Michael
Landon AKA Joe Cartwright
By
DebbieB
“I’ll
probably be late tonight sweetheart, we have to re-shoot some scenes, so don’t
wait up for me,” Michael called as he hurried from the house. He glanced down at his watch, “Damn,” he
cursed. “I’m gonna be late!”
Michael
hurried to the garage, fumbling in his pocket for his keys as he jumped into
his little sports car, mashing the button that would release the convertible
top. Looking back over his shoulder to
be sure the garage door was up, he carefully backed out of the building and
turned the car around, toward the main gate of his home. He pushed the button on the remote over his
dash that would open the double gates and zoomed out of his driveway. It wasn’t long before he veered his car into
traffic, as usual the 405 was backed up with morning commuters. Michael let out a long sigh, wondering just
where everyone could be headed at
It
dawned on the handsome young star, after sitting in traffic for an hour that he
could take a short cut to work. They
weren’t filming at the studio today, but were doing location shots at Vasquez
Rock. Mike snickered to himself as he
whipped in and out of traffic, leaving the freeway at a rate of speed much too
fast to go down the exit, but he managed the car as well as any pro. Several more turns this way and that and
Michael Landon was out on the open road.
The
wind whipped at his chestnut curls as Mike pressed his foot down on the
accelerator. His mind was on his work
and the lines he was suppose to know. He
was so pre-occupied with his thoughts that he was unaware of the hazardous
curve that lay ahead. The road seemed
to disappear before him as Mike’s senses suddenly awakened to the danger of the
sharp bend in the road. He stomped the
brake with both feet, tires screeched as the smell of searing rubber and hot
brakes reached his nostrils. The car bounced
over the curve, leaving the road at a dangerous speed. There was no stopping the vehicle as the car
crashed through the open desert headed straight for a small body of water. The lake seemed more a mirage than actual,
until Mike felt the spray of cool water wash over his body.
The
car came to rest, nose down in the now muddy lake. Mike’s head was slung forward, hitting the
stirring wheel and knocking the television personality senseless. Slowly, the fancy new sports car sank to the
bottom of the small lake. Mike’s body
floated upward and washed by the ripples from the sinking car, to the edge of
the water, where he groaned slightly and turned over onto his back.
The
sun was midway of the sky by the time that Michael began coming around. He forced his eyes opened and then quickly
shut them, shielding them from the hot rays of the sun. For several more minutes he lay where he was,
trying to collect his muddled thoughts and trying to force himself to remember
what had happened to him.
At
last he drew his body into a sitting position, groaning at the pain in his
head. “Damn,” he cursed softly, rubbing
at the goose egg on his temple. Mike
forced his eyes opened and gazed around him, trying to get his bearings. Once he was standing, he seemed more confused
than before.
“What
the hell?” he stammered. He took a few
unsteady steps and then stopped.
“Something’s not right…” Mike turned to look behind him, regretting the
fact that he moved too fast, for he felt his body sway slightly and he extended
one arm attempting to steady himself.
After
several more moments, when he was more sure of himself, Mike walked a short
distance and then turned around and around until he had made a complete
circle. His eyes were growing wide and a
small grain of fear flickered through him.
“The
lake,” he muttered to himself, “it’s not here…and I know it was…and my car,
it’s gone as well!”
Mike
looked up at the sun, and then glanced down at his watch. “My watch!
Oh no, that’s the one that
“Oh…my
head…it hurts,” Michael mumbled to himself as he pressed his palm to the pump
knot. He took a few staggering steps,
glaring up at the hot sun. He pinched
his eyes tightly against the throbbing pain across his forehead and then felt
his body sagging to the ground as his legs gave way beneath him.
He
was unsure just how long that he had lain in the hot sun and was only aware of
the deep sounding voice calling out someone else’s name. Michael struggled to open his eyes to see the
face behind the voice, but when he had finally succeeded, the bright light of
the sun blinded his vision.
“Joe,
wake up boy…can you hear me?”
“Heh?”
Mike muttered, shielding his eyes and seeing the face at last. He groaned softly as he allowed the man to
help him sit upright.
“Ray?”
“Here
Joe, take a drink.”
Mike
watched as the man pulled a cork from an old canteen and offered him a
drink. Hot and tired, his head still
pounding, Mike accepted the canteen from the man and turned it up to his lips.
“Easy,
not so fast, Little Joe,” the man scolded gently as he guided Mike’s hand along
with the canteen to his mouth for a second swallow of the cool water.
“Thanks,”
Mike said, handing the water container back.
“Ray…what happened?” he asked, trying to get to his feet.
“
“My
horse?” stammered Mike. “I wasn’t riding
a horse, I was driving my car…my NEW car!”
“Your
what? Your car…ain’t never heard of a
car before. Joe, ya sure, you’re feeling
okay? Maybe I’d better get ya back to
town and have the doc take a look at your head.”
Michael
was dumbfounded as he stared at the strange man dressed in cowboy garb and
wearing a Stetson hat and a sidearm as well.
“Joe…did
ya hear what I said? Come on, boy, ya
can ride double with me. I’ll git ya to
Doc Martin’s and then send word to your
“Wait
a minute…who’s Doc Martin…and what did you mean about my Pa? My father’s dead, he died a couple of years
ago and…”
“Why
Joe Cartwright…I can’t believe my ears.
