The Hangin’ Tree

By Debbie B

DLB1248@aol.com

“STOP! YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME, MY NAME IS JOE CARTWRIGHT!” shouted the frightened young man as he fought against the hands that were dragging his body to the ground.

Someone’s knee was digging into his shoulder while other hands held his legs pinned down. Joe winced when two men pulled his arms behind his back and then raised them straight up.

“Ouch!” yelled Joe.

“Shut up kid, we know what ya was doin’,” growled one of the men.

Joe continued to yank and pull on his arms, trying desperately to free himself, but the three men who had maneuvered his body to the ground and had tied his hands tightly behind his back were too much for the young man.

“Get him on his feet,” ordered the lone man who had remained on his horse.

The men dragged Joe up by his arms and Joe twisted around so that he could see the face of the other man. He was breathing hard, both from the fruitless battle and from being so scared at what he knew these men were fixing to do to him. He glanced at the man with the rope in his hands and when the man tossed one end over a large branch and tied it off, Joe gulped and then whirled around to face the man called Zeb Willis.

“YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME…MY FATHER IS BEN CARTWRIGHT,” groaned Joe when one of the men plowed his fist into Joe’s mid-section, causing the boy to double up.

“I didn’t rustle those cattle, mister…honest,” moaned Joe.

“Put him on his horse,” Willis ordered.

“NO! YOU CAN’T DO THIS…”

Joe fought with every ounce he had in him to prevent the men from placing him in his saddle. Cochise tried to shy away from the rush of strangers but one man grabbed his bridle and held him while the others shoved Joe onto his horse's back. The fourth man, who had flung the rope over the low hanging branch of the old oak tree and who had formed a hangman’s noose, waited while the men held Joe still long enough that he was able to slip the noose over the boy’s head and tighten it. All the men, except the one holding Cochise, moved back and looked up at Zeb Willis, their boss.

“YOU’RE HANGING AN INNOCENT MAN!” cried Joe, who sat frozen with fear for the last time on his pinto.

He felt his eyes cloud with tears, and he felt his body quivering in fear, he was going to die, there was no doubt and there was no one here who cared enough to prevent his dying. Joe felt a stab of regret, knowing what his family would suffer, once they learned of his fate.

“My father will never let this pass, he’ll come looking for you, all of you and he won’t stop until you’re all dead,” Joe spat at the man who had inched his horse along side of his pinto.

“Zeb…wait a minute!” shouted the man holding on to Cochise. “The kid said his father was Ben Cartwright…I’ve heard of him…he’s over Virginia City way…the boy might be tellin’ ya the truth.”

“That’s right mister, he owns the Ponderosa…I was here to buy cattle, not to steal them. John Marsh made the deal with my father and this morning we finished with the business end. Mr. Marsh, at least that’s what the man said his name was, signed a bill of sale.” Joe quickly said.

“Ya got a bill of sale?” Willis asked.

“In my right front pocket,” Joe answered and then leaned over slightly so that the man called Willis could reach into his pocket.

Willis unfolded the paper and scanned the words. He glanced up at Joe who watched him nervously and then followed the man with his eyes when Willis turned to the man on the ground.

“Jim, is this John Marsh’s mark?” Willis asked and handed the paper to the one named Jim.

Jim looked down at the mark that had been made on the paper and then slowly raised his head, looking first at Joe and then at Willis. He shook his head.

“John Marsh didn’t have to make a mark, he knew how to write his name,” Jim told Willis.

Jim returned the paper to Willis and Willis folded it up and put it in his pocket. He turned to Joe.

“This doesn’t look to good for you kid. What did John Marsh look like?” Willis asked.

Joe gulped and then swallowed, the rope fit tight against his throat and being scared half out of his mind, he pinched his eyes tightly shut, trying to remember the man’s face that had sold him the cattle.

“About fortyish, he wasn’t very tall, he had dark hair, blue eyes, and had a scar down the left side of his face,” stammered Joe as he opened his eyes and looked over at Willis.

The men on the ground exchanged knowing looks and waited with baited breath for their boss to speak.

