit once you’ve started something.” Ben said. “Is there more?”

“I guess.” Joe took a deep breath as he tried, not only to voice his thoughts to his father, but to understand them himself. “It’s just… I saw what had happened to those people on the stage, and then the first posse. All this death. And… I recognize it.”

Ben frowned. “Recognize what?”

“The hatred. The anger. I saw it every day inside San Quentin.” Joe scratched his head. How could he explain this to someone who hadn’t been there? “You know, prison doesn’t make anyone a better person. It just makes them madder, and when they get out, it’s still inside them, and they just want to take it back from the people who put them in there. I feel like if I help to defeat Flores…”

“You’ll defeat whatever’s left of San Quentin inside you.” Ben finished for him. Joe nodded, unable to speak.

~*~

They continued to ride through the night as Pico was determined to catch Las Manilas before they broke free of the mountains. Then, about an hour before dawn, the scout returned.

“They’re camped out by a stream about three miles ahead. If we fan out, the only way to escape is a scramble up over the ridge to the next canyon.”

“Good.”

They moved forward and then left their horses as they peered down below to the camp that was just beginning to break up for another day’s ride. Joe’s heart jumped.

“What about Jimmy?” he asked Pico.

“We can’t get down there without being spotted.” Ben realized. If they had arrived an hour earlier, it would have been dark enough, but now it was too late.

“Someone has to go down and get him out of there.” Joe insisted.

“You and the boy are the only ones who know what this Jimmy looks like.” Pico pointed out to Ben.

“Pa, I’m small enough to make it down through those rocks without being seen.” Joe said.

“You’re in no condition to climb down into a camp full of outlaws.”

“I won’t be seen, and if I am, my left arm’s still good; Jimmy shot my right one.” Joe turned and started climbing down. He didn’t like to turn away from Pa like that, but there wasn’t much time.

“Joseph!” Ben stopped himself from going after him. By the time he reached Joe, they would be clearly visible to anyone below, and he didn’t want to give their position away. The same problem kept him from yelling out after his son. Ben clenched his jaw. He hated the helpless resignation that was becoming so familiar to him lately when it came to any of Joe’s actions.

Pico clapped him on the back. “He’ll be alright. That shoulder wasn’t too bad. So long as he stays clear of any fighting he’ll be fine.”

Joe skirted along the hillside as he wriggled through the rocks. He scanned the camp while he moved, searching for Jimmy. As he worked his way, down, he didn’t notice someone following him, silent as a shadow.

~*~

“There’s a man behind him.” Ben realized. Pico glanced over at the small figures moving in and out of the rocks.

“Smart bastards.” Pico weighed his options. “We’ll have to move quickly if we don’t want to lose the element of surprise.”

Ben nodded. Pico could do whatever he liked, but as soon as the troops moved forward and he didn’t have to hide behind this rock, he was going after his son.

Pico gave the command, and the whole company burst forth like water flooding down onto a house of sticks.

~*~

“What in the world?” the sound of the attack resonated in the hills. Joe couldn’t figure out why they had decided to move now.

Just then he was hit from behind. Joe twisted, but as he did, his foot slipped, and he rolled forward on top of the man who had jumped onto him. Joe was up in an instant and fired his gun a split second before the outlaw did. The outlaw slumped down, dead. Joe sprang forward. He still had to find Jimmy.

The camp had launched into a state of chaos. Men ran this way and that trying to get on their horses and get out while a few ducked behind rocks to fight. There was no organization, which meant Flores was doing nothing to try to lead his men. Which meant that he was probably trying to sneak away. Which meant that Jimmy would be with him. Joe jogged across the camp, still looking, to where the horses were picketed. He could make out the paint still there, but something was causing the horses to dance nervously. As Joe got closer, he saw two figures rolling around in the dust.

1.  Joe broke into a sprint.

The sound of a gunshot sliced through the air.

It seemed like he was running through water; his legs couldn’t move fast enough. Jimmy lay motionless on the ground, and Flores jumped onto the closest horse he could find with a saddle on it. Each footfall seemed to last an eternity as Flores dug his heels into his horse and raced up the ravine to the top of the ridge. Joe barely noticed him; all his attention was on Jimmy. At last he reached his friend and dropped down to the ground beside him.

