Seth Pruitt took another step forward, backing Joe Cartwright into a corner of the nearly empty schoolroom. "You’re not gonna say anything, are ya?" he asked in a harsh whisper. "Like I said, I left right after you did and he was fine when I left, Joe. I don’t know what happened, but I didn’t do anything to him. You gotta believe me."

Joe looked into his friend’s insistent blue eyes. "I-I believe ya, Seth."

Seth let out a long, slow breath, looking relieved. "Then you’re not gonna tell, right?"

"Seth, if it was an accident, what’s the big deal if anyone else finds out?" Joe asked, truly puzzled by the older boy’s anxiety.

"Cause it just won’t look good, Joe." Seth took a step back, then rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Do I have to remind ya we were skippin’ school that day? I’m not so much worried for me, ‘cause you know my pa don’t care what I do, but if your pa finds out…."

Joe knew what his pa would do if he ever found out that he’d skipped school. "Okay, Seth. I won’t say anything."

"Ya promise, Joe?"

"I promise."

"Thanks." Seth grinned at him. "I knew I could count on you, buddy."

Seth’s use of the word ‘buddy’ reminded Joe that he had been in a hurry to get out of school. "Oh boy, I gotta go!" he exclaimed, ducking around the other boy. "See ya around!"

_ _ _ _ _

"Adam!" the small boy shouted, launching himself from the steps of the schoolhouse. "Where’s Pa?"

"Where’s Pa?" Adam responded drolly, after catching his younger brother. "That’s a fine welcome home. No I missed you, or did you have a nice trip?" In reality, he was quite pleased with his little brother’s welcome; it was a whole lot better than the distantly polite greeting he’d received a year ago. When Adam had stepped off the stage from Boston, the long awaited reunion with his father and middle brother had been everything he had hoped for, heartwarming, enthusiastic and joyful. But to Adam’s disappointment, his baby brother Joe had been hesitant, to say the least, lurking timidly behind their father and only offering a half-hearted smile after being prompted. Adam had known beforehand that he’d have a lot of ground to make up with the child, but the carefully constructed wall Joe had built in his four-year absence had been completely unexpected. It had taken a lot of time and patience for Adam to very gently break down the barrier, so he could begin rebuilding a foundation and regain the boy’s trust.

"Well, I just thought Pa would be here, too." Joe shrugged, looking around as Adam set him on his feet. "He is here, ain’t he?"

"He’s here," Adam assured.

"Oh." Joe adjusted his hat and gave him a beatific smile. "Did ya bring me anything?"

"Sure did!" Adam grinned, pushing the boy’s hat down again. "A new teacher."

"What?"

"The new schoolteacher came in on the stage with us," Adam explained. "Pa’s helping her with her things right now."

The boy wrinkled his nose disapprovingly. "Didn’t ya bring me anything good?"

"I guess you’ll have to wait and see," Adam told him, chuckling. "Where’s your pony?"

"Hoss brung me in this morning," Joe told him.

"Brought," Adam corrected.

"He left the buckboard at the livery stable and went home to tend to Sheba. He thinks she’s gonna foal any time now."

"We better hurry home then, huh? Wouldn’t want to miss out on that, would we?"

"No," Joe answered seriously, then his face lit with inspiration and he slipped his hand into his older brother’s. "Did you have a nice trip, Adam?"

Adam laughed; he knew when he was being conned. "Now you ask."

"So…." Joe licked his bottom lip and grinned slyly. "What places did ya go to?"

"Oh, lots of places."

"Like the harbor?" asked Joe.

"Yep."

"That big wharf?"

"Uh-huh."

"How ‘bout any other places?"

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Any other places, like where?"

"I dunno…." Joe got a thoughtful look in his eyes then smiled brightly. "Maybe places where you might be able to find a gift for your poor little brother who had to stay home?"

"You mean Hoss?"

"Adam!" Joe pouted then looked up sideways. "If I woulda went with Pa, I woulda brought you a present."

Adam put an arm across the boy’s shoulders, guiding him towards the hotel down the street. "If you’d have went with Pa, you’d have been bored to tears."

Joe suddenly took a hold of his brother’s arm, his eyes wide and intense. "It sure wasn’t boring here! You wouldn’t believe what happened while you were gone."

"Oh, yeah?" Adam grinned, ruffling Joe’s hair.

"You know Jesse Simmons, Sarah’s brother?" Joe began animatedly, being careful not to divulge too many details. "Well, he never came home from school on Tuesday and the whole town was out searchin’ for him the next day. I was hopin’ they’d close down the school, so we could help search too, but they didn’t. They said we needed to go to school and act like everything was normal, but I think they just didn’t think we’d be any help on account of we’re just kids." Joe looked up, his wide eyes. "They found him yesterday, so he wasn’t kidnapped like some of us ‘spected."

"Oh yeah? Where was he?"

Joe looked down sadly and shook his head. "They found him out by the creek and he was dead. Sheriff Coffee said it looked like he fell and hit his head on a rock or something. I saw his ma and pa go into Doc Martin’s and they were real sad." Joe took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I’m real glad you and Pa are home now."

"So am I, buddy." Adam pulled his brother a little closer.

"So, Adam…." Joe beamed at him, his good humor returning almost instantly. "Tell me about the new school teacher. Is she nice?"

"Pa seems to think so."

The smile disappeared from Joe’s face. "What d’ya mean by that?" he asked warily.

"Between you and me, I think Pa’s a little sweet on her," teased Adam, chuckling when the boy’s expression became stricken.

"That ain’t funny, Adam."

Adam shrugged. "Her name is Mrs. Hannah Clary. She’s a widow," he explained, turning serious. "Her family was killed in a fire a few years back."

"Oh."

"That’s personal information though, buddy. So, don’t go spoutin’ off about it to all your friends, ya hear?"

"I won’t."

"If Mrs. Clary wants the town folk to know, it’s up to her to tell them," he continued, sternly. "Got it?"

"I got it, I got it." Joe rolled his eyes. "Sheesh!" Suddenly his face brightened and he took off in a sprint, his hat, attached by the drawstring, flopping wildly behind him. "Pa!"

Ben Cartwright turned toward the voice, smiled and opened his arms.

Joe rushed into his father’s embrace. "Pa, I missed you!"

Ben hugged the boy tightly. "I missed you too, son."

"Welcome home, Pa," Joe exclaimed, directing the briefest smirk toward his older brother. "Did ya have a nice trip to California?"

"I sure did, " Ben replied with a warm smile, kissing his young son on the forehead. "It was a near perfect trip, except for the fact that my little boy was so far away."

"Pa," Joe hissed, his cheeks coloring.

Ben only laughed and tousled his youngest son’s curls. It was a good thing that the eleven-year old still tolerated that gesture in public, Ben thought, since he didn’t foresee a time in the near future that he – or most of the townsfolk, for that matter – would be able to resist the urge to do so.

As if to prove his point, Sheriff Roy Coffee stooped down and ruffled Joe’s hair. "Hey Little Joe," the sheriff said fondly. "I hear you’re gonna have yourselves a new school teacher on Monday."

"It’s a good thing, too," Joe replied. "Cause Mr. Johnson said if he had to spend one more day teaching us he was gonna end up in the sanitarium." Joe looked up at his father. "Pa? What’s a sanitarium?"

Ben laughed. "It’s a hospital of sorts, son."

"Is Mr. Johnson sick?"

"Nothing a few days of peace and quiet won’t cure, I’m sure," Ben answered reassuringly. "As for the new teacher, she seems very competent. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine with her."

Joe eyed his father suspiciously for a long moment then tugged on his arm. "Pa?"

"Yes, son?" Ben looked down with an indulgent expression.

"Adam said…Adam said that you were swee…." The rest of the sentence came out muffled as a hand was placed over the youngest Cartwright’s mouth.

Adam smiled, bemused. "Don’t pay him any mind, Pa," he said, keeping his palm firmly over the boy’s mouth. "You know children, they tend to say the darnedest things."

"Is that right?" Ben replied wryly.

Joe scowled, struggling to get free from Adam’s restraining hand.

Adam nodded with amusement. "You just never can tell what’s going to come out of their little mouths," he said, then yelped, pulling his hand away as Joe spun around on him. Adam shook his hand, glaring daggers at Joe. "Why, you little…."

"Boys, that’s quite enough," Ben admonished, shaking his head, then he looked up at the darkening sky. "We best get home before this storm lets loose. Is the buckboard all ready to go, son?"

"Everything’s set, Pa," Adam answered, casting one last meaningful glance at his little brother.

Joe smiled angelically.

Ben clapped Roy Coffee on the shoulder and shook his hand. "Nice seeing you, Roy. You’ll have to come out for supper next week sometime."

"It’d be my pleasure, Ben," the sheriff replied. "You boys behave, now," he added with a twinkle in his eye.

"So, Joseph," Ben said with nonchalance, guiding his two sons toward the waiting buckboard. "How’d you and your brother Hoss get along this week?"

"We got along just fine, like always."

"Good, good." Ben nodded, climbing up after Joe. "I presume everything was tended to properly in my absence."

"O’course, Pa."

Adam seated himself on the other side of Joe and gathered the reins.

Joe turned to his father. "So, Pa, is the new school teacher pretty nice?"

"Yes, she is Joe. She’s very nice. I think you two will get along just fine. In fact," he said, draping an arm around his son and pulling him close. "You’ll get a chance to meet her tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Joe scowled. "But, tomorrow’s Saturday."

"Yes, it is," Ben agreed, looking down at his son fondly. "I’ve invited Miss Clary for supper tomorrow evening."

Joe’s eyes grew wide and he glanced at his brother Adam, who was conveniently focused on the road ahead, his mouth turned up in a familiar know-it-all smirk. Joe sighed long-sufferingly and hoped none of the guys found out. And if Adam was telling the truth about Pa being sweet on the teacher…well, he’d have his work cut out for him keeping that a secret. Would Pa really do such a lowdown thing to him? Joe wondered, looking up at the man curiously.

Ben’s features were calm and relaxed. Closing his eyes, he breathed the fresh pine air, thankful, as always, to be back on the Ponderosa. As soon as they were some distance from town, he felt Joe snuggle up to him. Moments like these were becoming less and less frequent, which made Ben cherish them all the more. It was painful to imagine that a time would come when his baby son would never again cuddle up to his pa. Just the thought made his chest feel tight and his arms ache with loss.

His thoughts drifted back to what Sheriff Coffee had told him about the Simmons boy. Such a tragic thing. It filled him with a deep sorrow to think of such a young life being lost. It was a parent’s dreaded fear to outlive their child. He wished he could think of something to say, something to offer that would make their burden lighter, but he couldn’t come up with a single thing. Anything he, or anyone else, could say or do would be simple platitudes, no comfort at all. Still, out of respect and sympathy, he would offer his condolences as soon as possible.

A nudge on his arm brought him out of his reverie and he looked across at his eldest son, finding the boy’s expression one of affectionate amusement. Ben raised an eyebrow and Adam tilted his head toward Joe, who he now realized had been uncharacteristically quiet for quite some time. Ben looked down to find the boy sleeping soundly, his head pillowed against his father’s side.

"I hate to break the peace, Pa," Adam said, grasping the reins more tightly, "but it looks like it’s about to start raining buckets any minute." With a snap, the horses took off at a much quicker pace than they’d been going up until then. Joe startled and opened his eyes, looking a little dazed. "Sorry, buddy," said Adam. "If we don’t get moving we’re gonna get soaked." The statement was punctuated with a loud crack of thunder and the next minute rain was sheeting down on them.

By the time they arrived home, the three of them were drenched and shivering from the more seasonable temperatures the storm had ushered in.

Ben and Adam hopped down from their seats, Little Joe right behind them, and began removing the tarp that covered their load.

Hoss poked his head out of the barn and when he spotted his family, his face broke out in a huge grin and he hurried over to help.

"Little Joe, go on in the house before you catch cold," Ben ordered, handing him one of the smaller pieces of luggage.

Joe nodded, for once choosing not to argue. The temperature was dropping every minute and the rain now felt icy cold.

"Stop right there!" Hop-Sing ordered imperiously, the instant Joe stepped inside the house.

Joe shook a cold spray of water from his hair, then giggled and looked up at Hop-Sing. "Hiya Hop-Sing! Guess what? Pa and Adam are home!" He set the bag carefully on the floor, just incase it was the one containing his present.

"Little boy very bad." Hop Sing began ranting, waving a finger at the youngest Cartwright. "Get water all over!"

"That’s ‘cause it’s rainin’ outside!" Joe protested. "I can’t help that!"

"Take off clothes!"

"W-what?"

"Take off wet clothes, now!"

Joe gulped. "Ya mean right here?"

Hop-Sing pointed to the spot where Joe stood. "Not come any farther!"

"But, Hop-Sing!" Joe’s voice squeaked.

Hop-Sing stood his ground, placing his hands on his hips and raising his chin defiantly, daring the boy to take another step forward.

"Okay, okay. Jeepers." Joe frowned, then grudgingly peeled the wet clothing from his body.

The instant Joe had placed the last item in Hop Sing’s outstretched hand he made a dash for his bedroom. Hop-Sing couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the bare-naked boy running up the stairs, but he continued his diatribe in Cantonese to cover his amusement. He quickly disposed of the wet clothing, then hurried back to the entryway to await the rest of the family.

_ _ _ _ _

"Joseph, eat your supper," Ben directed, glancing pointedly at the untouched plate of food.

"I ain’t hungry, Pa."

"I’m not hungry." Ben corrected tiredly.

"Is that why you ain’t eatin’ your supper neither, Pa?"

Ben leaned menacingly toward his youngest son and pointed a finger at him. "Joseph, if you don’t significantly reduce the amount of food on that plate in the next five minutes…."

"Okay, okay!" Joe promptly scooped a spoonful of peas from his plate into his mouth and smiled cheerfully as he chewed with comical exaggeration. "Mmmm!"

Ben rolled his eyes and shook his head slowly, not even bothering to acknowledge his other two sons as they, once again, failed miserably to contain their laughter.

By the time dessert was finished Little Joe had his chin propped in his right hand and was losing the battle to keep his eyes open.

"Well," said Ben, "I don’t know about you three, but I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day."

"Can’t argue with you there, Pa," said Adam then he yawned and stretched his arms. "In fact, if you don’t mind, I think I’m gonna turn in early."

"Me too, Pa," said Hoss then he sneezed, loudly.

Joe’s head bobbed and he startled awake.

Adam grinned as his little brother blinked owlishly at each of them, then he got up, pulling Joe along with him. "Joe’s gonna turn in early too, Pa."

"I am?" the boy questioned, allowing himself to be led to the stairs.

"Yep. Say Goodnight, Pa."

"G’night, Pa. G’night Hoss."

Ben smiled warmly. "I’ll be up in a bit to tuck you in, son." A moment later, he turned to Hoss, placing his hand on the boy’s arm. "So, how did everything really go while we were away?" He’d already asked the question, but for some reason, couldn’t help but be suspicious of the seemingly perfect week the two younger boys had described.

"Pa, I swear, everything went just fine," he answered, grinning with satisfaction. "Little Joe didn’t get in no trouble, he was good as gold; all the chores got done on time and everything you wrote on that list got done just like you said. If ya don’t believe me, Pa, just ask Hop Sing, or Charlie, or anyone!"

"No, no…that won’t be necessary. I believe you, Son." Ben smiled, patting his son’s broad arm. "It’s just that, well…with that younger brother of yours, sometimes…."

"Yeah, I know whatchya mean, Pa." Hoss chuckled fondly. "But, really, everything went just fine, just like we said."

"Well then, I think I’m going to turn in now," Ben said, rising from his chair. "What about you, son?"

Hoss stood also, plucking half a biscuit from the table. "I think I’ll go check on Sheba one more time before I turn in."

"Don’t stay out there all night, though. Sheba will do just fine when her time comes."

"I know, Pa."

"And, son," Ben said, pausing at the bottom of the staircase. "Thank you for taking care of everything while I was gone."

"Aw shucks," Hoss grinned sheepishly, "it weren’t nothin’."

"It was a big responsibility and you did very well, son. I’m very proud of you."

"Gosh," Hoss said, shoving his hands into his pockets as his cheeks flamed. "Thanks, Pa."

_ _ _ _ _

Ben wasn’t sure what had awoken him, but reluctantly he opened his eyes and immediately noticed that the sun was well up in the sky. He must have been more tired than he’d realized. Rolling over onto his side, he was met by a pair of worried-looking green eyes. Ah, that must have been what woke him from his slumber.

He put a hand to his mouth to cover a yawn, then attempted to smile. "Good mornin’ Joseph."

Joe’s eyes grew round and he put a small hand on his father’s forehead. "Pa, are you sick too?"

Ben smiled. "I’m fine, son. Just overslept." He pulled the covers back and sat up. "What do you mean am I sick too?" he asked.

"Hoss is sick."

"Hoss?"

"He gots a fever."

"Has a fever." Ben corrected automatically, then took his son’s hand between both of his. "The trip must have taken more out of me than I thought, but other than being a little worn out, I feel perfectly fine. No need for you to worry."

"Hoss said he felt fine, too," Joe mumbled.

"Well," Ben cleared his throat. "I suppose I’d better go check on him. Is he still in bed?"

Joe shook his head. "No, he’s out in the barn."

Ben frowned, rubbed a hand over his face and stood up. "Where’s Adam?"

"Adam’s still sleepin’, too, but I checked and he don’t got a fever. You and Adam musta been real worned out."

"Worn out."

Joe nodded solemnly.

"Yes, I suppose so. But, it’s late and I do have a lot to do today. Do Pa a favor and go and wake Adam for me, okay?"

"Okay, Pa." Joe backed toward the door, still looking unconvinced.

As he sought his robe, Ben noticed the chill in the air at the same time he noticed Joe’s little bare feet. "You’d better get dressed first, son," he said. "Don’t’ want you catching cold."