What’cha mean talkin’ about ya Pa like that? Why Ben Cartwright’s as much alive as me and
you…”
“Ben
Cartwright? Doc Martin? I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking
about, Ray…”
“Roy…not
Ray…its Roy Coffee, and I’m the sheriff of
The
man seemed quite concerned about the boy’s state of mind and the fact bothered
Michael, making him to doubt his own sanity.
“Look,
mister, my name isn’t Joe Cart…whatever…its Michael Landon and I was on my way
to…to…”
“I…I…can’t
seem to remember where I was going,” Mike stammered, glancing worriedly at the
man in front of him.
Once
they were settled,
“Are
you sure your name isn’t Ray Teal?” Mike asked at long last.
“Nope…dun
told ya, it’s Roy Coffee,” the gentleman said over his shoulder.
“Hmm…”
murmured the man with the pounding headache.
“And you say my name is Joe Cart…whatever?”
“Cartwright…Joseph
Francis Cartwright.”
“FRANCIS? Who in hell would name a fella, Francis?”
Michael asked in a shocked tone.
“Your
ma and pa, that’s who. And I might warn
ya, Joe, ya better not let ya pa hear ya talkin’ dirty like that. He don’t set no store in filthy language, ya
know,” warned the sheriff.
“Well,
two things you need to get straight, I’m not this guy, Joe Cartwright, and this
Ben Cartwright dude, isn’t my father and as for my mother…don’t even go there!”
Mike snapped, becoming slightly irritated at the man.
Suddenly
the horse stopped and the man turned around as far as he could in the saddle
and glared at the younger man.
“Now
ya listen here…I didn’t know ya ma, but I know plenty who did and I’m tellin’
ya, she was as fine a lady as anyone’s ever met…ain’t no need of ya to talk
down about her! Ya jist better sit back
there and keep ya mouth shut, boy. I’m
allowin’ fer that knot on ya head fer the way ya’s actin’ but I warn ya…anymore
of that gibberish and I’ll be takin’ ya to jail ‘stead of Doc Martin’s. Ya understand?” growled
As
he turned back around,
“Whoa,”
Michael
took the offered hand and slid carefully to the ground. He swayed slightly and clutched the man’s
shoulder as
“Easy
there, son,”
As
he reached for the knob, the door opened suddenly. “Roy…Joe…what’s happened? I saw you riding in and then I saw Little Joe
about fall when he dismounted.”
The
doctor slipped his arm about Mike’s slim waist and led him to a table in the
back room. “Take is easy, Joe, up you
go,” he ordered as Michael crawled onto the table. “Now, let’s lay back.”
“I’m
riding out to the Ponderosa, keep him here until I get back with Ben. Joe’s not acting his self, Doc, and he has a
goose egg on his head,” explained
Mike
stared at the doctor’s kind face.
“Harry? Harry Holcombe?”
“No
son, I’m Doc Martin…I don’t know a Harry Holcombe…is he a doctor, too?” Paul
questioned as he checked Mike’s vital signs.
Mike
pinched his lips tightly, refusing to say another word. “Doesn’t anyone around
here, except for me, know who he is?’ he fumed silently to himself.
Two
hours later, the door to the doctor’s office burst open, admitting a very
concerned Ben Cartwright. Paul came from
the back room as soon as he heard voices in the waiting room.
“Ben…”
“Paul…how’s
Joe, can I see him? What’s wrong with
him, Roy said he was talking strange and he didn’t know who he was and…”
“Ben,
calm down!” Paul said as he held his hand up to stop the questioning.
“Joe
has taken a hard blow to the head and he is a little disoriented. He’s going to be fine…at least physically,
but right now, he’s having a little trouble remembering things,” Paul
explained.
“Like
what?” asked Adam who stood next to his father.
Paul
frowned slightly. “Like who he is and
what he was doing when he hit his head.
He doesn’t know me, or
“Michael
Landon…wasn’t he that guy they caught over in
“Naw,
that was Mitchell Landerson, and he was wanted for murder,” corrected Adam.
“Paul,
are you sure Joe’s going to be okay?” Ben questioned.
“In
time, I don’t think his injuries are permanent, Ben, though how much time, it’s
hard to tell with things such as this. I
think if you take him home and make him stay in the bed and get plenty of rest,
it might speed his recovery.”
“Sure,
Paul, sure. Now, may we see him?” Ben
asked.
“Of
course, though he’s a bit groggy, he was getting a little too worked up so I
gave him something to help him rest.
He’s in here,” Paul opened the door to allow Joe’s family to enter the
room where Joe lay stretched out on the small bed.
At
the sound of the opening door, Michael raised his head. When he saw the three men enter he raised up on
one elbow and smiled.
“Lorne! Hey Dan, Pernell…now maybe someone can tell
me what the hell is going on here…”
The
three men stopped in their tracks and turned to look at one another, with
questions glazing their eyes.
“Lorne…hey,
you guys, stop looking at me like that!
Dan…” Mike swung his legs over the side of the bed and started to rise.
“Oh
no you don’t,” Adam said, gently forcing Joe back down.
“Cut
it out Pernell, this isn’t funny!” Mike said in a sharp voice.
“Joseph,
you stay in that bed. The doctor said
you should lie still for a bit and then we can go home,” Ben explained as he
seated himself on the edge of the bed.
“My
name is not JOE CARTWRIGHT!” Michael shouted.
He rubbed at his head that was still throbbing. “Why won’t anyone listen to me?” he muttered
in a small voice.