“You’re a liar kid. John Marsh was nearly sixty years old and practically bald. This morning, we found him and his old lady, murdered and the only one, who was anywhere near their place, was you. You admitted that yourself, and now we know who murdered them and who rustled their cattle.”

Zeb Willis circled his horse around Cochise and pulled his to a stop, looking into the tear filled, frightened eyes of the young man who was about to die. He removed his hat and clutched it tightly in his right hand.

“Ya got anything to say for yourself?”

Joe could feel his body trembling, he felt the tears slip silently down the sides of his face, but he held his head up high when he looked at Willis.

“You’re hanging an innocent man,” Joe said, his voice quivering with unbridled fear.

“YEAH! GET OUTTA HERE!” shouted Willis as his hand, holding tightly to his hat, slapped the rump of Joe’s horse.

The startled pinto bolted, leaving Joe swinging gently from the high limb. Joe’s booted toes twitched, his eyes rolled back in his head as the rope jerked tightly about his neck, cutting off all air supply to his lungs. For several moments, his body twisted slightly as the rope spun him around in small circles. The men watched, as several times the spasms caused the boy’s body to jerk. From the mouth, saliva spewed and the last remains dripped slowly from the corners until all life had been expelled.

Zeb Willis signaled for his men to mount up and when they were ready, each rode away from the scene, never looking back at the tree where Joe Cartwright’s remains were left to rot in the hot Nevada sun.

Ben Cartwright shoved his hat back on his head and brushed his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. He gazed off toward the horizon, shielding his eyes from the sun’s hot rays.

“I wonder what’s keeping that boy?” he grumbled to Adam and Hoss who sat beneath the shade of a large elm tree.

“Beats me,” Hoss said as he peeked from beneath the rim of his hat.

He’d been leaning his head back against the trunk of the tree and dozing. He pushed his body up from the ground and dusted the dirt particles from the seat of his pants. Slowly he made his way over to his father until he stood at Ben’s side.

“See anythin’?” he asked.

“Nothing. You just wait until I catch up with that scamp! I told him to get right straight back here, we have men waiting to drive those cattle back to the Ponderosa and they’re getting edgy just sitting around.”

Ben arranged his hat properly and nodded toward Adam.

“Wake him up and let’s ride. I don’t like the thoughts of having to go look for that boy, but he leaves me no other choice.”

“Yessir,” Hoss quickly answered and then hurried to wake his brother.

“Adam, wake up…we’re to go look for Little Joe…Pa’s gettin’ worried about’em,” Hoss said as he nudged his older brother with the toe of his boot.

Adam let out a long sigh and glanced up at Hoss. “Why am I not surprised?” he fumed. “And my dream was just getting to the good part,” he half smiled at his middle brother.

“Oh yeah,” grinned Hoss, “what was it about?”

Adam was tightening the cinch on his saddle and gazed over the top of his horse. His dark eyes twinkled as he smiled at his brother.

“Not what brother…more like who!”

“Who? What who…a she who or a he who?” asked Hoss excitedly.

“Never mind what or who,” Ben said as he pulled Buck around and mounted up. “You two hurry up, we’ve wasted enough time as it is just waiting for your brother. Come on, let’s ride.”

Ben kicked gently at his horse’s sides and together the three rode down the long dusty path that would ultimately lead them to the hangin’ tree, where at that precise moment Joe Cartwright’s life was about to end in heartache for his family.

Ben and his sons had not ridden more than a couple miles when Ben reined in his horse. Adam and Hoss each stopped along side their father. They sat atop a small rise that looked over the valley below them. Ben scanned the grasses below, searching for any signs of his youngest son. His disappointment showed in his eyes and the in the anxious expression on his face.

“Pa, lookit…ain’t that Cochise?” Hoss said.

He pointed down the opposite side of the slope, shading his eyes so that the sun would not blind him.

“Yep, sure ‘nough,” he said more to himself than to his father.

“Come on.”

Ben nudged Buck into a run followed closely by his sons and minutes later they were all dismounting. Adam was first to his brother’s horse and quickly grabbed the reins that dangled down to the ground.

“Whoa boy,” Adam muttered softly.