"Yessir, Pa." Joe turned and headed straight down the hall passing his own room and stopping instead at his brother’s door. Cautiously, he turned the knob and opened it just a crack to peek inside. He could see Adam’s face, still beneath his pillow like the last time he’d checked. His eyes were closed, his mouth open and his cheek scrunched against the mattress. As quietly as he could, he tiptoed across the floor to Adam’s bed, reached out and batted the pillow away, fully expecting that alone to wake his brother. But Adam slept on.

He took a step closer. "Adam," he said in a quiet voice, because it usually didn’t take much to wake his big brother, no matter how tired he was. "Aaa-dam."

Still, Adam didn’t move a muscle.

Joe scratched his head then shrugged to himself. Apparently he needed to resort to more drastic measures -- as his pa so often threatened on him. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Well, here goes," he whispered, then cupping a hand to his mouth he shouted, "ADAM!"

"Huh?" Adam’s eyes snapped open and he twisted around, sitting straight up in bed. "What? What time is it?"

Joe shrugged. "Late."

Glancing out the window, he shook his head when he noticed the sun was up and shining brightly. "I can’t believe I slept this late." Standing, he moved quickly to his bureau, looking at himself in the mirror as he splashed water on his face. "How could I have slept this late? I never sleep this late." He grabbed his trousers and pulled them on, then pulled his nightshirt over his head and tossed it over the back of his chair. "Where’s my shirt? Have you seen my shirt?"

Joe shook his head and climbed onto the bed to watch the spectacle.

"Never mind," Adam said, pulling his black shirt out from beneath several other articles of clothing – including his nightshirt – all laid over the back of the chair. "Here it is."

Joe smiled.

"Where’s Pa?" he asked, as he slipped on the shirt and began hastily buttoning it up.

"He slept late, too," Joe answered, still watching with fascination. He noticed after Adam had buttoned his shirt part way, that the buttons weren’t matching up to the right buttonholes. "Uh, Adam?"

Adam paused, looking wildly around the room until he spotted his boots. "Where’s Hoss?" he asked, grabbing a boot and hopping around on one foot as he struggled to get it on.

"Barn," Joe replied vaguely.

"How’s Sheba doing?"

"I dunno. Hey, Adam…um, your shirt…."

Adam glanced at Joe, then picked up his brush, looked into the mirror and began smoothing it over his hair. "I’ll have to shave later," he said, then frowned when he caught a glimpse of his improperly buttoned shirt. "Damn." With fumbling fingers, he began clumsily redoing the buttons.

Joe giggled, then slapped a hand over his mouth.

Adam looked up slowly; the sight of the boy sitting cross-legged on his bed, eyes twinkling with mischief, brought a wry smile to his face. "Don’t you have something better to do, little brother?"

Joe shook his head. "Nope."

"Oh, really?" Adam tucked his shirt into his pants and buckled his belt, then walked over to Joe, took hold of his ankles and slid him to the edge of the bed. "Chores done?"

"Well…." Joe’s smile faded a bit.

"That’s what I thought." Adam smirked. "I tell ya what, why don’t you run along and get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs."

"Okay." The boy hopped down from the bed and was off, stopping at the door. "You still didn’t give me my present," he reminded his older brother.

Adam smiled. "Later, I promise."

"So ya did get me a present!" he crowed. "I knew it!"

Adam gave Joe a gentle push toward his room. "Go on. And don’t forget to comb that hair!"

_ _ _ _ _

"Hoss!" Joe called out when he got to the bottom of the stairs and spotted his middle brother who was wiping his brow with a handkerchief, looking flushed and leaning heavily against the table. "You look terrible!"

"What are you talkin’ about, Little Joe?" Hoss grumbled, his voice raspy. "Don’t even say it, cause I ain’t sick." He straightened up, swaying slightly and scowled at his little brother. "Throat’s a little dry, that’s all." He coughed, then cleared his throat. "All I need is a nice, cold drink."

Joe ran a speculative eye over his older brother. "Well, you look sick to me," he said, then reached a small hand up to touch a warm cheek. "You got a fever, too. You better go lay down."

"You just hush your mouth, Joe. I ain’t got time to be sick." Hoss backed away from Joe, then coughed again, pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.

Before Joe could diagnose any further, Adam came down the stairs. "Hoss, you look terrible," he said, slightly alarmed. Joe beamed at him.

"Aw, now don’t you start too, Adam."

"What do you mean?" Adam walked over to Hoss and placed a hand on his forehead. "You’re burning up, boy."

"I told ya so," said Joe.

"Probably coming down with the flu," Adam guessed, guiding his large brother toward the stairs. "You should get back in bed."

"I told him that, too." Joe folded his arms across his chest and gave Hoss a stern glare. "Maybe you should listen to me sometimes."

Hoss chortled. "That’ll be the day, short shanks." Half way up the stairs he stopped and turned back to his brothers. "I gotta see to Sheba…."

"Sheba’ll be just fine," Adam countered. "You on the other hand, will only end up all the more sick if you don’t take care of yourself."

"You want me to go fetch the doc?" Joe offered, his expression eager.

Adam snorted, then, repeating his brother’s remark, said, "That’ll be the day."

"I’m just tryin’ to be helpful."

"If you want to be helpful," suggested Adam, "go and find Pa. I think he’s outside."

"Okay," Joe agreed, cheerful again. "While I’m out there, I’ll check on Sheba too, Hoss."

"Let me know how she’s comin’ along, little brother."

Adam guided Hoss up to his room and instructed him to get changed and back into bed. "I’ll send Hop Sing up with some tea."

Hoss was showing the same symptoms as Joe had the week before they went to California: wet cough, fever and sore throat. Joe had bounced back after a couple of days and Adam hoped it would be the same for Hoss.

His father was just coming inside when Adam came back down the stairs. "Good morning, Pa."

"Morning, son." Ben smiled and hung his hat on the hook. "I came in to check on Hoss. How’s he doing?"

"I’m pretty sure he’s coming down with the flu, so I sent him to bed."

"Good, good." Ben gestured to the table. "Have you eaten breakfast yet?"

"Not yet, Pa. I slept in a little too late today."

"You’re not the only one." Ben chuckled. "Between you an me, it was a bit unnerving to find that I’d slept longer than Joseph."

"I’ll bet." Adam could just imagine the amount of mischief his littlest brother could conjure up if left unattended for very long.

"But thankfully, the house was still standing and everything seems to be in order," Ben said lightly.

"This time," Adam teased, after taking a sip of his coffee.

"I’m sure this was a one time occurrence." Ben said with false certainty.

Adam grinned. "Or perhaps, one of the signs of the apocalypse?"

Ben’s eyebrows shot up, then his mouth twitched and finally, he chuckled. "I’ll be sure to mention it to the Reverend Budreaux at church tomorrow."

_ _ _ _ _

Later that morning, after Ben and a few of the hired hands had gone out to inspect an area of suspiciously damaged fencing, Adam descended the staircase from checking on Hoss to find Charlie standing in the entryway, clutching his hat in his hand. The first thought that popped into his mind was that Joe was nowhere in sight. He winced realizing that the boy was probably out in the barn ‘lookin’ after Sheba’ like he’d promised Hoss. Well, at least Charlie wasn’t dangling the boy by his collar, which told Adam that apparently his little brother wasn’t making too much of a nuisance of himself. "Hello Charlie," he said. "Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Nah, I’m fine," replied the older man, taking a few hesitant steps into the great room. "Thanks anyway. Joe mentioned your brother Hoss was sick and you might need someone to run to town."

"Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s the flu." Adam sat down in the chair and gestured for Charlie to sit down as well. "Probably nothin’ to worry about, but Pa was still hopin’ to get Doc Martin to stop out sometime, just to be on the safe side."

"Sure thing, Adam." Charlie nodded, fingering the brim of his hat as he sat on the very edge of the settee. "I’ll send C.J. right away. That flu bug’s goin’ around somethin’ fierce. Half the men are out sick right now."

Adam frowned. Obviously he needed to do a little catching up on things. He had no idea that anyone else had taken ill after Joe. "I’ll be sure to tell Doc Martin to stop at the bunkhouse while he’s out here then," he promised.

"I’m sure the men will appreciate it." Charlie nodded, then stood up and took a step toward the door. "If there ain’t anything else then…?"

"Not at the moment." Adam rose from his chair. "Hey, I wanted to ask, how’s Sheba doing?"

"Should be soon. She sure is takin’ her time." Charlie grinned. "Joe’s tendin’ her at the moment. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just keep him busy out in the barn for a spell. We could use an extra hand."

Adam chuckled. "Extra hand?" Joe was usually more trouble than he was worth as an ‘extra hand’. But, Charlie knew the boy well enough to be prepared and he was also quite capable of keeping him in line, much to their amazement. Adam appreciated the favor. "Thanks Charlie. Be sure to send him back inside if he gets in the way."

"Sure thing, Adam."

"Oh and Charlie, one more thing, I almost forgot…could you have C.J. stop at the hotel and leave a message for Mrs. Hannah Clary?" Adam went to his father’s desk and hastily wrote a note conveying their apologies for not being able to keep their previously planned date for dinner that evening, then neatly folded the paper and handed it to the foreman. "I’d hate to have her come out here and end up sick."

"Joe mentioned somethin’ about bein’ real disappointed that he might not get to have supper with his new teacher," Charlie commented with a grin.

"Disappointed?" Adam laughed. "I’ll just bet."

"I’ll be sure C.J. delivers this right away."

"Thanks, Charlie."

Charlie had no more than stepped out the door when Joe came running out of the barn. "Charlie! Ya gotta hurry! C.J. says the baby’s comin’ out backwards!"

Charlie put his hat on and jogged toward the barn. "I was truly hopin’ that wasn’t the problem."

"Come on!" Joe pleaded, tugging him into the barn where C.J. was squatting beside the mare, speaking soft encouragements while Hank knelt behind her, his arm pushed inside as he attempted to maneuver the foal. He craned his neck when he heard Charlie enter, "I got a hold of a leg, but I cain’t git it ta turn around."

"Little Joe, get a rope and then yell fer Hank," ordered Charlie. Joe obeyed, scurrying to the nearest coil of rope hanging on the wall. "C.J., I need you to run into town. Drop this note off at the hotel and fetch Doc Martin. Tell him the flu’s hittin’ pretty hard out here and the Cartwrights would appreciate it if’n he could make a visit."

Joe appeared beside the foreman, face eager and handed him the rope.

"Okay," said Charlie, squatting beside Hank. "See if you can get a hold of the other leg. Looks like we’re gonna have to give ol’ Sheba a little extra help."

_ _ _ _ _

Adam was shocked, later that afternoon, to find that Hop Sing was among those stricken with the flu. He had found the cook looking haggard and drawn, stirring a large kettle of broth. Despite protests, Adam had sent the man off to bed as soon as he noticed the now all-too-familiar symptoms. As far back as he could remember, he couldn’t ever think of a time when Hop-Sing had taken ill.

Well, he and Pa could take turns cooking for a few days and from the looks of it, Hop-Sing had made enough broth to feed a small army. Hop Sing made the expected protest at being ordered to bed, but almost immediately fell asleep. He was always so good at taking care of the family when any of them were sick, so Adam would make sure to care for him properly in return. He grinned, wondering where Hop Sing stored that horrible, bitter tasting tonic he seemed to relish forcing on them whenever any of them so much as sniffled.

As he quietly closed the door to Hop Sing’s room, he heard the front door slam, followed by what sounded like a small army tromping loudly through the house. He wondered what his baby brother was up to and when he heard the feet thumping up the stairs, he hurried to find out. "Joe!"

Wherever he was headed, Joe was in a dead run. "Joseph!" he called out more loudly, doing his best to imitate their father, but still got no response. Before he managed to get to the stairs, there was a knock on the front door. Hopefully, it would be Paul Martin.

"Hoss!" Joe squealed, jumping on the bed and startling his middle brother from a deep sleep.

"Joe?" Hoss blinked, then rubbed his eyes, which Joe noted were really bloodshot. "What is it, punkin? You okay?"

"Hoss! Guess what? Sheba just had the prettiest little filly you ever saw and I was right there, Hoss! I even helped deliver it! It was a little scary and…" he made a face, "kinda messy. Hank said it was a breech and he couldn’t get it turned around the right way, so he tied a rope around its feet and we pulled and pulled until we pulled it right on out o’ there! And guess what? The baby’s a paint! She looks just like her mama! She’s so pretty Hoss, I can’t wait for you to see her!"

Hoss couldn’t help but grin widely at his brother’s enthusiastic details, not to mention he was pleased as punch that the birthing was finally over and everything apparently went okay. "How’s ol’ Sheba doin’?"

Joe took a deep breath and some of his enthusiasm seemed to fade. "Well, Hank says it was a hard birth, but most likely she’ll be okay."

"If’n Hank thinks she’ll be okay, then I’m sure she will, little brother," Hoss said firmly. "If anyone knows about horses, it’s Hank."

"Yeah," agreed Joe, his smile reappearing. "Well, I’m gonna go tell Adam and then go back out to see her again," he said, climbing off the bed. "I’ll come back later and tell ya more!"

"You do that. And Joe…" Hoss smiled proudly at the boy. "You done good, little brother."

"Thanks Hoss!" Joe paused in the doorway and a look of thoughtfulness crossed his features. "Maybe…" he whispered conspiratorially, rubbing his chin, "maybe, somehow I could sneak her up here so’s you could see her?"

"You’ll do no such thing." A stern voice from behind him warned. "Horses belong in the barn."

"Oh, hi Adam!" Joe turned around, smiling sweetly. "Hi Doc! It’s Hoss that’s sick, not me," he clarified for the doctor, just in case.

"Thank you, Joseph," Paul said, ruffling his hair. "Now, what’s all this about sneaking horses up here?"

"Nothin’," Joe answered with a guileless expression.

Adam wasn’t fooled. "Don’t you even think about bringing a horse up here."

"Aw Adam," Joe said. "I was just joshin’."

"You better be just joshin’, boy," Adam threatened, folding his arms across his chest. "Because, I can guarantee that if you bring a horse into this house you won’t be sitting comfortably again ‘til next spring."

"You’d better listen to your brother, Little Joe," Paul Martin cut in with an air of authority. "I happen to know for a fact that Adam learned the no-bringing-barn-critters-into-the-house rule the hard way."

Adam shot the doctor a withering look that went ignored.

Paul Martin winked at Joe as he walked past.

"Adam?" Joe asked, astonished. "*You* brought a horse inside the house?"

"I did not bring a horse inside the house," the eldest brother replied testily.

"Nope, not a horse," Paul confirmed absent mindedly as he opened his bag.

"It was a little baby calf," Hoss supplied with a huge grin. "Cutest thing you ever saw."

"Thank you, brother," said Adam.

"A baby calf?" Joe’s eyes were wide as they darted between his two older brothers.

"There was a very good reason," Adam said, shortly.

Paul Martin tilted his head contemplatively. "If I’m not mistaken, the exact words you said to your pa were, ‘But, Pa! It’s so cold out in the barn.’ Course you weren’t exactly feelin’ the cold much after your pa warmed your britches, now were ya?"

Adam closed his eyes as Hoss and Joe both burst into laughter, but when Hoss began coughing again, Adam took Joe by the shoulders and directed him out into the hallway. "Okay, that’s enough. We’ll leave you to your patient, Doc."

"Adam?" Once out of the room, Joe looked back at his older brother. "Did Pa really warm your britches?"

Adam arched a dark eyebrow and smiled. "Yes, he did."

"Golly, I thought you never got in trouble."

"That was a long time ago. I was a kid, not much older than you."

Joe couldn’t imagine Adam ever being a kid and hard as he tried, he couldn’t form an image of his oldest brother across Pa’s knees.

"Let’s go check on Hop Sing," Adam said, hoping the distraction would work.

"Was that the only time you got a tannin’?" Joe asked, obviously not distracted.

"That’s none of your business."

Joe gaped at him.

Thankfully, Adam was saved by the sound of hooves trotting into the yard. "Sounds like Pa’s home."

"I better go tell him about the new filly!" Joe said excitedly and dashed out the door.

_ _ _ _ _

Adam looked up from the papers he’d been sorting through at his father’s desk as Paul Martin came down the stairs with his black bag in hand. "What’s the diagnosis?" he asked, motioning for the doctor to have a seat.

"The flu, just like you figured." Doc Martin sat down in a chair, then removed his glasses and began polishing the lenses with a handkerchief. "Not much you can do. Just see to it he gets a lot of liquids and bed rest and let me know if his fever seems to get any worse."

Propping his elbows on the desk, Adam nodded. "Hop Sing’s come down with it, too. I should warn you though," he said with a grin, "he’s proving to be a most…uncooperative patient."

"Couldn’t be any worse than a certain little bundle of dynamite I happen to know."

"Well, no, probably not." Joe was downright insufferable whenever he was sick. Most of the time it took more than a little threatening from Pa to get him to cooperate with the doctor, or anyone else for that matter. "I told Charlie you’d stop in and check on the workers out in the bunkhouse. I guess quite a few of them have it, too."

"It’s certainly making the rounds." The doctor sighed heavily. "Half of Virginia City is down with it."

Adam tapped his pencil on the desk, taking note of how exhausted the doctor appeared. "You look like you could use a cup of coffee."

"I sure could," Paul agreed. "Nice and strong."

"Be right back." Adam hurried to the kitchen. He’d made a pot of coffee earlier and there was just enough left for two cups.

"If this keeps up," the doctor remarked when Adam returned, "I doubt there’ll be enough healthy children to bother opening school on Monday. How are you feeling?"

Perched on the edge of his father’s desk, Adam took a sip of the coffee then shrugged. "I feel fine."

"That’s good, ‘cause if you and your pa end up bedridden too, well…that’ll leave Little Joe in charge around here and I’d hate to see the results of a week with him running the ranch."