“Joseph,
you’ve taken a hard hit to your head. I
understand that you are confused and your head hurts, so I’m going to let your
attitude go for now, but please refrain from raising your voice to me again,”
Ben scolded in a serious voice.
Mike
looked like he might cry, as he fought to control his quivering chin. “But my name is Michael Landon…honest…and
you’re Lorne Greene and that’s Dan Blocker and he’s Pernell Roberts and…and…I
don’t know what’s wrong with everyone!”
Ben
glanced up at his two sons and saw that they appeared just as worried about the
boy as he was. He glanced back down at
Joe who had closed his eyes. Tenderly,
he brushed back at the stray curls that had plastered themselves to the boy’s
brow.
“Try
to rest, son. Things will be better in
the morning,” Ben tried to comfort the distraught young man.
Mike’s
eyes grew wide as he stared at the man on the bed next to him. “Morning?
I can’t stay here until morning…my family…my kids…I have to go home,
now!” Michael tried to push himself up
from the bed, but Ben stopped him.
“Now
you stop that young man,” he growled, “or I’ll have the doctor give you
something to make you sleep for a week, do you understand?”
Mike
stopped suddenly and lowered himself back down against the bed. “Lorne, I can’t believe you’re talking to me
like that. You’re treating me like I was
a child and I resent it,” snapped Mike.
“Then
stop acting like a child and I’ll stop treating you like a child,” Ben ordered
firmly. “Now close your eyes, and
rest. I’m going to speak with the
doctor.”
Ben
rose from the bed and motioned with his eyes for Hoss to stay close to his
brother. He signaled for Adam to follow
him out into the waiting area with him.
Hoss
pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down.
Mike opened his eyes, watching the big man’s actions. Once seated, Hoss turned his full attention
to his brother.
“Does
ya head still hurt, punkin?” he asked in a kind voice.
“Dan…what’s
going on? I know who I am…why don’t
you…and Lorne and Pernell? Hell fire,
even Ray thinks he's some guy named Roy Coffee…”
“Listen,
little buddy, don’t fret ya self none about all that right now. Ya do as Pa says and close ya eyes and
rest. We’ll all go home in a while, soon
as Pa’s done talkin’ to the doc.”
“Home
where?” Mike was more confused than ever and he felt as if he were living in a
true to life nightmare. It was as if
he’d been caught in a sci-fi flick and he couldn’t find his way out.
“To
the ranch, Joe, the Ponderosa…don’t ya remember?” stammered Hoss.
“All
I remember is waking up with a king sized goose egg on my head and some dude
dressed up like a damn cowboy and everyone going around calling me Little
Joe…who the hell is Little Joe anyway?” Mike said with a ring of sarcasm to his
tone. “I’d sure like to meet this
fellow…”
“Joe,
be quiet,” Hoss demanded. “Ya ascarin’
me, talkin’ crazy like ya’s doin’,”
“Scaring
you…what about me? How the hell do you
think I feel? Everyone’s trying to convince
me I’m somebody I’m not and everyone I know, or thought I knew, is claiming to
be someone else…and I can’t remember shit…and YOU’RE scare? Give me a break, Dan!”
Ben
returned shortly to the back room.
Michael had dozed off leaving Hoss sitting in his chair close by. When Ben opened the door and entered the
little room Hoss stood to his feet and motioned for his father to be
quiet. Ben eased over to the bed and
gazed down at Joseph.
“He
finally went to sleep,
“Well,
I suppose it’s all strange to him, not knowing who he is or who we are, but
Paul said he should be fine in a few days.”
Ben
sat down on the edge of the bed and watched the young man sleep. After several moments, he turned to
Hoss. “Adam’s waiting outside with the
buggy. I almost hate to wake Joe, he
looks so peaceful,” whispered Ben.
“Yeah,
he sure does. He’s been workin’ so hard
at breakin’ those bronc’s that he’s plum wore out and that knot on his head
sure didn’t help ‘em none,” said Hoss.
“I
know, and I’ve been talking to Paul about that, he says Joe is not to get on
another bronc until he tells him he can.”
“Guess
Doc figures Joe’s been dropped on his head too many times?” Hoss snickered.
Ben
turned dark eyes up at Hoss, glaring angrily at him. “That’s not funny, Hoss, that’s exactly what
Paul thinks may have caused this…this…lapse in memory!”
“Sorry,
Pa…I was only funnin’ ya some…I didn’t mean nuthin’ by it, honest,” Hoss apologized.
Ben’s
anger swiftly vanished and he smiled at his middle son. “It’s alright, son…I didn’t mean to snap at
you, it’s just that I’m very worried about your brother.”
Ben
turned his attention to Joe.
“Joe…son…Joseph…wake up now, it’s time to go home,” Ben said as he
gently shook the young man’s shoulder.
“Joseph…”
“Oh…my
head,” muttered Mike, opening his eyes and seeing the man who claimed his name
was Ben and not Lorne, leaning over him.
Ben
smiled. “You ready to go home now, young
man?” he asked kindly as Mike raised up into a sitting position.
“Home? Yeah…I need to get home…my family…”
“It’s
all right son, your family is all here…” began Ben.
“Here?
“No
son, not
Michael
squinted his eyes at Hoss and then pointed at the big man.
“Don’t
you mean Dan?” stammered Mike once more trying to trick the man into making a
slip up on the joke they were playing on him.
It was growing old…this practical joke they were all playing…trying to
make him think he’d lost his mind. Yeah,
that’s what they were doing…but they were taking it too far, he was beginning
to think that he had lost his mind.