Ben quickly inspected the horse for signs that might give him some clue as to where its rider might be.

“Ain’t no blood on this side, Pa,” Hoss said.

“Nothing here either,” Ben said in a relieved tone.

He raised his head, glancing in all directions.

“He couldn’t have come far, he isn’t lathered,” Adam speculated after rubbing his opened palm down the front of the horse.

“Pa, there’s tracks over here,” Hoss pointed to the grass at his feet. He lifted his head and pointed off into the distance. “This way.”

Adam and Ben mounted up and waited until Hoss took the lead. They rode slowly, giving Hoss time to inspect the ground carefully as they inched their way along. Suddenly Hoss stopped. They had crested another rise and he stood silently, gazing down at the old oak tree in the small clearing.

Ben was the first to find his voice.

“Oh dear God…NO!” muttered Ben as he urged his horse into action.

Eyes wide with fear, the three prodded their horses into a gallop and raced down the slope until they had reached the clearing. Ben slid from his horse at a full ran to grab at his son’s dangling feet to hold the boy up, hoping to relieve some of the pressure on Joe’s neck.

“JOSEPH!” shrieked Ben as Hoss cut the rope with his knife and allowed Joe’s body to slip into his father’s arms.

Adam helped Ben grab Joe’s lifeless body and together they gently lowered it to the ground. Adam placed his fingers over the pulse spot on his brother’s neck, trying hard not to let the hot bile he felt boiling in his throat spew out onto the ground. He glanced at his father and instantly saw the heartbroken expression that had caused the tears to swell in the dark eyes that looked so longingly into his youngest son’s face.

“Anything?” Ben, his words choked and strained as he force them out. “Is he alive?”

“ADAM!” Hoss was beside himself. His tears had already spilled over and were running unchecked down his face.

“There it is!” Adam exclaimed. “I’ve found a pulse, it’s weak, but it’s there!”

Immediately Adam ripped opened the front of his brother’s shirt and standing astride his brother, grabbed the boy's belt and began lifting Joe’s body up and down, forcing air into his brother’s lungs.

“Breathe, son, breathe!” Ben encouraged as he watched the boy’s face for signs of life.

Joe’s lips moved slightly and then he began to sputter.

“That’s it short shanks, take a deep breath!” Hoss whispered.

When Joe’s mouth finally popped opened and the boy sucked in a mouthful of air, Hoss dabbed at the dampness on his face.

“He’s breathing! Joseph! Joseph!” Ben cried as he gathered his son into his arms and rocked back and forth.

The rope had been removed from around Joe’s neck and the nasty rope-burn that remained was a horrid reminder of what had almost happened.

“Here, Pa.” Adam had removed the cork from his canteen and handed it to his father.

Ben tried to take hold of the water receptacle but his hands were shaking so badly that he was unable to hold anything other than the precious bundle in his arms.

Adam looked into his father’s face. Ben was weeping; it was something that Adam had not seen his father do for many years. Adam momentarily closed his eyes, remembering the last time.

The spirited horse had come racing into the yard; the zealous rider glowing with the thrill of the ride when suddenly the horse stumbled, sending the beautiful Marie catapulting through the air. Ben’s wife, Joe’s mother, was dead as soon as she had hit the ground. What happened afterwards had seared its memory into Adam’s mind and heart, for his father had run to his fallen wife and had gathered her lovingly into his arms and wept, great tears of sorrow, much as he was now, with Marie’s son clutched against his breast.

Adam swallowed his own misery and placed a hand onto his father’s shoulder.

“Pa,” he said softly. “We need to get Joe to town, they have a doctor…and Joe needs one.” Adam waited; Ben said nothing other than the soft cooing sounds he made to Joe who had opened his eyes and was staring blankly up at his father.

“Pa…Adam’s right…Joe needs a doctor.”

Hoss placed both hands on his father’s shoulders, glanced at Adam and then tried to ease his distraught father to his feet. Ben refused to budge. He tightened his hold on his son, crushing Joe to his heart. When he glanced up, his weary brown eyes met Adam’s and his son could clearly see just how frightened his father had been at coming so near to losing his youngest son.