“Jimmy.”

Jimmy shoved him away. “Ride the paint. Get him!”

Joe automatically sprang into action. The horse was bridled but not saddled, and he gripped the whither hair and swung up easily, spurring him on even as he mounted. The horse didn’t need to be told twice. He raced up the ridge, his hooves echoing like a hailstorm bearing down on Flores. The slight pain in his shoulder was forgotten for a moment as they ran; his body moved in rhythmic motion with the horse like waves of the sea, and the wind sang in his ears as it whistled by. He urged the horse faster, and a grin broke over his face as the horse leaped to even greater strides. The horse knew they were in a race; he had locked onto the horse in front of them, and he wanted to win. But behind the fierce competitiveness was a feeling that while Joe knew it well, he had never expected to find it with such depth in another living creature. It was the joy of the chase and of flying so fast your eyes watered and the lather from the horse flew back to his him on the face. Suddenly Joe and the horse became one being as they raced, an avalanche roaring behind Flores, knowing it would catch up to him and glorying in the sheer power of itself before it caught its prey.

Then Flores turned and sent a shot back toward Joe. He leaned closer to the pinto’s neck and sent back a shot of his own. His right hand wasn’t working very well because of his shoulder, but the horse was responding well enough off his leg and seat to not have to worry too much about the reins. He fired a few more shots, but he was having a hard time keeping his arm steady and aiming while riding.

If I get back home, I’m practicing every day until I can shoot anything. He resolved. He sent back another shot in response to one of Flores’s. Flores shot again, and Joe pulled the trigger. But instead of a bullet coming out, the gun simply clicked. Joe muttered a word that would get a raised eyebrow from his father. He was out of bullets.

“Just gotta catch him then.” Joe urged the horse even faster. If he was out of bullets, Flores probably was too. His suspicion was confirmed when he saw Flores drop his gun and kick his horse faster.

“As if you could get away.” Joe grinned. They thundered to the top of the ridge and raced along the edge, over which was a drop of hundreds of feet. As they pulled neck and neck with Flores, Joe jumped over, knocking him off his horse.

They rolled several feet, and then Joe jumped up and sent a punch flying at Flores. The outlaw retaliated, but Joe managed to duck and hit him again. He grinned.

“Not so high and mighty without three or four sidekicks to hold me down, are you?” he smirked.

Flores spat at him. “And you think you’re so high and mighty? You don’t even know about life.”

“And you do?” Joe didn’t manage to dodge the next blow, and it knocked him backwards. He recovered and caught Flores in the nose.

“I know how to survive.”

“No, you know how to make yourself big by making others small. But you’re trapped by your hatred. Even at San Quentin you were more of a prisoner than I ever was because I didn’t need to pull myself up by shoving others into the dust. And now that I’m out, my fear gets smaller every day, and one of these days I’m going to let it go completely.” Joe said. His shoulder was throbbing, but his head was clear as a morning on the mountain. “But you’ll carry it inside you, along with your hatred and anger for the rest of your life.”

“And you think your life will be so much longer than mine, Cartwright?” Flores’s hand twitched, and something shiny flashed in the air. Instinct turned into a duck, but not soon enough, and a sharp stab of pain shot through Joe’s left shoulder. He glanced down to see the handle of a dagger sticking out of it.

Flores sprang toward him, and Joe used the only weapon he had left: his head. He plowed into Flores’s stomach, and they both fell backwards, but instead of slamming into the ground, they fell.

The edge of the ravine. Joe realized. That was stupid. He hit the sloped wall and curled himself into a ball in an attempt to protect his injured shoulders. Small rocks bit into him as he rolled while the large ones felt like fists of iron. Joe kept his eyes clamped shut and he was knocked down the side of the cliff. He heard a snap in his side as he fell on a pointed boulder. He was waiting to land on one that would smash in his head. But the next thing he landed on was soft. And then all was still.

They’d landed on a ledge. Both Flores and Joe were stunned that they’d stopped moving, but Joe came to his senses and reacted first, a split second before Flores. He jerked the knife out of his shoulder and pressed it up against Flores’s throat.

“Still trying to bring me in alive?” Flores panted slightly. His face was sweaty and bruised. “I’d give up on that if I were you.”