Ben
looped his arm through Joe’s and helped the boy to his feet. He glanced quickly at Hoss and then back at
Joe. “No, I mean Hoss…your brother…Hoss
Cartwright,” explained Ben.
“But…he’s
not my bro…oh hell, what’s the use!” Mike grumbled.
“Listen
here young man,” Ben snapped as he forced Joe around to face him, “I’ve had
just about enough of that filthy talking.
I have no idea where you picked that kind of language up, but I’m
warning you Joseph, enough is enough, do you understand?”
Mike
looked as if he were about to make a smart retort, but something about the way
the dark eyed man was glaring at him, caused him to hold his tongue. His head still hurt from the goose egg, he
was tired and confused and more than a little frightened at what had happened
to him, and really had no fight left in him.
“Yessir,”
he muttered. “I’m sorry sir, it won’t
happen again,” Michael said.
He
suddenly felt as if he were actually standing before his father apologizing for
real and the strange feeling only added to his ever growing fear.
“All
right then, son, let’s get you home, and into your own bed. Hop Sing will have supper ready by the time
we get there and then you can eat and go straight up to bed.”
Michael
knew he must have had a strange look on his face, for Lorne or Ben or whomever
the hell…oops…whomever the man might be, was looking at him with a concerned
look on his face, as if he was expected to say something. But what…pondered Mike.
“Oh
good, I’m getting hungry…” he stammered, but his answer must have pleased the
gentleman, for he smiled kindly at him.
Adam
drove the buggy, but had little to say as they made their way to this placed
called the Ponderosa. Michael wondered
at the man’s silence. He hoped that he
had not said anything to offend Pernell, sometimes it was hard to figure out
just what Pernell was thinking; he was such a strange one at times, always so
solemn, rarely laughing. He was a
private man who would rather stay to himself as to socialize with the rest of
them. Mike absentmindedly rubbed gently
at the tender spot on the side of his brow.
“Mind
if I ask you something?” Mike ventured to say at last.
Adam
glanced over at his youngest brother, glad to know that he was looking a bit
better. “Naw, I don’t mind, ask away.”
“Well…this
may sound sort of, off the wall…” Mike began.
“Off
the wall? What the hell does that mean?”
Adam quizzed his little brother.
“Hey…you
better not let the old man hear you cuss like that…”
Adam’s
eyes grew dark and when he turned them on Joe, Mike drew back, startled by the
depth of the man’s piercing eyes.
“Wh…what?”
Michael stammered.
“Old
man? I don’t think I’d be letting our
father hear you refer to him as ‘the old man’,” Adam advised. “He might just be tempted to take a strap to
your backside.” Adam smiled slightly,
remembering other times that Ben had used the strap on the little scamp. The memory of Joe’s wailing broadened his
smile.
“He
wouldn’t dare! I’m a grown man…not some
snot-nosed kid that needs…hey…wait just a damn minute…how come you can cuss,
but I can’t?” demanded Joe as he glanced around to be sure that Lorne, who was
ridding slightly behind the buggy, hadn’t overheard their conversation.
“Because,
little brother,” laughed Adam, “I’m a man, and you’re still a kid…or at least
to our father, you’re still a kid,” Adam laughed again after seeing the flash
of anger fill Joe’s eyes.
Michael
sighed deeply and turned away. “I ain’t
no kid,” he murmured softly to himself, feeling as if he had said that at
sometime or other, but couldn’t remember the time, or the place.
The
buggy came to a stop in front a massive log home. Michael craned his neck in all directions
trying to take in the whole scene. The house
was beautiful, a bit old fashion for his modern day taste, but the house had a
warm inviting look about it that appealed to a certain side of the celebrity.
“What
place is this?” he turned to Pernell and asked.
Adam
stood speechless beside the buggy, watching his brother climb slowly from the
carriage.
“Home.”
“Home? Who’s home?” Michael asked as he rubbed his
head gently.
“Yours…mine…theirs,”
Adam said pointing to his father and Hoss who were dismounting.
“This
isn’t my home, I live in
“Never
mind,” sighed Mike. “Just point me to my
room, I’m beat and I’d like to take a nap…if that’s permitted?” he added as he
turned to Lorne.
“Of
course you can take a nap, son, if you don’t feel well,” Ben told his son.
“I
don’t feel well…you can trust me on that one…I feel like shi…ere…crap…ere…I
just don’t feel well…that’s all,” stammered Mike as he hastened his pace toward
the front door.
Hoss
pushed the door opened and stepped back to allow Joe to enter the house
first. Mike stepped through the doorway
and paused, taking in the splendor of the rooms in front of him.
“Wow…this
place sure is something,” he chirped.
“Go
on in, son,” Ben said, smiling at the pleased look on Little Joe’s face. He was thinking that now that he had Joe
home, the boy might start remembering more about his life and his family.
“Lorne…ere…Ben...Mr.
Cartwright…” the worried look reappeared in Mike’s eyes as he turned to look at
the man with the silver hair. “Pa…” he
forced himself to say. “This house
is…is…so…”
“Familiar?”
Hoss butted in to say.
Michael
turned to the big man. “No…I wish it were
though, Dan…ere…Hoss, I can almost get the feeling that I’ve been here before.”
Ben
hurried to his son and grasped Joe’s shoulders.
“Joseph, that’s wonderful, son. I
knew bringing you home would have a positive affect on you. Now, are you hungry, son? Or would you rather go on up and take a nap
before dinner?”