“Please, Pa…Joe needs tending to,” Adam said in a gentle voice that he hoped did not betray his own inner turmoil.

Cautiously, Adam slipped his hands under his brother’s body and eased himself up. His father rose at the same time, his hands still clinging to his son. As Adam turned, he nodded his head at Hoss, who took the hint and began gently guiding Ben toward his horse. Once he was sure that Ben was mounted, he turned to Adam and took Joe into his own arms and held him while Adam mounted his horse and then handed the semi-conscious boy up to his older brother.

By the time that the foursome had reached the nearest town, Ben had regained control of his emotions and his actions, much to the relief of both Adam and Hoss.

“The doctor’s office? Where’s it at?” Ben asked of a man in the street.

“That way, around the corner,” the stranger pointed his finger and then stood and watched as the Cartwrights made their way down the street.

Hoss helped Adam carry Joe into the office where a nurse met them the moment they entered.

“Oh my,” she muttered. “Bring him in here and put him on that bed, I’ll get the doctor,” she said as she opened a door that led to a back room and to the bed that she had pointed to. “I’ll be right back.”

Joe was placed carefully on the little bed and Ben grabbed a light blanket that was folded at the foot and spread it out over Joe.

“Pa…” Joe murmured in a tiny voice that edged on fear.

“I’m here son,” Ben said as he brushed back the dark curls.

Carefully he removed his son’s neckerchief. He was appalled at the burn that circled his son’s neck. His stomach churned as he fought against the sick feeling that caused it.

“I…didn’t…” Joe’s chin began to quiver and his fearful eyes filled with tears and then spilled over. His words were nearly inaudible.

The tiny droplets ran from the corners of his eyes and dripped into his ears. Ben wiped them away as he stood with his head bent low over Joe’s. He forced a smile, and tenderly caressed the boy’s cheek.

“Shh…don’t cry son…it’s all over. You’re safe…I won’t let anyone hurt you again, I promise,” whispered Ben.

Joe opened his mouth to try to speak, but Ben stopped him. “No…don’t try to talk. Whatever it is, it can wait for now.”

Joe shook his head and reached for his father’s hand. “I…have to…tell you…” he uttered in a hoarse, broken whisper.

His voice was raspy and it took all his dwindling strength just to force the words to the surface so that he might proclaim his innocence to his father.

His words were broken and strained and his voice hardly above a whisper as he pulled Ben to him.

“What is it son, that you want me to know?” Ben said.

He was forced to turn his head so that his ear was practically on top of Joe’s lips so that he could hear what Joe was trying to tell him.

“Didn’t…do…it…” Joe’s voice trailed off until Ben could no longer understand what Joe was saying. Joe’s hand had fallen away and now lay motionless on top of the blanket.

When Ben raised his head, Joe had closed his eyes. Ben looked worriedly at his two older sons.

“What did he say?” questioned Adam.

Ben pinched his lips tightly, “I’m not sure, it was hard to make out what he was trying to tell me, but it sounded like he was saying that he didn’t do it…whatever it might be.”

Adam glanced at Joe and then back at his father. “Maybe he was trying to tell you that he didn’t do whatever it was that he was hanged for.”

Before Ben could make a comment, the door opened, revealing the doctor who hurried to his patient’s bedside.

His eyes fell on the bright red burn mark that circled the youngest Cartwright’s neck. His fingers gently touched the area and the doctor pinched his lips tightly together in disgust.

“When a man’s hung, which is obviously what’s happened here, the least the hangman could do is to be sure the man’s dead,” the physician said softly.

“Marge, hand me the disinfectant and some bandages, please…and the salve.”

While the doctor waited for the needed items, his fingers carefully felt along Joe’s throat. He probed gently and then leaned closer for a better look at the burn.

“This boy is lucky his neck wasn’t broken. I can’t tell for sure about his vocal cords, they could be damaged. If they are, it’s possible that the boy will never speak again.”

“He was trying to whisper something to me before he passed out,” Ben said as he stepped around to the opposite side of the bed.

The doctor raised his head and looked up at Ben.