“Lucky for you, you’re not.”

“What’s your plan then?”

Joe glanced up. There was no way he could climb back up those rocks, especially while trying to keep Flores from escaping, and they both knew it. “We wait. The posse’ll be along behind us.”

Flores nodded toward Joe’s shoulder. “Think you’ll last long enough?”

Joe didn’t have to follow Flore’s gaze; he could feel the blood trickling down his arm. He shifted so he could cover the wound with his right hand.

“So how long do you think it’ll take for you to pass out?” Flores’s lack of concern made Joe want to stick the knife into his arrogance and give it a good twist. He gripped the handle  tighter.

“How long do you think they’ll wait after your trial to hang you?” he hissed.

“What trial? I’m just waiting for you to get dizzy enough for me to escape.”

“Don’t hold your breath. Or better yet, do. It’ll save me from having to slit your throat if I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

“You got enough strength to slit my throat?” Flores mocked.

“You want to risk it?”

Flores shut his mouth, for which Joe was thankful, but he kept the arrogant smirk. Joe ignored it. In all honesty, he didn’t know if he had enough strength in his arm to hold the knife until the posse got there, much less cut anyone’s throat, but he wouldn’t let Flores know that. He concentrated on not letting his hand shake.

The minutes dragged by in a way that reminded Joe of a limping turtle. His head felt heavy, but the rest of him felt so light that the slightest wind could brush him off the side of the cliff. Flores floated before his eyes; first there were two, then three, then one again. Joe couldn’t let himself blink too much to clear his head. He didn’t want Flores to know he didn’t think he could hold out much longer.

He snapped to attention as Flores tried to move and pressed the knife closer. A thin red line appeared on Flores’s throat.

“Keep moving; see what happens.” Joe’s voice was dry and scratchy from thirst, but it still managed to hold a deadly tone. Flores lay still.

God, Even the voice in his head sounded faint, if you’ve got any extra miracles that you’re not using right now, I sure wouldn’t mind having one. He counted the throbbing in Flores’s temple and noticed that it was in time with the throbbing of his right shoulder. His left one was numb, and he hoped the bleeding had stopped.

“Getting tired of holding that knife?” Flores whispered.

“Getting tired of wishing I would keel over?” Joe snapped back. His ears perked as he heard a horse call out. And if he didn’t miss his guess, another one answered. He gave Flores his own arrogant grin.

“Guess you ran out of luck.”

“What makes you think that’s not my men?” Flores asked. But just then Joe heard the voice he’d been wanting to hear more than any other voice in the world.

“Joe!” Ben called.

“Down here, Pa!” Joe could barely holler back.

Ben looked over the edge of the ravine and his heart nearly stopped as he saw his son more than a hundred feet below, lying on top of Flores.

“Rope!” he called. He tied one end around his waist.

“Sure you want to go down there?” Pico asked.

“Just lower me down.” Ben muttered. He was already studying the rocks, planning his descent. “Ready?”

“Ready, sir.” his belayer called. Ben swung his legs over the edge and began to climb down.

Joe watched him from below. He sensed anxiousness in Flores, but he didn’t have the strength to tighten his grip.

“Don’t move.” he threatened. He could still bluff him. Flores stayed frozen until Ben’s feet landed on the ledge. He instantly had his gun out and cocked.

“Are you ok, Joe?” he asked.

“Fine.” Joe didn’t think he could stand. Thankfully Pa seemed to sense his weakness and helped him sit up. Then he untied the rope and handed it to Flores. “You first. I’ll have my gun on you from below, and they’ll have theirs on from above. Keep that in mind.”

Joe leaned back against his Pa as Flores began to climb. He shut his eyes against a sudden feeling of nausea and tried to stop the world from spinning around him.

“Joe.” Ben said.

“Hmm?”

“It’ll be easier to climb back up if you’re conscious.”

“I don’t think I can make it up those rocks.”

Ben gave Joe a worried look. If his son was admitting he couldn’t do something without even trying it, he must be hurting. He noticed Joe clenching his left shoulder.

“What did you injure this time?” he asked.

“It wasn’t me; it was Flores.” Joe grumbled. “Stabbed me with his darn knife.”