Adam choked, nearly spewing the mouthful of hot brew. When he’d recovered, he pointed his index finger at the doctor and said with as much sincerity as he could muster, "Lord, don’t even joke about a thing like that."

Paul Martin was unable to contain his burst of laughter.

Ben and Joe entered the house at the same time that Doc Martin finished his cursory exam of Hop Sing. As the bedroom door opened there was a definite crescendo of irate sounding Cantonese, causing all three Cartwrights to stop in their tracks. When the door shut the volume faded substantially. Wide-eyed, Little Joe looked from his father to Adam and back again, then broke out in a fit of giggles. "I never heard him that mad before!"

"What was he saying?" Adam inquired reluctantly, hating that Little Joe could understand the language and he couldn’t.

"Never mind, son." Ben said, smiling.

The doctor walked backwards into the great room, then turned and greeted his friend with a handshake. "Ben, good to see you."

"Nice to see you too, Paul," Ben replied. "I hope you’ll forgive Hop Sing, he doesn’t mean to be so…."

"Hostile? Insulting?"

Ben laughed. "I think I’d better be careful of what I say."

"What you say -- did you hear what he said?" The doctor looked both stunned and on the brink of laughter and Joe began giggling again.

"I think I’d rather not know," said Ben, directing a stern look at his youngest. "As for you young man…."

Adam walked over to Joe and ruffled his hair. "You’d best keep it down, little brother," he said, teasing. "If Hop Sing hears you laughing he’s liable to make…oh say, liver and onions every night for the rest of your life."

Joe wrinkled his nose in disgust. "He wouldn’t do that."

"Oh, I don’t know Joseph." Ben tried to look serious, but his dark eyes sparkled with humor. "I wouldn’t take any chances if I were you and I wouldn’t be too quick to repeat whatever it was you heard. I may not have the authority to wash Hop Sing’s mouth out with soap, but yours is another story."

"Well," Paul interrupted, "if you don’t mind, I’m going to stop at the bunkhouse and then head for home."

"I’ll walk you out," Ben offered then turned to Adam. "Son, why don’t you go ahead and start dinner."

Joe groaned. "I’d rather eat liver."

"Joseph." Ben held up a finger in warning, but then looked at the doctor and smiled. "You’re welcome to join us, of course, Paul."

"Well, I would but…."

Ben nodded in understanding and motioned his friend to precede him outside. "Maybe another time."

"I’ll have you know I’m not that bad of a cook," Adam called out in protest.

Joe tugged on his sleeve and gazed up at him solemnly. "Yes you are, big brother."

"Thanks a lot." Adam sighed, his forehead wrinkling as he tried to think of what he could make. "What do you feel like having?"

"Eggs?" Joe said flatly, resigned. He was pretty sure it was the only thing Adam knew how to make, aside from beans.

"Good choice."

_ _ _ _ _

"Pa said to go ahead and start without him," Adam said, coming from the kitchen with a serving plate full of what else but scrambled eggs. "He went into town."

"On Sunday morning?" Joe asked, in disbelief.

"Well, he had a few things he needed to take care of," Adam replied evenly. "He wanted to apologize to Mrs. Clary about dinner and speak with the Simmons, you know, see if they needed anything.

"Oh." Joe watched as the eggs were scooped onto his plate, then made a face and looked up at his brother. "Adam," he said glumly. "We just had eggs for supper last night."

"Eggs are good for you," Adam said, scooping another spoonful onto his brother’s plate. "So quit complaining. Here," he handed another plate to Joe, "have some bacon."

Joe’s eyes narrowed with accusation. "This ain’t bacon, it’s jerky."

"It isn’t bacon," Adam corrected, then he sighed loudly. "Look, you’ll just have to use your imagination. Besides, bacon is practically the same thing as jerky, anyway."

It was Joe’s turn to sigh, shaking his head sadly. "Sure wish you knew how to make somethin’ else."

"You know," Adam pointed at Joe with his fork, "when I was your age we considered ourselves lucky to have anything at all for breakfast."

Joe rolled his eyes -- he’d heard that one a million times before -- then watched as Adam slowly raised a forkful of eggs to his mouth and gulped before opening his mouth and eating it. By the look on his face, Adam wasn’t feeling all that lucky to have this particular breakfast.

After several long moments of silence, Adam looked up at Joe with a rueful smile. "Maybe Pa will be able to come up with something a little more appealing for supper tonight."

Joe grinned, shaking his head. "You’d think that fancy college woulda at least learned ya how to cook."

"That fancy college didn’t ‘learn’ me anything," Adam retorted airily. "As for what they taught, well, let’s just say that learning to cook wasn’t high on my list of priorities."

Joe nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it wouldn’t be on mine either." He took another reluctant bite of eggs and suddenly perked up. "Hey, Adam! Since Hoss is sick and Pa went to town, does that mean we don’t have to go to church?" he asked with a little too much glee.

Adam shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. He knew he should at least mention the wrongness with being so joyful about missing church, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. "Yeah, buddy, no church today. Doc Martin said the new preacher is sick anyway."

"So, I can go out and help Charlie again?"

Adam studied the boy’s hopeful expression. Up until then, Joe had always done his best to stay as far away as possible from anything even resembling work. That little newborn filly was turning out to be more valuable than they’d thought. "As long as you don’t get in the way."

"I won’t! I promise!" Joe stood quickly.

"And finish your breakfast."

"Aw, Adam. Just when I thought you were…."

"If I was you, I’d be careful what I said next, baby brother," Adam said, pointing his fork, "or you just might be havin’ eggs again for supper."

_ _ _ _ _

"Adaaam," Joe whined, looking up with mournful eyes. "You just gotta know how to cook somethin’ ‘sides eggs."

"For your information," Adam smiled, lifting the lid so Joe could look into the kettle on the stovetop, "we’re not having eggs."

Joe wrinkled his nose. "Whatever it is, it smells awful."

"It’s bean soup and it does not smell awful."

"It don’t smell like the bean soup Hop Sing makes."

"Well, it’s not, exactly," Adam admitted casually. "We didn’t have any pork, so I had to sort of improvise." He dipped a spoon into the pot, blew on it and offered it to his little brother who was backing away slowly.

"I ain’t eatin’ that, Adam," the boy said resolutely. "No way."

"Suit yourself." Adam shrugged and slurped the spoonful, then grimaced. He’d been so sure the chicken broth would work just as well. "Look, I can’t help it Pa’s sick." Their father had gotten back from town earlier than they’d expected, claiming he was merely tired. His flushed cheeks and glassy eyes told another story however and when he began coughing and rubbing his throat Adam had insisted he go to bed. "It’s either this or eggs."

"I’d rather die of starvation," Joe moaned melodramatically.

"Fine with me."

_ _ _

The next few days were spent trying to keep up with the regular chores. The school was closed due to the influenza outbreak, so Joe stayed home and to Adam’s amazement was actually quite helpful around the ranch. Not only did he do a fair share of the work, but he was so busy ‘tendin’ the foal’ in his spare time, that he actually stayed out of trouble. Ben and Hoss, as well as Hop-Sing, slept almost around the clock, only waking up occasionally to take the prescribed elixir and sip on some warm broth or tea.

Sheba was not bouncing back as expected. Several times they had entered the barn to find the mare lying down, although so far she had always gotten back up at some point on her own.

On Wednesday Adam was forced to take a trip into Virginia City to pick up some important documents that were expected to arrive that day and look them over with their attorney. Thankfully, the members of the Cartwright household seemed to be on the mend, although still restricted to bed rest. Adam offered to take Joe along, but the boy opted to stay home and ‘help Charlie tend the foal’ and since Charlie didn’t seem to mind, Adam left Joe under the foreman’s supervision.

After going over the documents, he picked up few supplies then stopped at the diner to pick up something special for he and Joe. When he saw the new schoolteacher, standing alone waiting to be seated, he had a pang of sympathy for her. He wondered if she’d even had the chance to meet any of the town’s folk, or if she’d been left alone with no companionship since she’d arrived in Virginia City five days ago.

"Well, Mrs. Clary, how nice to see you."

"Oh, Mr. Cartwright, what a pleasant surprise," she replied, sounding pleased. "But, please call me Hannah."

"Only if you’ll call me Adam," he said with his most charming smile. "I was just about to get a bite to eat, would you care to join me?"

"Why, I’d love to join you. In fact, I’d appreciate the company. It’s been a bit lonely with so many of the citizens taken ill and the school being closed."

"Yes, I can imagine." Adam held out his arm and ushered her to a table. "However, I have the feeling that one day soon you’ll be looking back with fondness on these quiet, lonely days."

"You’re probably right," she said, amused. "But for now, I’m just thankful that school is going to resume tomorrow."

They ordered dinner then afterwards sat talking for much longer than Adam had intended to stay in town. He had planned to be home by dinnertime, but couldn’t seem to find it in his heart to leave when she was so obviously longing for another person’s company. When he finally mentioned that he needed to get home to check on Little Joe, she apologized for keeping him so late. "You’re so lucky to have a family to go home to, Adam," she told him, smiling sadly. "Don’t ever take that for granted. If it wasn’t for my own dear sister, I don’t know how I would have gotten through that horrible time."

Uncharacteristically at a loss for words, he could only nod in understanding as he placed his napkin on the table.

"I thought that maybe moving away would make things easier, make the memories more distant, less painful," she said quietly. "But, it doesn’t really matter how far you go, they’re always right there, waiting…." She took another sip of her coffee, then smiled ruefully. "Listen to me, now." She reached across the table and patted his hand. "I do tend to get a bit maudlin at times. Please forgive me, Adam."

"There’s nothing to forgive." If anything, he admired Hannah Clary. However, the subject was stirring up a few painful memories of his own. This type of grief was all too familiar. Had it really been six years ago when Marie’s death had left his father inconsolable? Most of the time, Adam was able to distance himself from those memories, but there were other times, like now, when he felt as if it had only been last week. He couldn’t help but wonder what would have become of Ben Cartwright without his sons to pull him out of the dark pit of despair.

"Well, it is getting late," she finally said, placing her napkin on the table.

Adam escorted her back to the hotel, bid her goodnight and headed for home.

Unsurprisingly, he caught Joe in the act of staying up past his bedtime. He dove under the covers when he heard the click of the bedroom door, but not quick enough to avoid being caught by his brother. He feigned sleep anyway; keeping his eyes closed in spite of feeling the side of his bed dip and hearing his brother loudly clear his throat.

Adam was a patient man, however, not that he needed much patience under the circumstances. He knew his little brother well and he knew that there was no way Joe could keep up the act for very long. After a few brief moments, Joe’s eyelids twitched and slowly opened just a crack. "I know you’re awake, so you can cut the act, little brother."

Joe remained still, but Adam noticed the corners of his mouth turn ever-so-slightly upward. Adam let out a long slow breath. "Well, I guess you leave me no other choice," he said forebodingly, then slowly his fingers descended upon the unsuspecting ribs.

"Adam!" Joe screeched, his eyes shot open immediately as he began struggling against the hands tormenting him. "Stop! Paaaa!"

Mercilessly, Adam continued to tickle the prominent ribcage causing Joe to shriek with helpless laughter. Only after hearing the familiar thunder of his father’s voice coming from the room next door, was he finally encouraged to cease. "You’re lucky Pa saved you," Adam told him, while at the same time, straightening the disarrayed blankets and tucking them under his brother’s chin.

Joe stuck his tongue out then giggled as Adam threatened him again.

"I’m sorry for getting’ home so late," Adam said. "Did you get something for supper?"

"You bet," Joe replied, grinning. "And it wasn’t eggs either!"

"Really?" Adam was almost afraid to ask. "What did you have?"

"Hop Sing and me made some cornbread and chowder."

"Hop Sing and I."

Joe rolled his eyes.

"Oh and by the way, ‘fraid I have some bad news for you."

"Bad news?" Joe pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Like What?"

"School tomorrow."

"Aw." Joe made a face and dropped back into his pillow. "Darn it."

"Yeah, too bad," Adam agreed with feigned sympathy. "You better get to sleep." Once again he smoothed out the blanket, tucking it under Joe’s chin, then he rested his palm on the boy’s forehead for a lingering moment before saying, "Night, buddy."

Joe yawned then smiled sleepily. "Night."

Thursday morning, Adam had to struggle to get Joe to wake up early. Finally he resorted to pulling the blankets completely off of the boy, allowing the bite of the crisp November air to help rouse him from the comfort of his toasty warm bed.

Once dressed, Joe headed outside to do his usual morning chores. Seeming to take longer than usual, Adam was preparing to go out and fetch him for breakfast when he came back into the house, bringing a basketful of eggs. "Sheba’s down," he said, his brow creased with worry. "Charlie says she’s just tired, but that’s not right, is it Adam?"

"Well, it does seem a little strange" Adam frowned, the quickly brightened for Joe’s sake. "But, if Charlie says she’s just tired, I probably wouldn’t worry too much."

Joe didn’t look convinced, but he nodded, accepting his brother’s words for the moment. After he’d eaten a significant amount of the breakfast that thankfully Hop Sing had made, he rose from the table. "I better get going."

Adam reached to take his plate. Hop Sing was doing better, but still not a hundred percent, so the least he could do was clean up after the meal. The thing he hated most about Hop Sing’s being ill was that he was left to wash the dishes. Washing dishes was the most tiresome of tasks and it left his hands sore and chapped. Somebody ought to engineer some sort of device for washing dishes, he’d contemplated each time he was forced to carry out the chore. Images of trays full of dishes being hoisted on a pulley and dipped and churned in a large vat of hot, soapy water came to his mind. He stacked Joe’s plate on top of his own.

"Adam? Will you check up on Sheba while I’m at school?"

"Sure thing, Joe." Not that there was anything he could do that Charlie couldn’t, but Adam agreed, if only to set his little brother’s mind at ease.

"Thanks."

Adam smiled. "You best get going."

Joe pulled his coat on and snatched his hat off the hook. "See ya later!"

"Don’t forget your lunch and your gloves. And, Joe…."

"What?"

Adam grinned. "Have a good day!"

Halfway out the door, Joe caught himself before returning the grin. "How am I s’posed to do that at school?" he asked then quickly closed the door behind him.

"What’s fer breakfast?" A familiar voice called from the top of the stairs. "I’m plumb starved."

_ _ _ _

That afternoon when Joe came into the house, he closed the door quietly, hung his hat on its hook and set his book on the credenza.

"Joseph? Did you have a good day at school?"

Hearing the familiar baritone voice surprised him. Joe whirled around to see his father, with a bemused smile looking up from a stack of envelopes. "Pa! You’re better!"

Ben chuckled, bracing himself as his youngest flung himself into his arms. "Yes, Doc Martin said I’m almost good as new."

Joe squeezed his father as tight as he could. "I missed you, Pa." Over the past five days, while he’d been able to see and speak to his father, Hoss and Hop-Sing, he’d been unable to have close contact with them. Despite already having had the flu, Doctor Martin had worried that because he’d had a light case it might be possible for him to catch it again.

Ben sat down, placing Joe beside him on the settee. "So, how was school? How do you like your new teacher?"

"Oh, she seems fine," said Joe. "I was kinda hopin’ they’d keep school closed all week."

"I’ll bet."

"I mean, just to be on the safe side, ya know?"

"Yes, I’m sure everyone’s welfare is your only motivation for wishing school to be closed."

Joe grinned up at his father. "Well, that’s not my only reason."

"Really?"

"I was kinda hopin’ to get to stay home and help Charlie out in the barn."

"By helping Charlie, you mean fussing over that new filly?"

Joe’s grin grew wider. "Yeah, Pa! Have you seen her?"

"Actually, I’ve been waiting for you, son," Ben said, warmly. "I was kind of hoping you’d show her to me."

"Well, come on then!" Joe struggled to get up, pulling his father by the arm. "What are we waiting for?"

_ _ _ _ _

Friday morning, when Joe went out to the barn to get started on his chores, he found Sheba lying down again, he newborn standing at her side. "Charlie?" he questioned when he realized the hand was standing just behind him. "What’ do ya think’s wrong with her?"

"I wish I knew Joe." Charlie took off his hat and scratched the side of his head. "The doc thinks maybe something ain’t healed up right inside her."

Joe looked up with a worried frown. "But she’ll get better right? Ain’t there some medicine or something we can give her to help?"

"We’ll do everything we can, don’t you worry none."

"But what about her baby? What happens to her if her mama dies?"

"Joe, sometimes these things ain’t up to us." Charlie sighed and laid a big hand on Joe’s shoulder. "I promise we’ll do all we can for the both of ‘em, Little Joe," he said with the utmost sincerity. "You best run along now and get your chores done."

All day at school Joe found it hard to concentrate, he couldn’t stop worrying about Sheba and her filly. By lunchtime he was actually contemplating faking illness just so he’d be allowed to go home. The only thing that stopped him was that he knew he’d be restricted to his bed and not allowed outside at all – either that or he’d get caught in the act and have to face the consequences. Neither scenario was the least bit appealing.

"Look Joe," Rex Dutton said, holding out his cupped hands and giving Joe a peek inside. A little feathered face with two shiny black eyes peered out at him before Rex closed his hands again.

"We’re gonna put it in the new teacher’s desk," Tom Hayden confided in a hushed voice.

Joe’s eyes grew wide. "No foolin’?"

"No foolin’," said Rex, who had just turned fourteen the week before. "We’re gonna sneak in right now. You wanna come with us?"

Joe shook his head. "Nah, you guys go ahead. I ain’t feelin’ so good."

Both boys took a step back, eyeing Joe with suspicion. "You might be gettin’ that flu," said Tom.

Joe shrugged. "Might be."

"I don’t wanna get sick," Rex said, backing towards the school.

"Me neither." Tom agreed. "We’ll see ya later."