“That’s a good sign, but it means that he only spoke to you in a whispered voice. There could still be some damage that could prevent him from speaking in a normal tone of voice. Thank you Marge,” he said when the nurse handed him the salve and disinfectant.

It didn’t take the doctor long to finish what he was doing and when he had completed the task, he administered an injection into Joe’s arm.

“He can stay here tonight, Mr. Cartwright. I’ve given him something to make him sleep; he’ll need all of his strength come morning. Unfortunately, the sheriff will be by then to speak to your son. For obvious reasons, he’ll want to talk to your son and gather some facts. As much as I hate to say this, your son was hung for some reason. The sheriff will want to know why.”

Ben nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, I suspect he will, so would I,” Ben said looking at the doctor. “I appreciate what you’ve done for him, and for letting us keep him here. Thank you.” Ben pulled his wallet from his pocket and handed the doctor some bills. “I hope this will be enough.”

“It’s fine Mr. Cartwright. Please, I have a room in back, if your sons would help me move the boy in there, I think he will be more comfortable. There’s a cot as well, if you would like to stay with him?”

“Yes, I’d rather not leave him,” Ben informed Doctor Hayworth.

“I understand. Gentlemen, this way.”

Doctor Hayworth opened a door off to the side and allowed Adam and Hoss to carefully carry Joe into the spare room. Nurse Marge quickly pulled back the blanket and sheet and allowed Adam and Hoss to place Joe in to the bed. When they were finished settling their brother, she pulled up the blanket and tucked it in around Joe.

She smiled when she turned to Ben. “Just call if you need anything. I’ll bring you all some fresh coffee.”

Ben returned the smile, though his was forced, and tipped his head slightly. “Thank you ma’am, I could use some about now.”

Joe slept the remainder of the day and far into the night before stirring. Dawn was just breaking through the gray mist of what remained of the night when Joe’s eyes opened slightly, seeing his father sitting near the bed, his head slumped over and his eyes closed in sleep. Joe opened his mouth to call out, but nothing came forth. Frantically, Joe’s hands reached around his neck and he began yanking at the soft bandage that the doctor had so carefully wrapped about the rope burn that circled his entire neck.

Joe yelled out for his father, but he could not voice the fear that he believed spewed aloud. When he glanced at his father and saw that Ben was still sleeping, Joe kicked back the covers from his bed and began crawling off the side. His legs accidentally kicked his father’s leg, causing Ben to bolt upright.

“Joseph!” Ben called, “what on earth are you doing?” he demanded as he sprung to his feet and grabbed Joe by his shoulders and gently pushed him back down on the bed.

“Get back in bed, son!”

Joe seized his father’s arms and with one hand, pointed to his throat. He opened his mouth to try to speak, but still his words were silent. He looked anxiously into his father’s eyes as his own eyes began to brim with unshed tears.

Ben realized that his son was frightened and confused as he hurried to console the boy.

“It’s okay, son…the doctor said it might take you awhile to get your voice back. Now, please lie down,” encouraged Ben as he helped Joe back to bed and then covered him up with the blankets.

Ben turned to the bedside table and poured a glass of water, then handed it to Joe.

“Here son, trying drinking this. Is your throat sore?” he asked as he helped Joe raise his head and then hold the glass up to his lips.

Joe sipped some of the water and then pushed the glass away. He nodded his head yes allowing his head to drop back against the pillow. The tears had escaped and dripped slowly down from the corners of his eyes. When he glanced up at his father, Ben almost winced at the defeated expression he saw in his son’s eyes.

“Joe,” he said with more assurance than he was actually feeling.

Gently he picked up Joe’s hand and held it between his own two hands. He noted the small red ring around the wrist where the rope had cut into the boy’s flesh while his hands were tied behind his back and he gently caressed the spot with his thumb. Inside, Ben was livid at what had happened to his youngest son, his pride and joy, the boy who brought such happiness into his life when he had needed it the most. Silently at first and then vocally, he make Joe a promise, one in which he aimed to fulfill.

“Joe,” he repeated, “everything will be alright, son. I promise you. We’ll find the men who did this to you, I swear it, if it takes me the rest of my life, I will make them pay for this…this…barbarous act of injustice!”