“I
could use something to eat…you know I never eat breakfast, and I almost always
skip lunch…”
“Never
eat breakfast? Aw…come on Little Joe, ya
know most of the time ya the first one to the breakfast table…” Hoss snickered.
“No,
really…Dan, you know I hate eating breakfast…” the feelings of frustrations
were beginning to overwhelm the younger man and it plainly showed on his
face. “Why don’t any of you believe me? What’s happened to me…to the three of you?”
“Joe…”
“MY
NAME’S NOT JOE…IT’S MIKE…MICHAEL LANDON AND I AM NOT A KID…AND I CAN CUSS ANY
DAMN TIME I WANT TO…HELL, DAMN, SH—,” yelled Michael as he stomped across the
floor to the bottom of the steps. He
stopped suddenly, looking upward and then clutched the railing, lowering his
head to rest on his arm.
Ben
heard the sob that escaped from his son’s mouth. He rested his hand gently on the trembling
shoulders.
Mike
turned his head just enough to see the older man’s face. “I don’t even know which room is mine,” he
muttered softly.
“It’s
all right, son, I’ll show you.”
Tenderly, Ben wrapped his arm about the boy’s slender waist and guided
him up the stairs. “It’s the first room
on the right,” Ben said with compassion as he opened the door and led Joe
inside.
Ben
pointed to the bed, where Mike slowly sat down and waited as the man he knew as
Lorne dug through the chest of drawers.
When Lorne turned around to face him, he had an old fashion nightshirt
in his hand that he held out to Mike.
“You
don’t really expect me to put that thing on, do you?” Mike asked hesitantly.
“It
gets cold here, in the mountains, at night.
I wish you would wear it.” Ben
was trying hard to keep his patience with the boy. He realized that Joe had gone through quite a
lot today and was still uncertain of who he was or where he was.
“I
usually don’t sleep in anything but my shorts,” Michael said softly.
Ben
pondered the word. “Shorts?”
“Yeah…you
know…underwear…briefs…boxers…Fruit of the Loom…how about Calvin Kline?”
“No…I’m
sorry son, I can’t say that I’ve met him…I understand that you said he was
short…but surely you aren’t suggesting that you…um…sleep…with him?” stuttered
Ben, shocked at the idea.
Michael
took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks and then blew it out between
puckered lips. “Just give me that thing,
I’ll wear it,” he said at last, reaching for the garment that Ben held in his
hands.
Ben
handed the nightshirt to Joe and then turned to go. He paused at the door, “If you need anything,
I’ll just be across the hall.”
Michael
had removed his shirt and tossed it into the chair. He slipped the stripped cotton gown over his
head before answering Lorne’s comment.
“Thanks…Pa,”
he said, watching Lorne’s reactions closely.
He
had no inkling as to what was happening to him, but he figured that he might as
well go along with their game. Mike had
an idea that it was all some kind of big joke anyway…he knew Dan was a big
jokester and wouldn’t put something like this pass him, or Lorne either for
that matter, though Lorne could rarely be pulled into such a scheme.
Michael
was rewarded with a warm smile from Lorne…Ben…or whatever the gentleman
insisted his name was.
“Have
a good sleep son, and don’t worry about doing your chores in the morning, I
think Hoss and Adam won’t mind doing them for a couple of days. The doctor said you should stay in bed for a
few days anyway, so sleep as late as you like Joseph…good night, son.”
Michael
could not deny the man’s graciousness, and he returned the smile. “Thank you…for everything,” he called as Ben
closed the door to his son’s room.
The
minute that the door was closed, Mike felt the tension leave his body. Slowly he began to relax and soon he snuggled
down into the warmth of the goose-down mattress and pillows. Within minutes of finding a comfortable
position, Michael drifted into a deep, soothing slumber.
The
next morning, Michael woke with a start, bolting up right in the bed. He glanced around, suddenly remembering that
the day before had sent him catapulting into a strange and different world from
which he was accustomed. Mike tossed
back the blankets, groaning loudly as he spied the red striped nightshirt that
had crept upward, revealing his red silk speedos. The sound of approaching footsteps caused him
to jump from the bed, quickly pulling the long nightshirt downward.
A
soft rap sounded at the door and then the door was pushed opened. Michael stood face to face with the silver-hair
man who claimed to be his father.
“Well,
good morning,” smiled Ben to his son.
“Morning,”
mumbled Mike.
“I
brought you some coffee,” Ben said as he sat the tray on the table next to the
bed.
Michael
had not moved, but remained standing barefooted in the middle of the floor,
following Lorne around the room with his eyes.
“Hop
Sing will bring you some clean clothes shortly,” Ben said as he picked up the
shirt that Joe had been wearing the day before and holding it up, staring at
it.
“Son,
where on earth did you buy this thing?
I’ve never seen you wear paisleys before,” muttered Ben as he tossed the
shirt back down onto the chair. “Well,
never mind, it’s dirty and torn and for sure it wouldn’t do for a days work on
a ranch such as the Ponderosa.” Ben
turned to Joe and smiled. “I’ll have Hop
Sing toss it into the garbage, it feels like silk and wouldn’t even make a good
rag,” Ben laughed lightly.
“Hey…”
barked Mike, grabbing the shirt and clinging to it. “This shirt cost me nearly seventy-five
dollars!”
Ben
stared at his son, not fully comprehending what Joe was saying. He actually thought his son was making a
joke.