Later on when Mrs. Clary heard the strange sound coming from her desk and opened the drawer, Joe couldn’t help but smile when the bird flew out at her. He didn’t get the usual satisfaction though and when the teacher and all the girls started screaming, Joe was only too happy to help shoo the bird out of the schoolhouse.

When he got home from school, he went immediately into the barn and found his Pa and Hoss talking with Charlie. Sheba was standing again, which seemed like a good sign to Joe, but by the looks of concern on the other men’s faces, Joe again became worried. When he got closer to the mare, he noticed her breathing was labored and there was a bad smell coming from the stall.

"What’s wrong?"

"The doc thinks she has an infection," Ben told him gently.

"But she’s standin’ up again. That’s good ain’t it?"

"Well, maybe…." Charlie answered. "But, it might not be enough, Joe."

"What do you mean?" Joe dropped his book to the ground, kneeled down and began stroking the filly’s soft neck.

"If she’s got a bad infection, chances are we might not be able to save her Joe," said Hoss. "We’re worried about that little filly too. We’re tryin’ to decide whether or not we should let her keep nursin’."

"But, she’ll die for sure if she don’t!"

"It will certainly be risky," Ben admitted, kneeling beside his youngest. "But it could be even more risky to let her keep nursing."

"But, Pa," Joe pleaded. "What’ll she do? She’s so little."

"Yes, she is." Ben stroked the small filly. "All we can do is hope that she’s nursed long enough to give her a fighting chance, son."

Joe wiped his shirtsleeve across his eyes.

"Why don’t you go get a bucket of goat’s milk, Joe," said Ben, resting his hand on the back of his son’s neck. "We’ll try that out for now."

"Okay, Pa. I’ll do anything to help."

Ben smiled, his dark eyes filled with warmth. "We’ll all work together, son. Okay?"

Joe nodded, a little spark of hope lighting his face.

Friday when he left for school, Sheba was down again and her little one wasn’t taking to the goat’s milk they’d tried. The school day seemed interminable to Joe.

Mrs. Clary was short tempered after the prank Rex and Tom had pulled the day before. Rex hadn’t shown up for school, but that didn’t stop her from taking out her displeasure on the rest of the class. They were dismissed for the weekend with twice the amount of homework they were used to getting.

Joe was already in a dark mood when he got home. When he went into the barn, he softened a bit seeing Hoss seated on a barrel, attempting to coax the filly to drink from a bucket. The filly looked up, her nose dripping milk. "You’re s’posed to drink it, not drown yourself, ya silly thing," Hoss cajoled, softly.

Looking around the barn, Joe got a sinking feeling when he noticed that Sheba was gone. "Hoss?"

"Hey there, little brother."

"Where’s Sheba?"

"Come here and look at this little scallywag," Hoss said, ignoring Joe’s question.

Joe walked over and knelt down, watching as the filly dipped her muzzle back into the bucket. She slurped for a moment before plunging half her face into the milk. Hoss laughed and pulled her out again. "Believe it or not, she’s gettin’ the hang of it...sorta, anyway."

Joe knew that Sheba was gone. He held back angry tears. It didn’t seem fair that this poor little baby was left an orphan. The truth was, the baby’s chances of survival were not very good without its mama. Most of the time, colts this young died. Well, not this time, he vowed to himself. Not if he could help it. He was gonna do everything he could to make sure this baby grew up to be a beautiful horse, just like her mama.

Later, their father insisted they come inside for dinner. But afterwards, to their surprise, he gave into their pleas to spend the night in the barn. With plenty of warm blankets, Hoss and Joe headed out to the barn to keep watch over their new charge.

_ _ _ _

Saturday morning, they were awakened by the sound of several horses entering the yard. Rubbing his eyes, Joe sat up as Hoss yawned loudly and shook his head, trying to force himself awake. Joe peeked out the barn door to see Rex Dutton’s pa talking to his pa on the porch and a small group of men, looking much like a posse, still in their saddles.

"I wonder what’s goin’ on?" Hoss said, coming up beside Joe to look outside. They watched their father shake hands with Mr. Dutton who turned and mounted his horse. Ben stood watching, a dark look on his face, as the men rode out of the yard. Then he started purposefully toward the barn.

"Pa? What was that all about?"

"Seems Rex Dutton never came home from school yesterday. He’s been gone all night and his pa’s getting a few men organized to go looking for the boy."

"But Pa," Joe said. "Rex wasn’t even at school yesterday."

"That’s odd. Do you have any idea where he might have run off to?"

Joe’s brow furrowed as he tried to think of a place Rex might be likely to hide out. Unable to come up with anywhere -- other than maybe the hayloft of a friend’s barn, he shook his head. "I can’t think of nowhere he’d go -- not for a whole day and night."

"I’m sure someone will find him." Ben gave Joe a half smile and turned to go inside.

"We’re gonna help search ain’t we, Pa?" Joe asked, his eyes imploring.

"I figured that Adam and I would go," Ben told him, then a look of understanding washed over his features. "I guess you’d probably like to ride along, too, being that he’s your friend."

Joe nodded.

"I guess we’ll all go then," he said. "Why don’t you boys get the horses ready, then come inside and have some breakfast."

"Pa." Joe reached for Ben’s arm. "Can I ride Copper?" If he rode his pony, he’d look like a little kid and he doubted the pony could keep up with the other horses anyway. Sometimes, though, his pa let him ride Copper.

Ben smiled. "Of course, Joseph."

After searching for only a couple of hours, the party noticed a gathering of low-flying carrion and rode toward it with an impending sense of dread. They were no less than horrified at the sight of Rex Dutton’s twisted, mangled body lying on the rocky ground below Eagle’s Nest.

A few of the men gasped, a few took off their hats and bowed their heads, the rest had to close their eyes or turn away. Rex Dutton Senior made a low, anguished sound and Ben moved up alongside him, placing a firm, supportive hand on his shoulder.

The sound of rapid breathing drew Adam’s attention away from the gruesome scene. He looked over his shoulder to see the white face of his youngest brother, whose terror-filled eyes seemed locked on the grisly form that had been his friend. Adam pulled on his reins, maneuvering his horse to stand directly in front of Joe, blocking his view. Joe’s gaze remained fixed as if he could see right through his brother.

A moment later, Ben dismounted and took the bedroll from his saddle, unrolled it and covered the body, which seemed to trigger the others into action. Two other men, along with Mr. Dutton, moved to kneel beside the body and hesitantly began securing the blankets around it.

Roy Coffee tilted his head back and looked up toward the niche at the peak of the high cliff. Hoss sidled up to his two brothers then turned his head, following the sheriff’s line of sight. "Adam?" he said, as he looked up at the peak. "What do ya reckon that boy was doin’ way up there to begin with?"

"I wish I knew, Hoss."

Hearing the question his brother asked, Joe tipped his head back, allowing his gaze to travel upwards. His eyes grew wide when he recognized the familiar rock formation. This was the place he saw in his dream – his very, very worst dream, the one that frequently caused him to wake up screaming for Pa. It was always the same, him at the very top, stricken with fear because he could feel himself sliding down the smooth stone, unable to find anything sufficient to grab onto. And Pa’d be there, talking to him, telling him it’s okay, to let go and take his hand, but Joe would be too afraid to let go. He’d want to let go, want to believe Pa, but he just couldn’t make himself do it….

Adam was relieved when Ben finally walked over to the three of them. As much as he would have liked to stay and offer whatever help he could, he was hoping his father would order them home. They needed to get Little Joe out of there.

Ben looked up at Joe and immediately chastised himself for allowing his young son to witness as much as he had. "Joseph," he said in a harsh whisper, grasping the boy’s leg.

Joe startled a bit and dropped his gaze, but remained silent and still.

"Adam, I want you to take your brothers home. There’s more than enough men out here and really, there’s nothing more we can do right now." With a minute gesture toward Joe, Ben sought his eldest for a sign of acknowledgment of his concern.

Adam nodded his understanding.

Tugging the reins of Joe’s horse, Ben prompted it to turn in the opposite direction then patted the boy on his leg. "Joe, I want you boys to go on home now, okay?" He smiled, encouraged when the boy finally made eye contact with him.

"Pa?" Joe’s voice quivered and he blinked owlishly at his father.

Once again, Ben wondered what had possessed him to allow his baby son to accompany them in the first place. "You go on, now. Pa will be home soon."

Joe nodded, then as Ben watched, the boy’s eyes slowly lifted upward, coming to rest once again at the peak of Eagle’s Nest.

"Come on little brother," Hoss spoke up. "We best get home and check on that filly. She’s probably gettin’ a might lonely without havin’ you there to fuss over her." Joe’s attention was immediately diverted. He looked sharply to his older brother and nodded, as if just now remembering the filly existed.

How does Hoss always know exactly the right thing to say, Ben wondered, letting the pride and approval he felt shine forth in his eyes. Joe prompted his horse to move forward as the other two boys flanked him on each side and Ben watched the three of them ride away.

Roy Coffee came up beside Ben, took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, then replaced the hat.

"What do you think Roy?" Ben asked, watching his sons ride in the distance.

"Looks to me like the boy fell from the peak up there," Roy surmised, again glancing up to Eagle’s Nest. "What he was doin’ up there to begin with is beyond me."

"That body hasn’t been lyin’ there for two days though," Ben speculated, turning to watch as Rex Dutton Sr. carefully laid his son’s body across his saddle.

"No, there wouldn’t have been much left to claim if’n it had," Roy agreed, then he sighed and looked at Ben with regret. ‘Havin’ two young’uns die in two weeks time is a might hard to swallow. Just doesn’t seem right."

"Do you suspect there was foul play involved?" Ben asked.

"I can’t say for sure yet. I’ll probably have to call it accidental for now," the sheriff admitted, shaking his head, "unless someone can tell me different."

_ _ _ _ _

When Ben got home later that afternoon, the sound of Joe’s delighted laughter drew him to the barn. Joe, Hoss and to his surprise Adam, were all gathered around the little orphaned colt, trying to coax her to drink goat’s milk from a bucket. Ben watched as she stuck her face into the bucket then pulled back quickly, milk dripping from her nose. Joe laughed again -- the sound lifting Ben’s spirits -- and the horse leaned closer to the boy, curiously nuzzling his face and leaving behind a wet trail.

"Pa!" Joe cried, noticing his father standing near the door. "Look! She’s takin’ to the goat’s milk!" Then he wrinkled his nose and wiped his cheek. "Well, she’s startin’ to anyway."

Ben kneeled down beside his youngest and put an arm around him, pulling him close. "It takes time and patience, son."

"Yessir, Pa." Joe beamed at him, then turned back to the colt and began trying to tempt her with the milk.

"From the looks of things, you’re doing a fine job, Joseph."

"Thanks, Pa."

"Well, since you three seem to have everything under control, I think I’ll go inside and freshen up a bit," said Ben, giving Joe another squeeze before standing up. "I trust you boys will be in for dinner?"

"Sure thing, Pa!" Hoss answered for everyone. "I’m about starved."

"I think I’ll head inside with you, Pa," Adam said amiably. "Looks liked these two have a handle on things."

Joe seemed perfectly happy for the rest of the day. At dinner they talked mostly about the colt. Ben spoke encouraging words, assuring Joe that a colt that’s taken its mother’s milk for several days has a much better chance than one orphaned at birth. Although Joe had already assumed responsibility for the colt, Ben formally gave her care over to Joe. "It’s a big responsibility, son. Raising a new colt is going to take a lot of work."

"I know, Pa!" the boy responded enthusiastically. "I promise I’ll take good care of her."

"I trust that you will, son."

The rest of the evening went smoothly. Ben didn’t mention their earlier ordeal of finding Rex Dutton’s body. Joe asked once to sleep in the barn again, when Ben told him he wanted him to sleep in the house, Joe gave only the slightest of protests before easily acquiescing.

"Can I at least go check on her one more time before I go to bed?" he asked.

"Alright son, but make it quick."

It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that the effects of the day made themselves known. Joe’s screams woke up the entire household. "Pa!" he cried desperately, clinging to his father as if he were a lifeline.

"Shhh…it’s alright, son." Ben rocked the trembling boy gently in his arms. "Pa’s here."

_ _ _ _

After school on Monday, Joe hitched his pony and rushed into the barn, anxious to see how the colt was doing. The day before she had eaten well and to Joe’s pleasure seemed to be coming along much better than had been expected. But still, whenever he left her, the fear in the back of his mind, that she’d take a turn for the worse, would grow steadily until he got home and could be reassured by the sight of her.

"So’d ya have a good day at school?" Hoss asked, looking up as he raked out one of the stalls.

Joe was standing beside his colt, stroking her face. "It was okay," he answered vaguely then brightened. "Terry Mitchell got in big trouble!"

"Oh yeah? What fer?"

Joe turned to his older brother, grinning. "You know how we always have to do that dumb play every year?"

Hoss made a face. "Yeah."

"Well, Terry got hold of the readers and you ain’t gonna believe what he did!" Joe giggled and the colt nudged him for attention.

Hoss waited with anticipation.

"He lit them on fire!" Joe said, turning back to the colt. "The whole lot o’ them!"

Hoss gulped, looking completely astounded.

"He woulda got away with it too," Joe said over his shoulder, with a little too much admiration. "If’n he hadn’ta burned his hand."

"Well," a humorless voice from behind interrupted. "I hope his pa burns his behind."

"Hi Adam."

"Those books were very valuable, you know," Adam continued. "And I’m not talking only monetary value. Anyone with half a brain should know better than destroy something as valuable as Shakespeare. I better never hear of you pulling a fool stunt like that."

_ _ _ _ _

"You wanna ride home with us?" Tom asked, Wednesday afternoon, as he and Terrance Mitchell unhitched their horses from the post.

Joe had already mounted his pony, anxious to get home and check on the filly. He really ought to think up a name, it seemed odd callin’ her The Filly all the time.

"Nah," said Terrance. "I gotta go run errands for the preacher. Part of my punishment for settin’ fire to those books."

"That preacher scares me." Seth Pruitt said as he joined the other boys.

"Me too," Tom agreed, glancing toward the church then shuddering dramatically.

"He ain’t so bad," drawled Terrance, scuffing the toe of his boot into the dirt. "You’d probably like him Joe," he said, looking up. "Considering where he’s from."

"Oh, yeah, where’s that?" asked Joe, sitting up in his saddle.

"New Orleans, just like your mama."

"Really?" Joe perked up. "He told you that?"

"Yep."

"I don’t care where he’s from," said Seth. "He’s scary."

"If you say so." Terrance shrugged. "It don’t make no matter anyway, I still gotta go over there and see what he has for me to do for my restitution."

"Restitution? What’s that?" asked Joe with a frown.

"It’s a means of payin’ for your mistakes. If you wrecked a house or something that costs a lot of money, most times, you’d have to work it off," answered Tom then he grinned. "Unless your last name is Cartwright."

The boys chuckled and Joe scowled at them, then stuck out his chin. "That ain’t true, Tom."

"Settle down. I’m just teasin’." Tom put his hands up in surrender. "Don’t’ get all worked up."

"Ya know, I still can’t believe you did it, Terry!" Seth cut in, looking at the other boy with admiration. "Settin’ fire to those books, I mean, who’d have ever thought of doing such a thing?"

Terrance shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. "You all know I hate havin’ to do that awful play every year."

"But bein’ the oldest boy, you’d have got to be Romeo this year! Think of all the gals who woulda been chasin’ after you just for that alone." Tom shook his head.

"And don’t forget about who woulda been your Juliet." Seth good-naturedly punched him in the shoulder.

"Mary Engleheart!" the boys all chimed dreamily at once.

"Don’t’ remind me," groaned Terrance. "She said she’s not speakin’ to me ever again."

"Don’t worry." Seth grinned broadly. "She’ll speak to ya someday, maybe in a hundred years or so."

"Now boys," Tom interrupted, draping an arm across Terrance’s shoulders. "Leave poor Terrance alone. We owe him that much for gettin’ us out of havin’ to do that play."

"Yeah," Joe said. "Besides, look who’s comin’ this way." All the boys turned to find a tall man dressed in a black suit walking toward them.

Joe eyed the somber-looking man as he came up beside Terrance. Reverend Budreaux was very tall – even taller than Hoss. Unlike Hoss though, he was slender and lanky -- all arms and legs, with graying hair and beard. From the way he looked, Joe guessed he was a serious man, but he actually didn’t seem all too scary right now. He seemed even less scary when he smiled at them and the fact that he didn’t seem the least bit mad about Terrence’s dallying made Joe wonder if they’d all been wrong about him.

"Hello, Terrance," the reverend greeted kindly. "Boys."

"Hi Reverend Budreaux," said Terrance. "I was just on my way to the parsonage."

"I see that," he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

"I was tellin’ Joe, here, that you’re from New Orleans just like his ma was."

With a tilt of his head, the reverend looked up at Joe. "Your mother is from New Orleans?"

"Yes, sir, she was."

"Joe’s mama…." Tom attempted to save Joe from a painful explanation, but Joe waved him off, giving him a quick smile of gratitude.

"My mama had an accident and she…well, she died when I was a little kid."

The reverend’s expression softened and he gave Joe an understanding nod. "I’m sorry to hear that, son."

"Thank you, sir." Joe smiled at the man. "Sometimes my pa tells me stories about when he met my mama down in New Orleans. He brought her here to the Ponderosa ‘cause it’s a much better place to raise a family." Joe’s eyes grew wide and he looked a little uncomfortable. "Um, I didn’t mean anything bad, I just…."

"No offense taken, son." The reverend smiled broadly, then winked at Joe. "I just-so-happen to agree with your pa. New Orleans is gettin’ to be the devil’s playground."

Joe just kept looking at him, silently encouraging him to go on, but the reverend turned to Terrance. "Well, are you ready to get to work?"

"Sure."