Ben pulled Joe’s hand aside to take a look and grimaced. It wasn’t pretty. It had probably happened before they’d taken the tumble down the cliff because there was a lot of tearing of the skin around the initial cut, as if the knife had been jerked back and forth while in his shoulder. Ben pulled out a handkerchief.

“So now I’ll have matching shoulders.” Joe mumbled. Ben noted worriedly that his voice seemed dazed, and his eyes refused to focus.

“Hang in there, boy.” he said as he tied the handkerchief.

The rope came back down, and Ben paused as he contemplated how this was going to work. Joe was in no condition to climb on his own.

“Joe.” Ben said. He shook his son slightly.

“Huh…?” Joe’s eyes opened in slits and his head lolled slightly to the side.

“Do you think you can hold onto my back while I climb?”

Not a chance. Joe thought. But he nodded. “I can try.”

He climbed onto his father’s back like he was a five year old wanting a piggy back ride, and Ben tied to rope around both of them. Joe wondered disorientedly if Pa would be able to climb up with his added weight, but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate to shape the words. He gripped his Pa’s waist with his legs since they seemed to be the only part of his body that was working. Ben was climbing slowly, his muscled trembling under the added weight. As they reached the halfway point, Joe suddenly dropped his face onto his father’s shoulder.

“Oh, God.”

“What is it?” Ben asked. He paused in his climb.

“I just looked down.” He hadn’t known how high up the ledge had been, but the realization had cleared his head in an instant. Muscles that had been unresponsive suddenly latched onto his Pa with a death grip. He closed his eyes and kept his forehead pressed against the back of his Pa’s leather vest.

“Almost there, son.” Ben said. He kept climbing, and Joe fought to keep down the contents of his stomach.

Arms reached down to help pull Ben up over the edge at the top. As soon as they untied the rope, Joe let himself fall backwards on the ground. He didn’t care that it was hard and pebbles dug into his back. No bed had ever received him with such warmth and affection as that California ground. Joe closed his eyes.

“Joe.” Ben crouched beside him.

“Just give me a minute, Pa.” Joe slowly let his muscles relax one by one as he exhaled. His limbs felt wooden and heavy, and blissfully numb. The black spots that had been hovering at the edges of his vision suddenly multiplied and swarmed like bees. Pa called his name again, and Joe tried to respond, but it seemed like he was a thousand miles away. Stronger and closer was the call of sleep, and she drew him to her and wrapped him in her dark cloak.

~*~

Darkness wrapped around him like a chain threatening to strangle him. Joe gasped for breath, and his lungs filled with stale prison air. Something hit him in the side; it felt like a boot, but his arms and legs felt like lead. He twitched as another kick came, this time from the other side. Joe struggled to fight back, but his body wouldn’t respond to the frantic cries from his brain.

“Joe. Joe, wake up.”

“Pa?” the word sounded like it came from a five year old. Ben latched onto Joe’s hand.

“I’m here, son.” his eyes were fixed anxiously on Joe’s face and eyes, which slowly fluttered open.

“Where am I?”

“Rancho San Joaquin near Santa Ana.”

Joe let out a breath that was a mile long. He closed his eyes again, and Ben saw a tear in one of them.

“Joe?” he asked hesitantly.

“I thought I was back there. It was so real…” Joe couldn’t talk. If he talked, he’d cry. He struggled to clear his throat.

Ben sat on the bed, still holding on to his son’s hand. “You’re not going back there, Joe. Ever.”

“I know. At least my head knows. But I can’t convince the rest of me.” Tears came despite his best efforts, and the next thing Joe knew was a pair of arms drawing him close to his Pa. He gave up trying to fight and let Ben hold him as he let out nine months worth of held back tears. Ben gripped his son as sobs wracked his body, wishing he could do something else for him. He pressed Joe’s head to his heart as he remembered the first night he’d been back. He had thought that was the end, but clearly some scars took longer to heal.

“I just can’t let it go.” Joe’s voice was muffled as he spoke into Ben’s shirt.

“Have you tried? Or are you keeping it all inside?” Ben asked softly.

“It’s just… I can’t talk… it’s locked away.” It was awkward talking with his face pressed against his father’s chest, but Joe didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay hidden against Pa like this for the rest of his life. Here at least was safety.