“Well,
I say if you paid that much for one shirt, you have a lot to learn about managing
money, young man. Now, the doctor said
you were suppose to stay in bed for a few days, but as usual, I see you have no
intentions of doing what you were told.
So, when you get dressed, please come downstairs, there’s a few matters
I’d like to discuss with you,” Ben issued his orders in a gentle manner.
He
could see that his youngest son was already, at this early hour of morning,
becoming upset and he dared not push too hard for Joe to stay in the bed. The last thing he wanted was another confrontation
with the boy, especially in his present state of mind.
“I’ll
wait for you at the breakfast table, son,” Ben said and slipped out the door
and was gone before Mike could say a word.
Hop
Sing padded into the room just then and laid a small pile of folded laundry on
the foot of Joe’s bed. Hop Sing nodded
his head at the young man and then, without a word, moved to leave.
“Victor…wait
a minute,” Mike called before the little Chinaman could leave.
Hop
Sing looked puzzled and pointed to himself.
“Me? My name not Victor…my name
Hop Sing!” he smiled at Joe.
Mike
moved closer to the man. “No…No…your
name is Victor Sen Yung…and…and…”
“No…name
Hop Sing and I faithful servant of Mr. Ben Car’lite,” smiled Hop Sing as he
bobbed his head up and down.
“NO! IT’S VICTOR…AND…AND…YOU’RE IN ON THIS DAMN
JOKE, TOO AREN’T YOU?” Michael bellowed.
Hop
Sing refused to let the distraught boy upset him so he smiled at Joe. “Name not Victor, name Hop Sing and not know
what you mean…joke…” Hop Sing began muttering in his native tongue as he turned
to leave.
Mike
stomped his foot in frustration.
“Damnit!” he snarled with a tone that sounded very much like a little
boy.
Michael
approached the table slowly. He saw Dan
and Pernell sitting at the table with Lorne and when they heard his footsteps,
all three looked up at him.
“Morin’
Short Shanks,” smiled Hoss.
“Good
morning, little brother, how’s your noggin?” Adam smiled as he sipped his
coffee that he had poured into the saucer.
Mike
slipped into the only chair available and unfolded his napkin. He gave Pernell a weak smile and pressed the
sore spot on his head gently.
“Just
a little sore right here, when you mash it,” Mike said, glancing around the
table at all of the food.
He
hated breakfast…they knew that…yet each one of them held out a platter
expecting him to take something from each.
He gulped, knowing that he’d have to force himself to eat a little
something, or listen to this man on his left carry on about his eating
habits. Lorne was always grumbling at
him as it was, and now that the poor misguided man believe he was his father,
Mike had no doubt that he’d receive a stern lecture. He planned on making the day easy for himself
and just go along with their joke. Maybe
if they see he’s given up trying to convince them he wasn’t this Joe Cartwright
fellow, they’d get bored with the whole thing and admit they were trying to
trick him.
“Thanks,”
Michael said to Pernell as he took the platter of scrambled eggs and served
himself.
“Thanks,”
he repeated as he spooned the fried potatoes onto his plate and then sat the
platter down.
From
the platter in his father’s hand, Mike took a slice of toast. “Thanks, Pa,” he muttered, surprised at how
easy the word Pa, slipped from his mouth.
He
smiled at the man, Lorne had always been someone to whom he had been able to
look up to, even now, Michael could see the concern in the man’s chocolate
eyes. So what if Lorne wanted to be his
father? It was for certain that over the
last several years, especially since his real father had passed, Lorne had
always been there for him, as a father figure.
And seeing as how he and his real father hadn’t really gotten along too
well, except for the last couple of years of his father’s life, it was nice to
have someone like Lorne whom Michael knew really cared deeply for him.
Ben
returned the smile, glad to see that his son was making an effort to
reestablish himself within the family.
He knew it was hard on the boy, Joe was never one to take things at face
value without first trying to figure all angles.
Somehow
Mike managed to eat his breakfast. It
wasn’t as bad as he first thought it might be and even had to admit to himself
that he felt a little better than on most mornings when he skipped
breakfast. Hoss and Adam excused
themselves from the table, saying that they had chores to do and would see him
later, when they finished with the work.
“Take
care Punkin,” Hoss said merrily, squeezing Joe’s shoulder as he ambled passed
toward the door to collect his hat and gunbelt.
“Don’t
be too hard on him, Pa,” Adam said in a joking manner. “See ya tonight, kid,” he said to Joe.
“See
ya,” Michael called out.
Once
they were gone, he turned to Lorne, feeling a little unsure of himself, a trait
that Michael Landon was not used to.
“Does he always call me kid?” he asked, glancing sideways at his
supposed father.
Ben
chuckled, “Always…and probably just to irritate you,” he said smiling.
“I’m
not surprised at all…Per…Adam’s good at doing that to me, isn’t he?” Michael
said as he sipped his coffee.
“Are
you remembering that, or just supposing?” Ben couldn’t help but hope that
Adam’s statement jarred something in his youngest son’s memory.
“Supposing,
I suppose,” Michael said with a bit of sadness to his voice. He heard Lorne sigh deeply.
“Well,
never mind for now, son. In time, I
reckon everything will come back to you,” Ben said. He smiled encouragingly to his son.
Mike
sat the cup he was holding down and faced the man at the end of the table. “Can I ask you something? And will you be honest with me?”
“Joseph,
you know perfectly well, you can ask me anything, I’m your father. And have I ever lied to you before?” Ben said
as he placed his hand on Joe’s arm and gently squeezed.