"It was nice talkin’ with you, boys." Before he turned to leave though, the reverend looked up at Joe. "Stop on over to the parsonage sometime if you feel like learnin’ a bit more about New Orleans. I have several daguerreotype portraits and stereoscopes of the landscape and architecture and other mementos as well."

"Really?" Joe asked excitedly. "You wouldn’t mind?"

"I wouldn’t mind at all." Putting a hand on Terrance’s shoulder, he said, "Shall we?"

"See ya around," Terrance called over his shoulder, tugging his horse’s reins and leading it toward the parsonage.

"I’m ready to go, Seth."

The boys all turned to see Sara Simmons standing beside the hitching post.

Joe noticed that Seth actually blushed before looking up shyly.

"I promised her pa that I’d see her to school and back, since…you know." He shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

"That’s right sweet of you, Seth," Tom said, batting his eyelashes dramatically.

"You just shut up Tom Hayden, or I’ll give you a fat lip!" Sara shouted, balling up her fist threateningly.

Joe giggled. "How ya doin’ Sara?"

"I’m doin’ just fine, Little Joe," she answered sweetly, before turning back to scowl at Tom.

"Sorry, sorry!" Tom said, raising his hands in surrender to the tiny girl. "I was only teasin’."

"Come on, Tom," said Joe. "Some of us have chores to do."

When Joe got home, he headed straight for the barn, as usual. He waved to Charlie and C.J. who were out in the corral.

"Hey Little Joe!" Charlie called out. "You best grab a bucket o’ milk. I swear that little filly’s got four holler legs. With the appetite she’s got she’s gonna put your brother Hoss to shame."’

Joe grinned and went quickly into the barn where he grabbed the bucket, stopping momentarily to greet the little filly.

"The little filly…" he said thoughtfully. "We’re gonna have to think up a better name for you than that, ain’t we girl?"

Joe spent the rest of the evening and half the night trying to think up a suitable name for the new colt. He wanted something that would tie her to her mama, something that told where she came from.

Hoss had named Sheba, but calling the baby Sheba just didn’t seem right. He just knew there had to be something fitting and he fell asleep that night thinking of possibilities.

Early Thursday morning, while he lay in his warm bed, on the brink of waking up, the name simply popped into his mind out of nowhere. It was a perfect name. He couldn’t think of a better name if he thought for a hundred years. Cochise.

At breakfast he wondered if he should announce that he’d come up with a name for the colt, but decided against it. He also would have liked to tell his pa about the conversation he’d had with Reverend Budreaux, but his pa and Adam seemed oblivious to his existence and Hoss was wholeheartedly intent on his breakfast. Joe nibbled at a slice of buttered toast and pushed his scrambled eggs around a little for appearances, then gulped his milk down and placed his napkin over his plate. "Pa?"

His father and Adam continued arguing over what to do about a group of men who had started mining for silver on the edge of their property. Pa wanted to let them alone and Adam wanted to boot them off the land.

"Pa?" he repeated at the next brief lull in conversation.

"What is it Joseph?" Ben snapped peevishly. Turning toward his youngest son, he was immediately repentant. "I’m sorry, son," he said more gently. "What is it you need?"

"Umm…may I be excused?"

"Are you sure you’re finished eating?" Ben glanced at his son’s plate and noticed the remnants of his meal were conveniently covered. He reached over and removed the napkin then gave the boy a stern look. "Joseph."

"I’m full, Pa."

"You hardly ate anything."

"I drank all my milk," he replied hopefully.

Ben hesitated a moment before letting out a loud sigh that conveyed his displeasure.

"You wouldn’t want me to be late for school, would ya Pa?" He asked with a wide-eyed innocent look.

His father’s eyes narrowed, but he finally acquiesced. "Go on with you, then."

"Thanks Pa!" Joe scooted his chair back and sprang away from the table.

"Joseph."

"Yes Pa?"

"Have a good day and be careful, son."

Joe ran back and gave his pa a quick hug, then waved to his brothers. "Bye Adam, bye Hoss!"

As soon as Joe got to school, he sensed something was not right. Everyone was seated at their desks, Sheriff Coffee was there, along with Terrance Mitchell’s mother and older sister. "Now, we just have a few questions we need to ask you all," the sheriff said, hitching his thumbs through his belt loops. "You all know Mrs. Mitchell and Maddie?" The children nodded, every set of eyes in the classroom fixed intently on the sheriff. "To get right to the point, Terrance never came home last night and his folks want to know if any of you has seen him?"

The children began murmuring quietly amongst themselves.

"Anyone?"

"The last time I saw him was after school," Seth spoke, then stood up. "He was with the reverend."

_ _ _ _ _

Before the Cartwright’s had even sat down for breakfast Friday morning, Roy Coffee showed up with the news that Terrance Mitchell’s body had been found a couple hours ago at the bottom of Indian’s Leap.

"We checked there yesterday," said Hoss, looking confused.

"I don’t understand it either," admitted Roy. "We were all over that place and found no sign of that boy anywhere. But sure enough that’s where we found him this morning."

Ben looked at his youngest son who was absently rearranging the food on his plate as he listened attentively. His eyes were wide and he looked a bit too pale for Ben’s comfort. "Joseph," he said gently, putting his hand on top of Joe’s. "Since you apparently aren’t planning on eating your food, why don’t you run out to the barn and check on…" he paused a moment, frowning thoughtfully, "someone really ought to name that poor horse."

"School’s cancelled today," Roy told them. "We’re havin’ a town meeting concerning the deaths of those three boys."

Joe looked at the sheriff, brief elation flashed across his features before the realization hit him. He nodded to his father and to the sheriff and got up from the table. He hesitated. "Pa?"

"Yes, Joseph." Ben turned his attention to Joe.

"About namin’ the colt."

"Yes?"

"I kinda…well, I already thought up a name for her," he said quietly, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Is that so." Ben tilted his head expectantly.

"If it’s okay with you," Joe added quickly.

"Well, don’t keep us in suspense, boy." Ben smiled.

"Well…I kinda been callin’ her…Cochise."

Ben looked thoughtful for a brief moment then nodded approvingly. "I think that’s a fine name, son." He looked to Adam and Hoss who were both smiling. "Much better than ‘the little filly’."

Joe smiled back at them, relieved. "I remember you tellin’ us that Chief Winnemucca got Sheba from Cochise and she was the same kind of horse that he rode."

"Yes, that’s right son."

Joe fidgeted, trying to get past his discomfort. "I wanted her to have a name that reminded her of her mama."

"That’s a wonderful idea, Little Joe." Ben’s dark eyes were warm with understanding. "I think you’ve come up with a perfect name for her."

"Thanks Pa," the boy said, pleased. Then he slipped his coat on and headed outdoors.

"Pa," Hoss began, as soon as he heard the door close. "You notice anything odd about the way Little Joe’s been actin’ lately?"

"How do you mean, son?"

All eyes turned to the young man who had suddenly taken an uncharacteristic disinterest in his breakfast.

"Well, he ain’t said one word about those boys bein’ killed. Anytime it comes up, he just starts in about somethin’ else."

"Maybe he’s just preoccupied with that new horse out there," Adam suggested.

"No." Ben shook his head, a distant look in his eyes. "I think Joseph doesn’t quite know how to deal with everything that’s happened. It’s a lot to take in, even for an adult. I think taking care of that horse has helped him cope with everything. I’m thankful he’s had something to take his mind off this ordeal."

"Don’t ya reckon someone oughtta talk to him about it though?" Hoss asked, shooting a worried look toward the door.

"Not right now, son," Ben sipped his coffee, "I think it’s best to wait, at least ‘til after the meeting. Then the four of us can sit down and have a meaningful discussion after supper."

_ _ _ _

Upon arriving at the town meeting, the Cartwrights filed into the noisy, crowded room, opting to stand against the back wall when they found there were few empty seats. A few moments later, Sheriff Coffee, Doctor Martin and a few other men entered the building and the crowd quieted as they walked to the front of the room.

"I’m sure you all know why this town meeting has been called," Sheriff Coffee began. "Three young men have died in the past couple weeks and although we have no witnesses, or no real evidence, well…that’s just too many to keep callin’ it a coincidence."

"It’s about time you decide to do something!" Someone shouted from the center of the room, causing the crowd to begin mumbling amongst themselves.

"Now, just settle down," the sheriff hollered over the increasing noise. "Behavior like that ain’t gonna accomplish anything."

"Well, what is gonna accomplish something?" another voice called out. "Do we have any suspects? Does anyone know anything new?" The crowd grew noisy again, until the sheriff whistled loudly and glared at them all.

"The only thing we know is that the boys were apparently alone when they were accosted," Paul Martin spoke up. "If they were indeed accosted."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Terrance Mitchell’s father stood up.

"Just calm down, Ted," Paul said calmly. "I’m only reminding everyone that we don’t know for certain what happened to those boys."

"Well, if you ask me, I think it’s kinda funny how these boys start dyin’ just about the same time the new preacher showed up," said Rex Dutton.

Joe looked at the reverend who was obviously shocked, even horrified.

"Don’t you dare start pointin’ fingers unless you have some sort of evidence," Roy stepped closer to Rex Dutton, Sr. "You oughtta be ashamed of yourself sayin’ an awful thing like that about a man of the cloth."

"But Sheriff," Seth Pruitt raised his hand as if he were in school. "I saw Terry with the reverend right before he disappeared."

"I know that son," replied the sheriff, "but that ain’t no proof that he did anything to harm the boy."

"If I may," Ben moved toward the front of the room.

"Sure Ben." Roy gestured for his friend to step forward. "Be my guest."

"Instead of making unwarranted accusations," offered Ben, turning to face the crowd. "I think we ought to be focusing our attention on coming up with some ideas to keep the children safe…at least until we have some real evidence."

"Ben’s right," agreed Paul Martin. "I think we need to make sure the children get to and from school safely. If we aren’t able to escort them, then we need to make sure they stay in groups. None of them should be alone, under any circumstances, until we have this figured out."

"The most important thing is that we prevent any more harm comin’ to our children," Roy emphasized.

Later that evening, the four Cartwrights sat in front of the fire, Ben reading a book, while Adam walloped Hoss in a game of checkers. Little Joe was reclined on the settee, his stocking feet tucked beneath Adam’s thigh, quietly trying to memorize the list of presidents for Monday’s test. He liked to get all his homework done on Friday, so he didn’t have to think about school at all on the weekends. Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Adams, Jackson, Van Buren, Harrison, Tyler, Polk, Taylor, Fillmore…or was it Taylor, Polk, Tyler, he wondered.

"Joseph?"

"Yes, Pa?"

"I’ll be riding along to school with you Monday morning and one of your brothers will be there to pick you up," explained Ben. "You’re not to leave the schoolyard under any circumstances, until one of us is there. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Joe looked at him earnestly.

"Good." Ben smiled warmly at him and shifted in his chair. "I’m afraid this is the way things will be until we’re sure it’s safe again." Joe nodded and started to pick up his book again. "Son, is there anything you’d like to talk about?"

"No, Pa."

"I just thought with," he made a vague hand gesture, "everything going on, you might have some concerns, or questions, or…something you might like to talk about. Is there anything on your mind, son?"

Joe glanced at each of his brothers then back to his pa. "I don’t know."

"You don’t know…what?" Ben asked tentatively.

"Um…." Joe licked his bottom lip, his eyebrows drawing together. "I just…I don’t know what to think, Pa," he said helplessly. "It ain’t that I don’t care, it’s just that…well, none of it seems real."

"Well, son, I can certainly understand that," Ben replied reasonably. "With everything that’s happened, I imagine it would be hard, especially for someone your age, to come to terms with it all."

"I just can’t hardly believe they’re…" he swallowed hard, "they’re gone, you know? I keep thinkin’ they’re gonna be at school and everything is gonna be the way it was, again."

"That’s perfectly normal, Joe," Adam said, placing his hand on Joe’s knee. "Everyone, even grown ups have a hard time accepting death. It just takes time."

Joe nodded. "I feel bad, because I know I should be more sad," he tilted his head, looking uncertain, "but I can’t help it."

"A person can’t help feelin’ what he feels, little brother," Hoss told him. "I can’t say that I want to see ya feelin’ sad, but if ever ya do, well…I just want ya to know I’m here for ya."

They all sat silently for a while then Ben cleared his throat and attempted a smile. "Joe, we all just want you to know that whenever you feel the need, your brothers and I will always be here for you. No matter what."

"Thanks, Pa." Joe returned his father’s smile, thankful that he had a pa and two brothers who loved him.

"Now, I think it’s time you get ready for bed, young man."

"Aw, Pa. Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do. It’s getting late." A moment later, the grandfather clock chimed eight times as if to prove his point.

"Okay, okay." Joe rolled his eyes, got to his feet and set his book on the coffee table. "Night Adam, night Hoss."

"G’night little brother," the two older brother’s called out in unison.

Joe grinned at them then said, "Night Pa."

"I’ll be up to tuck you in," said Ben.

That night, Joe’s screams, once again woke the entire house. Ben was well acquainted with Joe’s nightmares; they usually revolved around the boy’s fear of heights. Joseph would launch himself into his father’s arms and hold on for dear life, trembling and begging for Ben not to let go. But, this time was different. When Ben went in to comfort his son, Joe fought him, struggling desperately to get away. "No!" he screamed in terror. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"Joseph," Ben pleaded, holding his son tightly against his chest as Adam, thankfully entered the room and lit the lamp. "It’s alright, son. You’re all right. Pa has you; nobody’s going to hurt you. Shhh…."

The boy struggled a few moments longer, then began to calm as his father continued murmuring reassurances in his ear. Ben loosened his hold and looked down once he felt the boy relax. "Better?" he asked, kindly.

Joe nodded, still obviously distressed and confused and not entirely awake.

Gently, Ben wiped the tears from his son’s eyes as he continued rocking the boy in his arms. A few minutes later, to his amazement, Joe closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.

_ _ _ _

On Monday morning, school resumed almost like normal, except it wasn’t like normal. All of the kids were to be taken to school and picked up by an adult, or they were supposed to stick together in groups.

The day was oddly quiet although Mrs. Clary seemed to try hard to make everything seem normal. When she informed the class that someone had anonymously donated several printed copies of Romeo and Juliet and then began discussing the play, Joe was not the only one to groan and slide down in his seat.

"Tom," she said, "You’re the oldest boy, so I’d like you to play Romeo."

Tom rolled his eyes, obviously not interpreting the assignment as one of honor as the teacher had intended it be. "Yes, Mrs. Clary," he responded dully.

"Mary, you already know that you’re going to be Juliet, this year," the teacher said with a sweet smile.

While Mary Engleheart looked like she was going to burst with pleasure, Tom simply looked disgusted.

"You’ll need to explain to your parents that we’re going to begin practice this week," Mrs. Clary continued. "It will be for one hour after school, three days a week."

"Three days?" Joe questioned aloud.

"Yes, Joseph," she answered, then picked up her paper and gave the boy an appraising look. "I think you’d make a wonderful Tybalt, Joseph."

"Ty-who?" Joe asked, looking a little green around the gills.

"Tybalt. It’s an important role and I’ll bet your older brother would be willing to help you with the part," she told him with a knowing smile.

She was right, of course. Adam seemed to think this play was important, for some reason that Joe couldn’t even begin to comprehend. In fact, Joe wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find out that his own brother was that ‘nonymous fella Mrs. Clary said gave them the stupid books. There was muffled snickering throughout the classroom and when he looked around he realized it was directed at him. It was all Adam’s fault.

After school both Adam and Hoss were waiting for their younger brother.

"So how’d school go, little brother?" asked Hoss, handing Joe the reins once he’d climbed up onto his horse.

Joe shot him a disgruntled glance. "She’s still talkin’ about that dumb ol’ Romeo and Juliet."

"I thought you said someone had set fire to all them books?" Hoss gave him a questioning look.

‘Terry did, but someone ‘nonymous gave her more." Joe glanced suspiciously at his oldest brother. "You wouldn’t know anything about that would ya, Adam?"

Adam snorted and coaxed his horse forward. "I had nothing to do with it, buddy, but I’m glad to hear it." Joe rolled his eyes, but that didn’t dissuade the older brother. Adam grinned. "It won’t hurt any of any of you to learn a little Shakespeare and maybe it’ll take everyone’s mind off other things."

"Whatever." Joe waved a hand, hoping to put an end to the lecture. A moment later, her asked, "Who’s Tybalt?"

"Tybalt?" Adam tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "He’s one of the Capulets. Juliet’s cousin. Why?"

"That’s what she picked me to be," he answered none too happily.

"That’s an important part, Joe," Adam said, grinning. "You should feel honored."

"Well, I don’t."

"This, by his voice, should be a Montague. Fetch me my rapier, boy," Adam recited, his voice deep and resounding.

Joe was not impressed. "I ain’t sayin’ that."

"Well, look on the bright side," Adam said enthusiastically, ignoring his brother’s stubbornly set features. "You’ll get to carry a rapier."

Joe’s lip curled in disgust -- whatever that was. Probably something silly and embarrassing, otherwise Adam wouldn’t look so happy about it. "I ain’t carryin’ no rapier."

"Do you know what a rapier is?" Adam asked, looking too pleased with himself.

"No." Joe pulled the brim of his hat down, his only means of escape.

"Why, it’s a sword, little buddy," Adam said with a chuckle.

Joe’s eyes grew round and he pushed his hat back to look at his big brother. "A sword? Honest?"

Adam tugged his little brother’s hat back over his eyes and both he and Hoss laughed as they prodded their horses to go faster down the road. Joe grinned and followed them, thinking this play might not be so bad after all.

_ _ _ _

"Solemnity," Adam offered.

Joe thrust Adam’s book back in his hands and stomped over to his father’s chair. "I ain’t sayin’ that, Pa!"

Ben chuckled and gave his youngest a consoling pat on the arm, then pulled him close to his side. "Son, Mrs. Clary must think mighty highly of you if she’s given you the responsibility of this part."