Ben rubbed his back in a calming motion that made Joe think of being four and bumping a knee or some other part of his body. He’d always run to Pa first, gotten a ‘you’ll be fine’ and then had gone on to display his bruises to his mother with a swagger. But now, Joe wasn’t so sure if he would be fine. He closed his eyes and counted his Pa’s heartbeats in his ear as his breathing slowly calmed.

“Sorry I got your shirt wet.” he mumbled.

Ben let out a short laugh. “I’m not worried about that.”

“What are you worried about?” Joe knew he should sit up, but he couldn’t drag himself out of the aura of comfort that his father provided. Not yet.

“You.”

“Me too.”

“You still don’t want to talk about it?” Ben knew the answer. Joe knew the answer. But he still had trouble getting the first few words out. Once they came, the rest burst forward like a dam breaking. He told his Pa everything he had told Jimmy and the paint horse and more. About the nightmares, about the loneliness, about his terror at his trial and feeling abandoned by his family. He even went back and told him about the fights first with a schoolmate and next with Adam. The fights that had started it all. At first he didn’t sense any difference, but eventually as he talked, he felt like the words were weights that floated up and away as he spoke them, leaving him that much lighter. When he finally ran out of things to say, he felt exhausted, but it was a different kind of exhaustion than he’d been feeling lately. There was an alien feeling in his chest, as if the dust had finally settled and all was calm. He looked up but didn’t pull away from the embrace quite yet.

“Pa, what’s wrong?” he noticed Ben’s glistening cheeks.

Ben cleared his throat and brushed away the moisture in his eyes. “Jimmy told me some of that. But to hear it from you…” he didn’t know what he was saying. Joe’s words had been like nails through his father’s heart as he realized just how much his son had been through. But he didn’t want to let Joe know that; it might stop him from telling him things in the future. “Think you’ll be alright?” he asked.

Joe nodded. “I guess.” Amazingly, he wanted to sleep. Somehow he knew no nightmares would bother him.

~*~

“Well, looks like this is it.” Jimmy said. They were outside the doctor’s office, and three horses were tied to a hitching post: Ben’s buckskin, the paint, and a bay. Joe sighed. He had hoped Jimmy would want to come back to the ranch, at least for a little while longer.

“You sure you don’t want to come back to the Ponderosa with us?” Ben seemed to have the same idea.

Jimmy laughed. “I know one thing, Mr. Cartwright, I ain’t a rancher. No, I’m one of those people who have to wake up in the morning in a different place than where I started out the day before.” He glanced at Joe. “You saved my life, chico.”

“You saved mine.”

“I still feel like I owe you. I may not be meant for a ranch, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t.” he gestured toward the paint.

“Your horse?”

“Your horse.”

Joe blinked. Jimmy had nearly died to get the creature back, and now he was just handing him to him?

“Why?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Jimmy climbed up onto the back of a bay and tipped his hat. “That way if you get to being haunted by memories, you can at least outrun ‘em. I’ll make sure my wanderings bring me back to that ranch of your someday.”

“You do that.” Ben said.

Joe was still speechless, but as his friend cantered down the road, he raised one hand in a farewell while the other tentatively reached out to stroke the horse’s neck.

Historical Notes: Juan Flores was an inmate at San Quentin State Prison who escaped in October, 1856 (which I totally didn’t know when I wrote the first story. I’m just that much of an accidental genius). In January 1857 he and his gang, Las Manillas raided the town of San Juan Capistrano. They stayed there for several days, and then received news from a spy in Los Angeles that Sheriff Barton was on his way to capture them with a posse of seven men (I added Ben Cartwright, obviously). The posse stopped at the ranch for breakfast and when they left, the bullets had been taken out of their guns. It was assumed that it was done by Chola Martina, an Indian girl who was in love with Flores, but nothing was proven. The posse was massacred, but three men managed to get away and come back with a larger force. Las Manillas were tracked into the mountains and most of the men were killed. Flores was hung in February 1857.

 

Storyline Notes: Yes, I know that Joe’s horse was mentioned as having been traded for from Chief Winnemucca, but guess what? My story’s better.

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.