Mike
fought against the tears that threatened to fill his eyes. How would he know if this man had ever lied
to him? As Lorne, no, he had never lied
to him, or not so he knew, but as his father…Michael honestly didn’t know. He was so confused!
“I
don’t know…I mean…hell…oops, I’m sorry sir, but it’s all so frustrating, not
knowing who I really am, or who you are.
I don’t know if you’ve ever lied to me or not. I hope not…and knowing
you as you are as Ben Cartwright…my father…I don’t believe you are the kind of
man who would lie to a son, if that’s what I really am…your son, I mean,” Mike
tried to explain.
“I
have never lied to you Joseph, I give you my word on that,” Ben said seriously
as he watched the young man trying hard to control his emotions.
“Then…you
really are my father…I mean…I’m not sure what’s happening to me. I feel so…so…alone, I miss my wife and my
kids…and to be completely honest with you…I’m more than a little scared,”
confessed Michael.
Ben
got out of his chair and came around the corner of the table and grasped Joe by
his shoulders, forcing the boy to stand up.
He clutched tightly to the lad, feeling the tremors that surged through
his son’s body.
“I’m
not sure what you are referring to son, your wife…your kids…I don’t understand
that at all. But what I do understand is
that you are my son, and I love you deeply.
I want you to always remember that, Joseph, and I want you to know that
for however long it takes for you to start remembering things, I’ll always be
here for you. I know you are frightened,
so am I…but we’ll get through this…together…I promise you,” Ben said softly as
he pulled his son into an embrace.
Michael,
drained from all that had happened to him, and needing physical contact from
someone who loved him, allowed Lorne to pull him into a hug. He felt his arms move, as if they had a will
of their own, around Lorne’s body, embracing him as well. Moved by the flow of love he felt from this
man’s heart, Michael rested his head against Lorne’s shoulder and kept it there
for several long moments.
“Thank
you,” he whispered at last, pulling away.
Ben
raised his hand and brushed at the long wild curls that lay over Joe’s
forehead. “You need a haircut,
son…you’re beginning to look like a riverboat gambler,” smiled Ben.
Michael
could do nothing to stop his high-pitched, infamous giggle from bursting forth.
Ben
laughed as well, “It’s good to hear you laughing again, son.”
Mike
sobered only slightly, “Well, Pa,” he said, emphasizing the word, “I’ve been
called a lot of names in my time, but nothing that compares to a ‘riverboat
gambler’,” laughed Mike, surprised as how relieved he suddenly felt.
It
was something about this Lorne, who believed himself to be Ben Cartwright, and
the way that he expressed himself. Mike
found himself relaxing and enjoying being in the man’s company. It was as if for the first time in his life,
he connected with someone, and Ben or Lorne or whatever the man called himself,
Michael found himself drawn to the man.
Several
days had passed since Mike’s accident, though he was no closer to getting
answers to his troubling questions, he had settled himself into a routine with
this family that claimed him as theirs.
It wasn’t so bad, Mike had decided, he liked all the attention he was
receiving, and he had to admit, that the slower pace of life that he had begun
living and the fresh mountain air and good cooking had left it’s mark on
him. He felt better than he had in years
and had even come to realize that the life he now lived was one in which he had
always envisioned himself as living. For
the first time ever, Michael felt contentment in his soul that he had never
known, and he found himself enjoying just being alive.
“Come
on, Joe, you can ride him,” encouraged Hoss as he backed Cochise from his
stall.
“NO! I hate riding horses…”
“Aw…Joe…ya
know that ain’t so, ‘sides, ole Cochise here needs some exercisin’. He ain’t been ridden since…since before ya
bumped ya head…and he needs to run,” Hoss said as he began saddling the horse
for Joe.
“Then
you take him for a run…”
Hoss
burst into laughter. “Now ya know I
cain’t do no such athing, little brother, why, I’d break Cooch’s back if’n I
was ta climb up on him.”
Michael,
seeing the logic in Dan’s statement, laughed as well. “Guess you’re right Hoss,” he said as he
followed the man and horse from the barn.
He had given no thought to the fact that he had just called his friend
Hoss, for it seemed natural to do so.
“Alright,
mount up,” Hoss said, turning Cochise around so that Joe could mount on the
correct side. He snickered when he saw
his little brother gulp. “Don’t tell me,
ya dun forgot how to ride?”
“I
ain’t forgot…I just don’t like to, that’s all,” proclaimed Michael. “I’d rather be sitting behind the wheel of a
new sports car,” he grumbled under his breath as he placed his foot into the
stirrup.
“WHOA!”
Mike squealed when Cochise tried to bolt into a run. Mike pulled back on the reins sharply,
“Whoa…I said, whoa…you son-of-a-….” The
horse jerked around in a circle, just in time for Michael to see Ben Cartwright
standing with his hands on his hips, watching him.
Mike
finally managed to get the horse under control and then smiled sheepishly at
Lorne. “I wasn’t really gonna say it,
Pa…really.”
“It’s
a good thing,” Ben said in a threatening tone, and then surprised the boy by
smiling at him. “Enjoy your ride son,
but please be careful…”
“Yeah,
don’t fall off and hit ya head…again,” teased Adam who had joined them.
“I’ll
do my best not to…” Michael grinned.
He
nudged the horse with the heel of his boots and at once, Cochise broke into a
run.
“JOSEPH!”
shouted Ben but to no avail. The young
man and his horse were gone.