"Responsibility?" Joe asked, puzzled.

"Yes, it’s a responsibility. She’s depending on you, Joseph and I’d hate to think you’d want to let her down."

"But, Pa," Joe countered. "What about my responsibilities here? What about my chores and takin’ care of the new foal and all the stuff you’re dependin’ on me to do here?" he asked looking hopeful.

"Well, son," Ben said thoughtfully. "It’s only for a short period of time. No need to worry about things around here. I’m sure we can work something out."

"But, Pa…."

"Now, Joseph," he interrupted, giving the boy a firm squeeze. "Mrs. Clary’s having a tough time, what with all of the things that have been going on lately. Keep in mind she’s new around here and she’s trying real hard to do a good job, in spite of everything. She’s counting on you to help her out with this." He paused waiting for some sort of response but getting only another frown. "And, I’m counting on you too, son."

"Pa…." Joe whined.

"I’m counting on you to be cooperative and on your best behavior."

"Yes, sir."

_ _ _ _ _

"Practice is to begin tomorrow afternoon," Mrs. Clary informed them before school let out Tuesday. "So, be sure to tell your parents you’ll be staying a half hour late on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays for the next few weeks."

"I can’t stay late tomorrow, Mrs. Clary," Tom explained, putting a palm to his forehead with comically pained expression. "I think I feel a fever comin’ on."

"Is that right, Thomas?" Mrs. Clary replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes’m," he answered, adding an exaggerated coughing spell for good measure.

"Well, we can only hope that you have a miraculous recovery by tomorrow morning. In fact, maybe I’ll stop by and give your mother my secret cold and flu remedy," she offered sweetly. "It’s down right horrible tasting stuff, but the end results are well worth it."

Several of the children giggled and Tom looked obviously uncomfortable when he replied, "I think I’m feelin’ better already."

On Wednesday morning, however, Tom Hayden was nowhere to be found. "If Tom is really that opposed to being Romeo, I guess we’ll have to pick someone else." Mrs. Clary seemed a little disappointed, but resignedly she appointed Seth Pruitt to take over Tom’s part as Romeo. Seth seemed no more pleased with the news than Tom had been.

Thursday morning Joe arrived at school to find the sheriff speaking with Mrs. Clary at the front of the classroom. School went on as usual, but Mrs. Clary seemed nervous and Joe noticed her looking out the window several times throughout the day.

Hoss alone picked Little Joe up from school that afternoon. "Pa and Adam rode out with Mr. Hayden and some others to look fer Tom. He never showed up at home last night," Hoss explained as gently as he could.

Joe nodded grimly, unsurprised by the news.

"His pa said he was fit to be tied over havin’ to be in that silly play. Thinks maybe he took off."

Joe gave his brother a halfhearted smile and the two of them rode towards the ranch. Joe hurried through his chores and spent the rest of the afternoon tending Cochise. Spending time with her was the only thing that made him feel happy these days. The two boys washed up when Hop Sing called them to supper.

It wasn’t until later that evening that Ben and Adam finally came home. They’d found Tom Hayden’s body at the bottom of Indian’s Leap. Joe listened to his pa give the details while he stared into the fireplace. Then he excused himself and headed up to bed.

_ _ _ _

When Friday morning came, Joe almost dreaded entering the schoolhouse. The feeling was justified when he noticed the empty seat where Seth should have been sitting. For a few minutes he simply focused on swallowing, trying to resist the urge to throw up what little he’d eaten for breakfast. Seth Pruitt was the toughest boy he knew and Joe had looked up to him for as long as he could remember. If Seth was gone, Joe didn’t know if he could stand it.

Sunday at church, the reverend’s sermon had been about being thankful for the people and things that the Lord graces us with – for whatever time he sees fit and that we should never be angry with the Lord, even if things don’t seem fair at the time.

"The Lord knows what’s best for us," Reverend Budreaux told the congregation. "And we should thank him for his blessings and always remember that He is with us always, in all circumstances."

Before the service was over, he also announced that because of the tension and ill feelings, he didn’t believe he was able to do any good for the community. "I’ll be moving on at the end of the week," he explained. "A new parson will be coming in on the Saturday afternoon stage. I’ve prayed about this and I feel the Lord is guiding me in the right direction. It’s my hope and prayer that the new parson will be better able to help you all heal from this dreadful ordeal and with his guidance and the Lord’s, you’ll eventually be able to find peace."

Joe was still taking the reverend’s words to heart, trying to be thankful for all his blessings and not dwell on the bad things going on, but it was hard. Especially now that Seth was gone.

The day went by slowly and Joe found it hard to keep his attention on the assignments. His mind kept drifting to other things, Seth most of all, but he also found himself looking at the other empty seats. There seemed to be huge, gaping holes where each of the lively, mischievous boys had sat.

"Your homework this weekend is to gather all the information you’ll need to make your family tree," Mrs. Clary said when the school day was drawing to an end.

Joe yawned and looked out the window, then shifted on the hardwood bench seat.

"You may ask for help from your parents, or siblings, family friends, or anyone else you’d like."

That sounded easy enough to Joe. He already knew lots of stuff about his family.

"Joseph?"

"Yes’m?"

"Do you have any questions?" the teacher asked.

"Uh…no, ma’am."

Libby Perkins leaned closer to him, squinted an eye and whispered accusingly, "That’s ‘cause you weren’t even listening."

"Was too," Joe whispered back. Whatever had possessed the teacher to arrange their seats in a boy – girl fashion was beyond him. "Guess you’ll be takin’ a trip to the zoo this weekend, huh Libby?"

Libby frowned at him. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"That’s where all your relatives live, ain’t it?"

Her frown deepened and as predicted the girl’s hand shot into the air. "Mrs. Clary!"

"Yes, Elizabeth?" the teacher acknowledged with strained patience.

The girl stood up and pointed at the boy beside her, who was now slumping lower in his seat and blushing furiously. "Little Joe said my relatives lived in a zoo!"

"Joseph," the teacher said with exasperation, rubbing her temples as the classroom erupted into a fit of giggles.

"I was just teasin’," Joe admitted quietly, with a shrug. "Sorry."

"If you can’t say something nice…." The teacher trailed off, knowing that Joe was well aware of the rest of the sentence.

"Yes ‘m."

Closing her eyes for a moment, Mrs. Clary kept rubbing her temples then nodded at Joe before turning her attention back to the rest of the classroom. "On Monday, I’ll expect you all to have the information you intend to use to illustrate your family tree. Being that I’m feeling a bit ill today, there will be no rehearsal after school. If you’re to walk home be sure to stay in groups and if you’re to wait for someone to collect you, please stay in the schoolyard. Class is dismissed. Try to have a nice weekend."

_ _ _ _ _

The teacher watched as Little Joe Cartwright disobeyed her and darted up the hill toward the parsonage. That boy, she thought with amusement. If he weren’t such a charmer he’d be more trouble than he was worth. She sat down at her desk and began massaging her aching forehead. "Addie, what are you doing here?" she asked when she noticed the other presence.

"That’s a fine way to greet your sister."

"I’m sorry, but I thought you went away."

"I have one more thing I need to take care of," said Addie. "Then we will both be going away."

"Oh, Addie."

"I found a lovely new town. It’s just perfect for us."

"But Addie…."

"No arguments, little sister."

"But, I want to stay here," pleaded Hannah. "I like it here."

Addie shook her head. "Oh, little sister," she said fondly. "When are you gonna learn that I know what’s best for you?"

_ _ _ _ _

Joe knocked on the door to the parsonage behind the church. "Reverend Budreaux?" He had to hurry, before Pa or Adam came to get him. Rehearsal only lasted for a half an hour and if it was Adam coming to get him, he liked to show up early and watch sometimes.

"Well, Little Joe." The reverend answered the door, a smile appearing on his face as he greeting Joe warmly. "I didn’t expect to see you before I left."

"Rehearsal was cancelled today," Joe explained, removing his hat. "Mrs. Clary said she ain’t feeling too good."

"Well, come in then." The reverend gestured for Joe to enter. "I’m glad you came by, I have something I’d like you to see." He led Joe to a table where there were some pictures stacked and a funny looking contraption called a stereoscope viewer. "These are pictures of Louisiana," explained the reverend. "Mostly New Orleans, but some other places as well." After Joe had looked at some of the pictures, the reverend turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "Does your father know where you are?"

Joe shrugged then looked guiltily down at the floor. "Well, not exactly. They won’t come to fetch me for a half hour."

"You shouldn’t disobey your father, Joe."

"I know," he said, his features showing a hint of remorse. "I just wanted to…well, to say goodbye."

"I’m honored that you wanted to tell me goodbye, but don’t you think your father might be worried if he should happen to find you’re not where you’re supposed to be?"

"Yeah, I s’pose you’re right." Joe frowned and began fiddling with his hat. "Well, I guess I’ll be goin’ then." He stood up from the table. "Thanks for showin’ me the pictures. Um….I wanted ya to know that I’m real glad to have met ya and I’m real sorry for what those other folks been sayin’," he said earnestly.

"Well, thank you, Little Joe," the reverend said, kindly.

"My pa says they’re just lettin’ their anger get in the way of their good sense and they don’t really mean all them things they been sayin’."

"Your pa sounds like a very wise man, Joe." The reverend opened the door and smiled down at the boy. "Don’t you go worryin’ about me. I’ll be just fine."

_ _ _ _

"Mrs. Clary?" Joe shouted, running into the schoolhouse.

"Yes, Joe?" the teacher answered, stepping out of the new cloakroom holding a wooden plank.

"Where’d everyone go?"

"Mrs. Clary leaned the board against the wall, folded her arms and gave him an admonishing look. "Your father and brothers were here looking for you a while ago. They’re very worried."

"Oh great." Joe closed his eyes. He was in for it now.

"I’m sure they’ll stop back shortly. In the meantime, I could use your help if you would be so kind."

Joe wondered briefly if he shouldn’t go out and try to find his pa and brothers, then thought it couldn’t do no harm for him to be found helping Mrs. Clary since Pa seemed to think that was important to do. "Okay."

"Good," she said cheerily. "Why don’t you come in here and hold this board for me? After I get it nailed in, I can put these hooks up so everyone can hang their coats up in here."

Joe narrowed his eyes. "Ain’t that s’posed to be man’s work?" he asked, disbelievingly.

"Well, when you’re all alone, you learn to do lots of things for yourself, Little Joe," she replied, picking up the board again.

Joe felt sorry he’d said anything.

He was about to follow her into the cloakroom when the front door swung open. "Joe! I’m glad you’re still here…." Reverend Budreaux called out. "I almost forgot to give you this." Joe turned around and saw the preacher smiling and holding something in his hand. He was about to respond, when suddenly everything went black.

_ _ _ _ _

It had been two days since his youngest son had been injured and still the boy slept on. Ben was becoming more than just worried, but he wasn’t ready to give up on Joe’s ability to recover in spite of the doctor’s words of caution. Paul Martin had pulled him aside that morning and quietly informed him that the longer Joseph remained unconscious, the less likely it was that he’d wake up at all. Ben respected the doctor and any medical knowledge he offered was always held with the highest regard, but this was Little Joe and Ben couldn’t even begin to imagine his high-spirited, youngest son being anything other than the bundle of mischief he was known for being.

The morning of the third day, after checking Joe over again, Paul closed the door to his room so the other two boys couldn’t overhear their conversation. "Ben, you’re doing a wonderful job of taking care of him for the time being, but you need to at least consider making preparations for his care, in the event he doesn’t get any better."

"What are you talking about, Paul?"

"There are facilities that specialize in the long term care of patients…."

"How can you even suggest such a thing?" Ben cut him off, whispering harshly.

"Ben, just listen to me," Paul tried again.

"No, you listen to me. My son will be staying here with me, on the Ponderosa, no matter what happens. I refuse to send him off to some…institution! You should know me better than that."

"I do, Ben," the doctor attempted to reason, "but taking care of someone in that condition is a big responsibility."

"My son’s care is my responsibility, not that of some stranger."

"Yes, but he’s going to need…."

"He’s going to need his pa," Ben answered sharply, then sat down on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes for several seconds, struggling to get his emotions under control. Finally he opened his eyes, appearing much calmer than a moment before and smiled, albeit grimly. "He’s going to need his pa, because he’s going to get better, Paul. I appreciate your concern, but I’m a long way from giving up yet."

Paul nodded, knowing when to stop pressing. "Well, he is known for being stubborn."

"Yes, he is," Ben said, smiling for real as he gazed down at his precious child.

Paul took off his glasses, seeming intent on polishing the lenses. "Can’t imagine where he gets it from."

Ben chuckled as he stroked the curls from Joe’s forehead. "You get that from your mama, don’t you, son?" he murmured, ignoring the answering snort from across the room.

_ _ _ _ _

Later that afternoon, Joe became restless. His father and brothers were immediately at his side.

"Joe?"

He could hear his Pa’s voice, but his head was hurtin’ so bad, he wanted to bury it under the pillow.

"Little Joe? Can you hear me, son?"

Joe thought Pa’s voice sounded kind of strange. Waking up in the morning had never been easy for Joe, but this particular morning he seemed to be having more trouble than usual getting his eyelids to cooperate.

"Come on, that’s my boy," Pa said, his voice sounding a little more steady. "Open your eyes for Pa, you can do it."

"Pa?’" Joe finally managed, albeit weakly.

Ben smiled down at his youngest son. "Yes, Joe. It’s Pa."

"’m late?" He wondered aloud, then tried to struggle to his elbows, finding it impossible to do with his head weighing way more than he knew it should.

Placing a restraining hand on his son’s chest, Ben shook his head. "Keep still, son."

"Wh…what’s a matter?" Joe asked, his throat felt almost as dry as his mouth.

"You took a quite a blow to your head, Joseph," Ben informed him, resting his palm tenderly on the boy’s forehead. Then he smiled and casually asked, "Don’t you remember?"

Joe thought hard. He remembered…the last thing he remembered was going to school Friday. Something had happened? And somehow he’d ended up in bed? "I don’t ‘member, Pa."

Ben glanced away and then Joe noticed that his brothers were standing beside his bed, looking as worried as Pa was trying not to look. Something really bad must have happened. Joe closed his eyes and tried to think back on what he’d done after getting to school. He’d sat down like usual. He remembered feeling uneasy about something…. "Seth."

"Seth is fine, son."

"Fine?" He’d thought for sure Seth was dead; he opened his eyes and looked up at his father.

"He’ll probably have a difficult time sitting down for awhile," Ben continued, lightly. "But, aside from that he’s fine."

Joe nodded, then winced at the pain the slight motion had caused.

"Seems Seth was less than thrilled about playing Romeo," Adam provided. "So he ran off. The search party found him hiding out in that cave you boys like to go to."

"Yeah," Hoss added with a puzzled expression, "you’d think if he was gonna run off, he’d come up with a better hidin’ place than that. Shucks, everyone knows that’s where all you boys like to hang out."

‘All you boys….’ He closed his eyes and remembered the group of them sitting around a small fire just outside of their cave. Terry Mitchell pulling out his corncob pipe and handing it to Tom, who stuffed it with tobacco. All of them had passed the thing around, each fighting the urge to gag on the horrible taste. Although, no one had admitted it, Joe had known the older boys felt just as queasy as he had. That was the first and last time they’d experimented with that particular vice. Joe had gone home with a headache and thrown up for the rest of the evening. Pa had never said anything to him about it, but Terry and Tom both had got lickin’s from their pa’s.

Were they really gone?

Joe wasn’t feeling so good. His head hurt worse than it ever had before and his throat and chest hurt, too. He felt strange, shaky. In fact, it felt like his whole bed was shaking. His pa was talking to him, but the voice sounded far away. Then he felt cool, gentle fingers combing through his hair and he drifted off again.

_ _ _ _ _

For the next few days Joe remained unconscious for the most part, only waking for a few moments at a time and never seeming quite coherent. Doctor Martin had assured Ben that just the fact that Joe could be roused was a good sign and that sometimes sleep was better than any medicine he could prescribe.

Sometimes, Joe could hear his pa and brothers talking to him, but he just felt too tired to answer. Still, he liked hearing them talk; he liked the sound of their voices. His pa was always saying how much he loved him and telling him he was going to be feeling better real soon and then they’d do something special together.

He could count on Hoss to give him regular updates on Cochise and fill him in on other happenings around the ranch. "Every time I walk into the barn, I swear that filly looks around fer you, little brother." Joe wondered if Hoss was telling the truth or just trying to make him happy. "If’n ya don’t believe me, just ask Hank and Charlie. You best get yourself better real quick, ‘cause she’s missin’ you somethin’ terrible."

When Adam would come in, he’d spend a long time talking. That was Joe’s favorite time and he’d try hard to stay focused on his oldest brother as long as he could. Adam would tell him about college and Boston and the things he’d seen and done while he was away. One time, Adam started sounding real sad. He talked about how much he’d missed his family and how much Joe had grown while he’d been gone. He told Joe he loved him and was proud of him and that he wished he wouldn’t have had to miss out on all those years. Then he said, "You better get well real soon, little buddy. I just got you back and I’m not about to let you go again." Joe’s throat felt real tight when Adam was talking that time because he’d never realized his brother felt so much for him.

The next thing he knew though, Adam was telling him a story and it had only taken Joe a minute to realize it was Romeo and Juliet. Why would Adam tell him he loved him one minute and then set out to torture him the next? If he lived to be a hundred, he doubted he’d ever understand his older brother.