Several
hours later, Michael rode slowly into the yard.
Adam and Hoss were coming from the barn and Ben, who had been sitting on
the side porch working on his books, laid aside his pencil and hurried across
the yard.
“Joseph…are
you all right, son?” Ben asked with concern as he waited while Joe literally slid
down the side of his saddle and practically crumbled at the horse’s feet.
“What
happened?” questioned the concerned father.
Michael
turned to face Lorne. His face was
smeared with dirt, the pocket on his green jacket was ripped and his hat sat
sideways on his head. He gulped and then
scrunched up his face.
“This…this…animal
has no concept of what whoa means! He’s
been moving in fast gear since we left the yard this morning!” Joe was wobbling on his feet as he pointed to
the ground. “If I told him once to
whoa…I told the son-of-a- bi…biscuit-eater to WHOA and hundred times and still
the…the…s-o-b kept running! My butt
hurts so damn bad…oh, sorry Pa…but I don’t reckon I’ll be able to sit for a
week!”
Michael
looked up at the strange sounds that his friends were making and made a face at
them. “What’s so dadburn funny?” he
growled at them.
“Nothing,”
Adam said quickly and then sobered.
“Nary
a thing, Little Joe,” Hoss snickered.
“All
right you two, that’s enough, can’t you see that your brother
is…um…uncomfortable?” Ben said as he fought to keep his smile at bay. “Come with me Joseph, I think I can find some
liniment for your aching…behind,” Ben said, releasing his smile at last.
He
gently placed his hand around his son’s shoulder and led him to the house. The concerned father glanced over his
shoulder at Adam and Hoss who had their heads bent close together, giggling.
“Take
care of your brother’s horse for him, please,” Ben ordered as he trailed along
with Joe.
For
whatever reasons, Michael liked the way that his father…Lorne…cared for
him. He wasn’t prepared however when,
once in his room, Lorne ordered him to drop his pants and then placed the
bottle of liniment in his hand.
“Rub
it all over your butt, Joe. It might
sting at first, but it will make you feel better,” Ben said, trying once more
not to smile at the shocked look on his son’s face. “Unless you’d rather I do it for you?”
“NO…Nosir,”
Michael was fast to reply. Some things
he didn’t mind the kind-hearted man to do for him, but this…well…he could do
for himself. “Um…if you’ll excuse me?”
stammered Michael.
“Oh…yes,
of course, I’ll wait for you downstairs,” Ben said, tripping over his words in
his haste to leave the room.
Michael
took care of his business and using caution, pulled his trousers up around his
waist. He stopped and stared at his
reflection in the mirror as he passed by.
Mike could not help but notice his red cheeks, either caused by the warm
summer sun or from the wind that whipped at his face when he was out
riding. Whatever the cause, the high
color gave his face more of a rugged look that appealed to the young man, yet
another reason to enjoy the new life he had found.
“I
think Joseph should wait before doing as you suggested, Adam,” declared Ben from
his chair where he sat reading the paper and smoking his pipe.
“Wait
for what?” Michael called from the landing on the stairs. “What have you volunteered me for this time,
big brother?” he continued as he slowly descended the steps. Mike moved to the settee and being careful of
his sore backside, lowered himself easily onto the cushion.
“Adam
thinks it’s about time you went back to work,” Ben stated, eyeing his son’s
deliberate movements over the top of his paper.
“Work? Oh, I wouldn’t mind…” began Mike but stopped
when Adam interrupted.
“Good,
there is a new string of mustangs that need breaking, you can start first thing
in the morning,” Adam grinned.
“Mustangs? You mean…wild horses…you want me to…break
them…but…but…” Mike stuttered.
“But
nothing, you’ve laid around here long enough Joe, it’s time you went back to
work, and we all know that you pride yourself with breaking horses, so…the
job’s all yours,” Adam said as he rose from his chair. “Now, I think I’ll go out to the kitchen and
see what I can find to snack on!” he declared with a smug look.
Mike
glanced up at Pernell as he headed off for the kitchen. When Pernell’s back was turned and Mike was
sure that he wouldn’t be seen, he made a face, which caused both Ben and Hoss
to burst into laughter.
“Son,”
Ben said when he could control himself.
“If you feel you’re not up to it…”
“Oh
no…my butt might hurt, but I’ll ride everyone of those nags, even if it means
breaking my fool neck! Ole Adam won’t
get the last laugh on me!” Mike jumped
to his feet and then cringed at the uncomfortable feeling in his tush. He rubbed gently at it and then headed back
upstairs.
“I
better get some sleep if I’m to…break horses…I can’t believe I let myself be
talked into this,” he muttered to himself.
“Night Pa…night Hoss,” he called.
“Good
night son.”
“Night
Short Shanks.”
“Pa,
ya noticed how Joe’s changin’?” Hoss said after he was sure Joe could not hear
him. “I mean, when he first hit his
head, he ranted and raved about not bein’ who he was, claimin’ to be who he
ain’t. Now, most of the time, he talks
to us like he used to…like he really believes he is family.”
“Yes,
I’ve noticed it as well, though he doesn’t seem to know much about how a ranch
is run,” Ben said thoughtfully. “It’s like
he’s a little boy, all over again, and learning for the first time. You should have seen his face earlier when I
told him it was his turn to muck out the stalls.” Ben snickered, “He had his nose so scrunched
up I thought it would take Hop Sing’s heavy iron to press out the wrinkles!”
Hoss
laughed along with his father. “Makes no
never mind,