Frequently throughout the day Hop Sing would talk to him. Each time he’d come in to raise Joe’s head and help him drink some broth, or change his bedclothes, he’d have something amusing to say. "Little boy too skinny," he’d scold as he ran a warm, damp cloth across Joe’s collarbone and chest. "You need wake up and eat. I make fried chicken, special for you, as soon as you wake up." He was able to hear the cloth being wrung out into a bowl, then feel the warmth trail down his arm. He had to admit it felt good. "House too quiet," Hop Sing continued. "Father and brothers too quiet. Everyone quiet. Need little boy to wake up and make noise." The damp cloth was replaced with a towel as Hop Sing began drying him off. "Everyone unhappy, even Hop Sing," he’d admitted. "Need little boy wake up soon and make mischief." That brought the slightest of smiles to Joe’s face – he’d have to remind Hop Sing of that the next time he got in trouble. Joe had fallen back to sleep listening to the familiar voice.

_ _ _ _

"…gotta know what happened, Ben." This time it was Sheriff Coffee’s voice that brought Joe back from the quiet, pain-free place he had been in his dreams.

"I understand that, Roy," Ben replied testily. "But he’s in no shape to undergo this type of questioning. Doc Martin said so himself."

"Ben, I understand your concerns but this is a man’s life we’re talkin’ about."

A man’s life?

"This is my son’s life we’re talking about too, Roy."

"I know that, Ben," the sheriff responded in a harsh whisper. "Do ya really think I want to put him through anything else?"

Joe managed to open his eyes once more. It must be nighttime, he thought, noticing the curtains were closed and the lamp was on. He had no idea how long he’d been sleeping.

"Besides, Doc Martin said it’d be fine just as long as we kept it short, so’s not to tire him out too much."

Joe cleared his throat and both men immediately turned their attention to him. "Joseph, son, how are you feeling?" Ben sat down on the edge of the bed.

"’m thirsty, Pa." He cleared his throat again, but it didn’t do much good.

"Here you go, son." Ben cupped the back of his neck, lifting his head slightly and held a glass of water to his lips. Joe took a few eager sips, then let his father settle him back against the pillow.

Joe looked questioningly from his father to the sheriff then back again.

Now Ben cleared his throat and began fussing with the blanket. "Joseph, Sheriff Coffee has a few questions he’d like to ask you." Ben shot a meaningful look in the sheriff’s direction. "That is, if you feel up to it."

Joe couldn’t imagine what the sheriff would want to question him about. For a moment, he wondered if he’d done something wrong. He looked at his father and could see no reproach in the dark, loving eyes, so he figured even if he had done something wrong, his pa wasn’t too mad about it, least ways not right now. He nodded, noticing that his head didn’t hurt near as much as it had the last time he’d woken up.

Sheriff Coffee took a step closer to the bed and smiled fondly at the boy. "Little Joe, I just have a couple o’ questions I need to ask ya, okay?"

Again, Joe nodded. Sliding his hand out from beneath the covers, he reached for his father. Ben clasped his son’s small hand between both of his own and gave Joe an encouraging smile.

"Do you remember what happened to you last Friday after school?" asked the sheriff.

Joe’s forehead was scrunched as he struggled to recall any details from the day. Then a thought struck him and he looked at his pa. "Last Friday? What day is today?"

"Well, son," Ben answered calmly, "today is Thursday. You’ve been asleep for nearly a week, Little Joe."

"Gave us all quite a scare, son," added the sheriff.

A whole week? That was such a long time; he could hardly believe anyone could sleep for a whole week.

"Joe, do you remember anything from last Friday?" Ben interrupted his thoughts.

Again Joe tried to engage his memory. He remembered Mrs. Clary giving them homework and him wishing school was over so’s he could get home to… "Cochise! Pa?"

Ben chuckled and rubbed the boy’s arm comfortingly. "Cochise is just fine, Little Joe."

Joe nodded and went back to his remembering. "Mrs. Clary gave us homework," he said thoughtfully, then snapped to life. "I remember! We’re s’posed to make a family tree!"

"That’s good, son. What else do you remember? Anything after that?"

"Well, Libby Perkins said I wasn’t payin’ attention, but I was, Pa," Joe stated solemnly.

"Yes, I’m sure," Ben replied dryly.

"I don’t know why teachers always make fellas sit next to girls, do you, Pa?" Joe asked, looking perplexed.

"I’m sure they have their reasons." Ben patted the boy’s hand.

"They’re just a bunch of bossy know-it-alls -- girls, I mean – ‘specially Libby Perkins."

Ben rolled his eyes. "Joseph…."

"Oh, right." Joe licked his lips. "I remember Mrs. Clary said she didn’t feel too good." It was all coming back to him now. "I think she had a headache, ‘cause she was rubbin’ the sides of her forehead like you do sometimes, Pa."

Ben nodded at his son, the cause of a good many of his headaches.

"So she said there wasn’t gonna be any rehearsal after school and we was s’posed to wait all together in the school yard for our folks to come for us." Joe trailed off, suddenly looking wary.

"Did you wait in the school yard?"

With a heavy sigh, Joe shook his head. "No, sir."

"Where did you go, son?" Ben asked after a moment of silence.

"Well, um…I went to say goodbye to the reverend ‘cause he was leavin’ the next day." Joe took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking worriedly at his father. "I’m sorry, Pa."

Ben squeezed his hand and nodded. "We’ll discuss that another time, Joseph. Can you tell me what happened next?"

"Reverend Budreaux showed me some real live pictures of New Orleans, Pa. He showed me the buildings and a theater and the Mississippi River and the Gulf of Mexico!"

"That’s nice, son. I’m glad you got to see those pictures," Ben said earnestly. "Do you remember anything else?"

"We talked for a little bit, then he said I best get goin’ so I don’t worry you none. But, when I got back to the school everyone was already gone." Joe frowned and rubbed his forehead as he tried to put the next events in order. "Mrs. Clary was there and she said…you were lookin’ for me and I should stay there and help her ‘til you came back." Joe closed his eyes for a few seconds then opened them again. "I didn’t know if I should go find you or stay there, but then I ‘membered you said we should be helpful to Mrs. Clary so I stayed to help her like I knew you would want me to." He hoped that would earn him some sort of merit whenever Pa decided to have that discussion he’d just mentioned.

The bemused look on Ben’s face told him things were up in the air.

"Then…I think that’s all," Joe said uncertainly. "Wait, Reverend Budreaux was there…he came to the school." Boy, his head was startin’ to feel really thick, so he closed his eyes and curled into his father’s thigh. "I thought it was you, but it wasn’t and then…."

Ben rested his hand on the side of Joe’s head and quietly asked, "Is that all you remember?"

Joe nodded and promptly fell back asleep.

_ _ _ _ _

"So, what’s your other two boys up to today?" asked Roy as he sat down at the Cartwright’s table.

"They went into town to see Mrs. Clary off on the stage."

"It’s a shame she decided to go."

"Yes," Ben agreed. "But I can’t say I blame her, in light of everything that’s happened."

"Poor thing, she was real good with the children too."

Ben nodded. "She came here to try and heal, to make a new life, but instead…."

"Well, hopefully she’ll find some peace out there in uh…Ohio."

"Iowa."

Roy shrugged. "Yeah, well, things ain’t lookin’ so peaceful for that preacher," he remarked, shaking his head.

"No, they’re not." Setting a cup of coffee in front of the sheriff, Ben joined him at the table. "I have to admit, I was sort of hoping Joseph would have something to offer in his defense."

"Not much hope of that, seein’ that we have an eyewitness, but I know how ya feel, Ben." Roy took a sip from his mug. "No one wants to believe that a man of the cloth could be responsible for such…heinous acts."

Ben nodded thoughtfully and took a sip from his steaming mug. "Still, technically he hasn’t been found guilty, yet."

"Only a matter of time, though."

"Yes, I know."

"I can’t believe he tried to accuse that poor woman," Roy said with disgust. "She was nearly out of her mind with worry for Little Joe and always protective of the school children, makin’ sure they stayed safe."

Ben shrugged. "A man will grab hold of anything in desperation."

"I suppose," replied the sheriff. "Still…."

The two men were silent for a time, sipping their coffee and contemplating the entire ordeal, until Adam and Hoss came through the door in a hurry. "Sheriff," Adam said breathlessly, "Pa, we just got back from town. There’s been trouble down at the jail."

Both Roy Coffee and Ben stood quickly. "What do you mean, Adam?" asked Ben.

Adam glanced from his father to the sheriff. "Roy, someone’s broke into the jail, they knocked Deputy Brady over the head and…." Adam swallowed and looked back to his father. "The reverend is gone."

"What do you mean, gone?" Roy questioned, anxiously. "Escaped?"

Adam shook his head grimly.

"Lynch mob," Ben guessed, his voice filled with disgust. "You better get going, Roy." He placed a hand on each of his son’s shoulders. "Adam, Hoss you ride along with him, see if there’s anything you can do to help."

"Sure thing, Pa." They hurried out as fast as they’d come in.

"One more thing, boys," Ben called to them from the door as they climbed into their saddles. "Your little brother woke up again awhile ago." Ben couldn’t suppress his relieved smile, in spite of the present circumstances, so he couldn’t fault either of his sons for the same offense. "He talked up a storm before he fell asleep again. I really think he’s going to be alright."

"Did ya hear that Adam?" Hoss whooped, then swatted his older brother’s arm. "He’s gonna be alright!"

"Course he is," Adam chided, while grinning madly. "Just like I’ve been tellin’ you all along."

"Be careful," Ben called out, still smiling as they rode out of the yard.

_ _ _ _ _

Later that evening when Adam and Hoss returned to the house, Ben could tell by their expressions that nothing good had happened.

"We found the reverend, Pa," Adam spoke first. "At the bottom of Indian’s Leap."

"They done pushed him off just like he did to them boys," added Hoss.

Ben closed his eyes, trying to push away the image that came to his mind. "Did you catch the men responsible?" he asked after taking a calming breath.

Both men shook their heads. "They was long gone by the time we found him," said Hoss, hanging his hat next to Adam’s. "And Deputy Brady says he never got a look at whoever it was that cold-cocked him."

"And I doubt that the townsfolk will be all that eager to find the responsible party," Adam admitted as he placed his gun belt on the credenza. "Let alone bring them to justice."

Ben knew that was the truth and he could only pray that their consciences would torment them appropriately, for a long time to come. "Well." Then clearing his throat, he attempted to change the mood. "There’s someone upstairs who’s been anxious to see the two of you."

"Little Joe’s awake?" Hoss asked, grinning broadly.

"Yes, he was eating his dinner the last I checked."

"So, he really is going to be okay." Adam looked up the stairs in wonder.

That same moment, Hop Sing started down the stairs carrying a tray. He smiled when he saw Adam and Hoss then looked at Ben. "Eat all his dinner, ask for father and brothers."

"How’s he doin’ Hop Sing?" Hoss asked with hope-filled eyes.

"Little boy doing much better," he replied sounding unusually cheerful. "Not stop talking since he wake up. Talk very much. Have much to say to make up for all time he sleep."

Ben laughed heartily, his spirits lifting. At least for now, the rest of the world seemed far away.

When they entered Joe’s room, they caught him in the middle of a huge yawn.

"Looks like someone’s finally wearing down," Ben said gazing tenderly at the boy as he rubbed his sleepy eyes.

"Hey punkin’." Hoss grinned and sat on the edge of the bed. "How you feelin’?"

"I feel lots better!" Joe answered, trying but failing to hide his weariness. "Where ya been all day?"

"Out doin’ your chores, buddy," Adam joked, seating himself on the other side of the bed.

Joe made a face. "Maybe I’ll be good enough to do ‘em tomorrow."

"We’ll have to see about that." Adam winked and patted him on the leg. "Right now, I think the only thing you need to worry about is closing those eyes and getting some sleep."

"Aw, I’m not tired." The protest was immediately followed by another yawn.

"Not tired, huh?" his father questioned.

"Well, maybe a little."

Hoss chuckled, leaning closer to his little brother. "I sure am glad to see you’re better. You gave us all a real scare."

Joe suddenly looked uncertain. "I-I didn’t mean to, Hoss."

"I know that. Don’t you worry about nothin’, Joe," Hoss said, with a reassuring grin. "I’m just glad you’re okay. You get some sleep and I’ll see ya in the mornin’, okay?"

"I don’t wanna sleep," Joe complained, shifting on the bed, trying to stay awake while his traitorous eyelids drooped.

"I know, son," consoled Ben. "But Doc Martin says you should get lots of rest."

Joe stuck out his lower lip, but didn’t protest again.

Hoss stood up and headed for the door, while Adam remained beside Joe, seemingly unable to take his eyes off of him.

"Adam, I’m going downstairs to get a cup of coffee," Ben said, patting his eldest on the shoulder. "Why don’t you tuck Joseph in?" Bending down, he brushed his lips over the sleepy boy’s forehead. "Goodnight Little Joe."

"Night, Pa."

As soon as their father was out the door, Joe looked up at his brother. "Adam?"

"Yeah, buddy."

"Will you tell me a story, like ya used to?"

"If you promise to close your eyes." Adam situated himself so he was next to Joe and leaned back against the headboard, stretching his legs out on the bed. "What story do you want to hear?"

"Anything," Joe said, curling into his big brother’s side, "‘cept Romeo and Juliet."

"Okay," Adam said slowly. He thought for a few moments, then scratched the side of his head and looked appraisingly down at Joe. "Once upon a time, there was a king who had three daughters." Joe smiled and snuggled closer to him. "Well, the king was getting on in years and was no longer up to taking on all the duties and responsibilities that were expected of a king. So he came up with a plan to divide his kingdom among his three daughters. Now, the king had a lot of land, he was very rich and he wasn’t quite sure which daughter should get what." Adam looked down expecting Joe to be asleep but instead, his little brother was enrapt in the story. "He thought about it for awhile, then finally decided that he’d give the best parts of the kingdom to whichever daughter he figured loved him the most…."

_ _ _ _

"I keep tryin’ to remember what happened, but I just…I just can’t."

"That’s okay, son," Ben tried to assure. "Doc Martin said you might never remember what happened."

"But you don’t understand, Pa. What if…what if they do it again?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I’m a…." Joe looked up at his father with imploring eyes.

"There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, Joe," Ben said gently, realizing that Joe had never been told about the reverend. "But I promise you, there’s nothing to fear. The person who hurt you can’t hurt you anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"He’s dead, son."

"Who? Who did it?" When his father hesitated, he added, "I just gotta know, Pa."

Ben took several seconds, trying to figure out the best way to explain the story. Finally, he put his hands on Joe’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Who’s the last person you remember seeing?"

"The last person?" Joe looked puzzled. "The reverend?"

"Yes, Joe. It was the reverend. You said you remembered him holding something."

Joe nodded.

"Well, you were hit with a board, son. It was laying right beside you when we found Reverend Budreaux kneeling over you."

"But…." Joe’s face screwed up in confusion. "But Pa, he wasn’t holding the board, Mrs. Clary was."

"What?"

"She wanted me to help her nail it to the wall in the cloak room, so she could put up new hooks."

"Joseph," he said, unintentionally tightening his hold on the boy’s slim shoulders. "Are you sure?"

"Course I’m sure, Pa. The reverend was holding…" Joe squinted his eyes, "I can’t remember what it’s called. Ya look at pictures through it, though."

_ _ _ _ _

"Hello, Roy."

"Ben, how are ya?" The sheriff reached out to shake his friend’s hand.

"Fine, just fine," replied Ben, acknowledging the stranger seated beside the desk with a nod. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, no. This here’s Marshal Quincy Jameson." Roy gestured from the marshal to Ben. "Marshal, this is Ben Cartwright."

"Nice to meet you, marshal," Ben said after briskly shaking hands with the marshal. "Roy, I need to talk to you. It’s Joe. He’s remembered something else about the day he was…injured." He glanced uncertainly at the marshal. "It might be important."

"Funny, we were just discussin’ that case."

"You were?"

"Yep, from what the marshal here says, this ain’t the first place that killer’s struck." He turned to the marshal again. "It was Ben’s boy we found him standin’ over. Thankfully Little Joe didn’t end up like the rest of those boys."

"You said: him?"

"Him?"

"The killer, you referred to the killer as him," specified the marshal. "Is that right?"

"Well, yes," answered Roy.

"Roy, that’s exactly what I’ve come to tell you about," Ben tried to explain.

"Well, if your killer was a man," Marshal Jameson said thoughtfully. "Then it’s not the person I’m looking for."

Ben looked from the marshal to the sheriff. "Little Joe said it was Mrs. Clary, the teacher, who was holding the board, Roy. Not Reverend Budreaux."

"Wait a minute, what did you say?" the marshal interrupted again, standing to look intently at Ben. "What about the teacher?"

Still wary of this stranger, Ben hesitated before answering. "Uh, well, we thought the reverend was responsible for my son’s injury, partially because the last thing he remembers before being knocked out, was seeing the reverend holding something in his hand." Again, he looked back and forth between the sheriff and the marshal. "He’s been trying to recall the incidents leading up to his being injured and well, I just now told him about the reverend and mentioned that he’d been hit with a board. I explained to him that it must have been the board he remembers the reverend holding," Ben closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "But, you see…Joseph told me just now that it was Mrs. Clary, not the reverend, who was holding the board. The reverend was holding some photograph viewer. Apparently he was planning to give it to Joe."

"Now that ya mention it," Roy said, scratching his head, "he did have that viewer in his possession when we put him in the jail. He kept insistin’ I make sure to get it to Little Joe."

"Can you describe this Mrs. Clary?" The marshal cut in again.

"Yes, she’s about this tall," Ben said holding his hand a little higher than his shoulder, "has sort of auburn hair, brown eyes, a medium build. I’d say she looked to be in her…."

"Mid-thirties?" the marshal answered.

"Yes, I’d say so, wouldn’t you, Roy?"

"Well, yeah…."

"By chance, did she go by the name Anna?"

"No," answered Ben. "Hannah, Hannah Clary."

"Recently lost her family?"

"Yes."

"That’s her."

"Hold on a minute!" Roy shouted, his face turning a bright shade of red. "What are you sayin’?"

"I’m saying that woman is the killer I’ve been trailing for over a year now."

"Are you sayin’ a woman killed those boys?"

Jameson nodded, jaw set firmly. "Not only those boys but several other boys in other towns, as well."

"But…why? How?"

"Maybe we’d all better sit down," said the marshal, returning to his chair. "This is a long story."

When Ben Cartwright and Roy Coffee were seated, Quincy Jameson began. "For me it all started a little over a year ago. You see, Mrs. Anna Clausson…known to us as Mrs. Abigail Conner came to teach school in Sacramento City, where my son Michael and I lived." The marshal looked down and in a quiet voice added, "My wife was taken from us shortly after Michael’s birth."

"We’re sorry to hear that," Ben said with complete understanding.

Marshal Jameson nodded gratefully. "Like I was sayin’, not too long after Mrs. Conner came to teach, our boys started dying. Of course, like here, nobody suspected her. Fact is, folks felt sorry for her, being that she’d recently lost her family and all. Over the next two months, five boys, my son Michael included, were found dead at the bottom of a bluff several miles up the river. Well, about a week after Michael’s death, Mrs. Conner turned in her resignation, saying that under the circumstances she could no longer perform her duties and booked a stagecoach out of there. Being that I was the one responsible for upholdin’ the law in those parts, I had no choice but to pull myself together and start investigating the deaths more carefully. Mrs. Conner was the last person I would have suspected, but when no more deaths occurred, something kept telling me to check her out more thoroughly." The marshal pulled a pipe from the inside of his jacket, packed and lit it then took several puffs before continuing. "So, I did a little backtracking and found that similar deaths had occurred in Marysville nine months earlier and six boys had been killed in Klamath eight months before that. When I got to Klamath, I learned the whole story of Mrs. Anna Clausson."

Ben rode home with a heavy heart. The tale Marshal Jameson had told them had left him feeling angry and confused, among other things. Not only were the citizens of Virginia City guilty of allowing a killer to ride off into the sunset, free to kill again. But they were also guilty of taking justice into their own hands and murdering an innocent man -- a man of God, no less.

In spite of the heinous crimes the woman was wanted for, each time he pictured Hannah Clary in his mind, the image was of a sweet, soft-spoken woman with a kind face, not a dangerous, vengeful, child killer.

How could they all have entrusted her with their children’s care? Even more perplexing was that Virginia City was only the latest in a mysterious series of deaths and the killer was still at large. The marshal seemed to think she murdered for the sake of revenge. Preying upon the more outspoken, mischievous boys because they reminded her of the boys who had, either intentionally or unintentionally, caused the death of her son.

From what the marshal said, her young son Jeremiah had been bullied by a group of adolescent boys who apparently went too far one time and caused the boy to fall to his death from a high ledge. There had been an inquiry, but being the boys were underage and they had all claimed it was an accident, they were not charged. They’d been released to their parents without having to face trial.

Outraged over what she perceived to be a lack of justice, Anna Clausson had ultimately appointed herself judge and jury and without anyone suspecting, she’d one by one pushed those boys to their deaths on the very same ledge. But, that hadn’t been the end of it. When her husband became suspicious of her behavior, he’d gone to the sheriff. Up until then, Matthew Clausson and his wife had been considered upstanding citizens. Because of that, the sheriff had felt a bit of sympathy toward the couple and given Mr. Clausson a chance to attempt to coax his wife to turn herself in.

That same night, however, the Clausson’s home had burnt to the ground. Only the remains of Mr. Clausson had been found, but both were assumed dead – that is, until the marshal began investigating and eventually identified the woman.

"After that," the marshal had said, "I took a leave of absence from my duties as sheriff of Sacramento City, was sworn in as a Federal marshal and began trying to track Anna Clausson in the hope that I’d find her and prevent any more deaths. Unfortunately, the next lead I received was a wire from Stockton with details on the mysterious deaths of four adolescent schoolboys. That was four months ago and she was already gone by the time I got there. "

"And we met her in San Francisco…." Ben had mentioned, trying to recall whether he’d heard of any similar happenings while he’d been there.

"As far as I can tell, she didn’t actually teach in San Francisco. In fact she wasn’t there for very long, maybe a week or so. That’s where I learned that she’d boarded a stagecoach for Virginia City. Unfortunately, I’ve missed her again. But, I’m gaining on her. She hasn’t been gone very long and we know she got on a stage headed east; supposedly she’s planning on heading toward Iowa. I intend to check out every station from here to there," the marshal vowed, "I won’t stop ‘til I find her."

Ben had believed those words with all his heart. Marshal Jameson surely was intent on finding the woman and Ben could only hope that he would find her soon, before any more boys lost their lives.

But even if he found her this very day, it would not bring back the Reverend Budreaux. It wouldn’t take away the anguish and suffering he’d been forced to endure these last weeks. Nothing could change the fact that an innocent man had been unjustly sentenced to death and then cruelly murdered.

Ben said a silent prayer for all of those involved directly or indirectly with that unconscionable act. He knew it was irrational, but still, he couldn’t help feeling that he could have or should have been able to do something to prevent it from happening. However, at the time, his thoughts had been focused solely on Joseph and for that he held no regret…only gratitude that his boy was alive and well and waiting at home for him.

_ _ _ _

The next few days Joe was forced to remain in bed, even though he felt fine. The only good thing about this was that everyone was being real nice to him. His brother Adam finally remembered to give him the present he’d gotten for him in San Francisco, a wooden matchstick model ship kit. They worked for long hours putting the model Clipper together and from the looks of things it was going to take many more hours to get it finished. Hoss brought him a bag of his favorite candy and played checkers whenever Joe wanted and Hop Sing made all of Joe’s favorite foods, hoping to get him to eat more. Finally, he was allowed to sit downstairs and work on the model ship, but after a little fancy talkin’ he actually got his pa to take him out to the barn.

"So, what do you think, baby brother?" Adam kneeled down beside Joe and began stroking Cochise with admiration. "Did we take good enough care of her?"

"Yeah," Joe grinned, leaning on his brother’s shoulder, ‘cause his legs still felt kinda wobbly. "She’s grown so much, I hardly recognized her."

"Good thing she recognized you then."

Joe looked at Adam with wonder. "She did, didn’t she?"

"She sure did, little brother," Hoss agreed. "She never looked so happy as when you came through that barn door."

"Did ya miss me, girl? I sure missed you," he crooned softly as he petted the colt. "You’re even prettier than before, ain’t ya?" The colt nuzzled his cheek, making Joe smile.

Ben allowed him a few more minutes, until he noticed Joe sway. Immediately, Adam took a firmer hold on the boy, but Ben wasn’t going to take any chances. "I think that’s enough for today, son," he said. "If you’re feelin’ up to it, you can come out and see her for a bit tomorrow."

"Okay, Pa," Joe answered, uncharacteristically cooperative. Which only assured Ben that he’d made the right decision.

"How ‘bout I give you a ride, buddy?" Adam said lightly, picking the boy up in a semi-playful manner. By the time they’d made it to Joe’s bedroom, the boy was already asleep.

_ _ _ _ _

"Well, Roy, Marshal Jameson, to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Well, two reasons, actually three," said Roy, pushing his hat back on his forehead.

"Come in, sit down," Ben offered, motioning them into the house. "Would you like some coffee?"

"That’d be kind of ya, Ben." Roy sat down on the settee, while the marshal sat across from him in Ben’s favorite chair. Ben went into the kitchen and returned a short time later carrying a tray with coffee, cups and cookies. A moment after the coffee was poured, Roy began to speak. "I suppose first I oughtta tell ya that we spoke to some of the townsfolk yesterday, held another town meeting of sorts. Thought they all should know about Mrs. Clausson and about the reverend. I was kinda hopin’ someone would speak up, give us some ideas about who was involved with draggin’ that poor man outta the jail and sendin’ him to his death."

"I take it nobody was volunteering any information," Ben surmised, looking disgusted.

"No, but ya never know. I’m still hopin’ someone’ll come forward," Roy said, thoughtfully. "I have faith in the good people of Virginia City."

Ben sighed, a corner of his mouth twitching. "I hope you’re right, Roy. I truly do."

The sheriff nodded and took a sip of his coffee then set the cup down. "Which leads me to the main reason I stopped by. I was out to the Pruitt’s last night to speak with Seth and his father."

"Oh?"

"Yep, it seems that Seth and Little Joe were with Jesse Simmons the day he went missin’. I only found this out recently when the marshal and I went through the class attendance records. We questioned Mr. Johnson and he admitted that he’d meant to speak with ya about Little Joe, but he came down with the flu that Friday and well, apparently he forgot."

Ben shook his head, feeling a little exasperation, but unable to be angry with the boy, quite yet.

"I believe the first death, Jesse Simmons, was actually an accident," Marshal Jameson explained. "I think it just happened to coincide with the other deaths, but if you look at the evidence, there’s really no correlation between them."

"Seth’s testimony confirms that," Roy added. "He said that the three boys played hooky that day and went fishin’ down at the stream. Joe went home first, then Seth. He claims that Jesse was still fishin’ when he left. We just need to ask Joe a few questions to make sure his statement matches up with Seth’s."

Ben nodded. "That’s fine, Roy, but, if Seth left before the Simmons boy, well, then nobody can know for sure what happened to him, can they?"

"Seth Pruitt said the boys cross the stream on some rocks, to get to their favorite fishing spot," Jameson said. "Most likely Jesse Simmons slipped coming back."

"Well, what about Rex Dutton? He was found at Eagle’s Nest and the other two boys were found at Indian’s Leap."

"We think that it’s possible she followed him out there. His horse was found not too far away and we did find a shred of blue cloth, similar to dress material, caught on a rock. We have statements from some of the children saying the teacher had a blue dress, although none of them remember if she was wearing it that particular day."

The sound of someone tramping noisily down the stairs, made them pause in their conversation to look up. "Well, looky here," Roy said, smiling at the sight of the now healthy looking boy.

"Hi Sheriff Coffee," Joe called out, jumping the last three steps.

"Just the man I came to see," said the sheriff, amicably.

Joe halted, his cheerful expression turning suspicious. "Me?"

"Little Joe," said Ben, holding an arm out for the boy. "Sheriff Coffee and Marshal Jameson would like to ask you a few questions."

Joe walked slowly over to his father and Ben put an arm around the boy then coaxed him to perch on his knee.

"We’ve been tryin’ to sort through a lot of details these past few days, son," Roy Coffee began. "In doing so, we came to the conclusion that the death of Jesse Simmons was most likely an accident, after all."

Joe nodded uncertainly.

"Well, we went through the attendance records on the day that Jesse turned up missin’ and noticed that a few of you were marked absent."

Joe looked anxiously at his father then down at his boots.

Roy winked at Ben. "Mr. Johnson says he’s pretty sure that you, Seth Pruitt and Jesse took the day off to do a little fishin’. Is that true?"

Joe looked again at his father. "Tell the truth, son," Ben said quietly.

"Um, yes sir," Joe admitted, looking up through his eyelashes. "It’s true, we played hooky and went fishin’ that day." He hated breaking his promise to Seth, but it looked to him that both the sheriff and his pa already knew the truth anyway.

"And where did you boys go fishin’?"

"We went down to the creek," Joe said, glad when he felt his father’s hand on his back. "We got a special place that nobody else knows about."

Roy looked thoughtful for a moment then leaned toward Joe. "Could ya tell me where it is?" he asked conspiratorially. "If’n I promise not to tell anyone."

Joe pursed his lips then nodded. "Well, right past the Simmons’ place there’s a thicket of trees right by the creek. Ya go past that until ya get to the big red rock. Ya can’t miss it; it’s right along the bank."

"That’s the spot?"

"No, that’s where we go across."

"And just how do you boys do that?" asked Roy.

"There’s steppin’ stones that go to other side."

"I see. Is that where you boys fish?"

"Not ‘xactly," said Joe. "Just down a little ways further there’s a weepin’ willow tree and right underneath it is where the best fishin’ is."

The sheriff nodded thoughtfully. "That sounds like a fine spot, Little Joe. Now, I was kinda curious, could ya tell me one other thing?"

"Okay."

"That day when you boys were fishin’, did ya all meet down there…or did ya meet at the school?"

"We met on the way to school." Joe turned to his father, solemnly. "I didn’t plan to play hooky Pa, honest. It was just one of them last minute things."

"We’ll discuss it later, son."

"When ya left, did ya all leave together?"

"No, I left first," Joe said. "Seth told me he left right after me and Jesse stayed ‘cause he lives close by."

"Well, thank you Little Joe, you’ve been a big help. And don’t worry about that promise ya made to Seth," the sheriff said knowingly, "he already told me the same story. I just needed to hear your version to be sure it matched up with his."

"Is it okay if I go outside now?" asked Joe, looking first at the sheriff then to his father. "I gotta check on Cochise."

"It’s okay with me, if it’s okay with your pa."

"Go on," Ben said, smiling at the boy.

Joe got up and hurried for the door. "You should see her Sheriff Coffee!" he exclaimed. "She’s getting real big. You wouldn’t even know her!"

"Well, I’ll have to take a look before I go then."

They waited for the door to close then Ben turned to Marshal Jameson. "I’ve been meaning to speak with you, Marshal. I don’t know whether this is relevant or not, but my son Adam told me that Mrs. Clary mentioned having a sister named Addie. By the way she spoke, Adam assumed the two must be close. I’m not sure whether that’s helpful to you, or not, but I thought it was worth mentioning."

"Mr. Cartwright, Anna Clausson had a twin sister, Adelaide, but she died when they were children."

"Oh." Ben frowned, puzzled. "Well, that’s odd."

"Yes, it is. I’ll have to mention it to the psychiatric expert that’s working with me on the case."

"You have psychiatric experts?" Ben asked, with amazement.

"Yes, this is an important case," the marshal said. "Last week, the US government began sending wanted posters to every federal agency this side of the Mississippi, as well as the state and local law enforcement. I think they hesitated at first because she’s a woman, but now it seems they really want her caught."

"Which leads me to the second reason we stopped out here today Ben…" Roy Coffee jumped in, "which is…well, to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?"

"Yep," the sheriff confirmed. "We’ll be leavin’ for St. Louis at sun up."

"Both of you?"

"Sheriff Coffee has agreed to accompany me in my search for Mrs. Clausson," the marshal explained.

"Yep, figured two men’d be twice as good as one."

"Well…." Ben said, looking perplexed. "What about Virginia City?"

Roy Coffee grinned. "I’ve already appointed someone to fill in for me while I’m gone. I’m sure you’ll agree, the new sheriff, Sheriff Brady, will do a fine job. You see, Ben," he said more seriously. "I feel sorta obligated to help track this woman down considerin’ what she did to the citizens of my town."

"Yes, I understand."

"I just let her ride off," he continued, miserably, "and I don’t think I can forgive myself ‘til I make things right."

Ben gazed intently at his old friend. "You weren’t the only one who let her ride off, Roy. She had us all fooled. Don’t forget that."

"I know, but still." Roy frowned. "It’s my town, Ben. More than that, there’s a lot of those folks that are as close to me as family. I can’t help but feel I’ve let them down." He sighed. "This is just somethin’ I have to do. I hope you understand."

"Of course I do, Roy. We’ll sure miss you, though."

"Thank ya Ben and don’t you worry none," Roy said with a grin. "I’ll be back. Now, how about we go out and take a look at that young’un’s filly."

_ _ _ _ _

From the barn, Ben and Joe watched as Roy Coffee and Marshal Jameson mounted their horses.

"You behave yourself, ya hear?" Roy called out before leaving. "And take good care of those brothers of yours!"

Joe smiled and nodded. "I will!"

"Take care, Ben."

Ben smiled. "You too, old friend."

"By the way, Little Joe," Roy paused after turning his horse. "There’s a family that moved into the old Roberts place. They got a boy just about your age. His name’s…" Roy pushed his hat back and scratched his head, "Mitch, I believe. Mitch Devlin."

"Thanks Sheriff! Bye!" shouted Joe, waving as the two men rode away.

When they were out of sight, Ben patted his son on the shoulder. "We’ll have to go over and introduce ourselves. Maybe we can get Hop Sing to make up something special for us to take over and welcome them with."

Joe nodded enthusiastically. "Maybe some fried chicken. Hey, Pa?" he said, tugging his father back into the barn. "I was thinkin’ maybe we could build a special stall for Cochise."

"A special stall?"

"Yeah, you know," he glanced quickly at his father, then back to the colt, "up in my room, so’s she wouldn’t get lonely."

"Up in your room," Ben repeated flatly.

"Yeah." Joe grinned. "Ya wouldn’t want her to be lonely would ya, Pa?

Ben snorted. "No, we wouldn’t want that."

"So, it’s okay then?"

"Well, Joseph, how about this," he compromised. "How about when you grow up and get your own house, we’ll make sure to put in a bedroom just for Cochise."

"Promise?"

"Have I ever lied to you, son?" Ben asked, raising an eyebrow.

"’course not, Pa."

"Well, then, when you get your own house, it’ll be fine with me if you want to bunk with your horse. That is, if Cochise doesn’t mind."

That sent Joe into a fit of giggles. The wonderful sound was music to Ben’s ears and his heart was filled with emotion to see the boy so happy.

Then suddenly the laughter stopped and Joe turned, wide-eyed, to his father. "Pa? Does that mean…? Cochise…you said that…."

"Yes, son."

"You mean…?"

"By the time she’s ready to saddle, I figure you’ll have outgrown that pony of yours," Ben said calmly, studying the horse with appreciation. "I don’t think we could find a better horse." He looked down at Joe and smiled, his eyes full of love. "She’ll be perfect for you."

"Oh, Pa!" Joe threw his arms around his father, hugging him as tightly as he could. "I love you!"

Ben closed his eyes and held on to his son, once again silently thanking the Father above for his own most precious gift.

The End

Thanks to Joan S. for bravely offering to preview my first Bonanza story and for her comments and encouragement.

(12/11/02)