Ben wiped the tears from his son’s face and leaned down, placing a kiss on the boy’s brow. He was surprised when Joe slipped his arms about his father’s neck and held them in place for several moments. When Ben at last raised his head, the tears were gone and Joe smiled slightly up at his father.

“Close your eyes, son, try to rest. The sheriff will be here in a couple of hours and he’s going to ask you some questions about what happened,” Ben said as he arranged the blankets again.

Ben saw Joe swallow and look doubtfully up at his father. He grabbed Ben’s hand and held on to it tightly for several moments as he closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before Joe had fallen back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that his father had remained close by.

“He’s awake now sheriff. The doctor said it was alright for you to talk to him for a short while,” Adam explained and then showed the sheriff to Joe’s room.

Joe was propped up in the bed. Ben stood on one side and Hoss on the other. At first glance they appeared to be standing guard over the boy, and Adam couldn’t refrain from smiling. The first impression that the sheriff must surely have gotten when he saw them, eyes wide in surprise, might have been that Ben Cartwright and this young giant of a man, was a force to be reckoned with.

“Mr. Cartwright, this is sheriff Lloyd Cooper, sheriff, Ben Cartwright, and this is one of his sons, Hoss, and I think you’ve already met his oldest son, Adam.” The doctor made the introductions. He then turned to Joe and then back to the sheriff. “This lucky young man, is Joseph Cartwright.”

Sheriff Cooper shook each Cartwright’s hand, beginning with Ben’s and finally Little Joe’s. “Mind if I sit?” he asked no one in particular as he pulled a chair close to the bed.

He watched Joe for several moments before speaking and then cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?” he asked the boy.

Joe nodded his head indicating that he was all right.

“The doctor tells me that you are having a hard time talking. He seems to think it is only temporary, I certainly hope so, young man. Considering, I’ll try to make all my questions yes and no answers, how’s that?”

Again, Joe nodded his head.

“Good, first off, Joe…do you know who the men were that did this?”

Joe shook his head no.

“No one called anyone by name?” the sheriff asked as he made notes.

Joe glanced nervously over at his father and then quickly at the sheriff. The sheriff had not seen the silent exchange between father and son. When the sheriff looked up, Joe shook his head no.

“You sure?”

Again Joe nodded yes.

“Joe, can you show me by holding up your fingers, how many men where there?”

Joe held up eight fingers.

“Eight…that sure didn’t give you very good odds,” Sheriff Cooper said softly.

“Mr. Cartwright,” the sheriff had turned to Ben, addressing him. “Late last night two men brought in the bodies of a man and woman…they had been shot, both of them. The man’s name was John Marsh, the woman, Lilly, was his wife.”

Ben gasped, “Did you say John Marsh?”

“Yes, that’s right, why, did you know him?”

“Well…yes. That’s where Joseph was going to buy cattle,” explained Ben.

The sheriff looked back at Joe and studied the boy’s face. It was ashen and the boy wore a look of pain and fear embedded in his expression.

“Joe,” the sheriff began. “Did you see either Mr. Marsh or his wife when you were there?”

Joe had seen a man, he had supposed that the man had been Marsh, but how could he tell the sheriff that? He held his hands out in a gesture of helplessness.

“Let me rephrase that question so you can answer it with either yes or no. Did you see and speak to a man?”

Joe nodded his head yes.

“And you spoke with him, about buying his cattle?” the sheriff quizzed.

Joe nodded his head yes and then glanced at his father. There was so much he wanted to say, but his voice could not produce the words.

“I take it you got a bill of sale, and the money?”

Joe’s head nodded up and down.

“Do you still have it?” the sheriff asked.

A look of fear flooded Joe’s hazel eyes and he shook his head no and then Ben saw his son gulp.

“Joe…did the men who…hung you…take the paper?” Ben leaned down close to Joe and looked him in the eye, hoping to relieve some of the inner fear that he could see staking claim to his son.

Joe took a gulp of air and nodded yes to his father. He tried speaking, but his throat was so sore he could not form the words. Ben saw the boy’s eyes fill with water and he quickly took Joe’s hand and squeezed it gently within the folds of his own.

“Shh…it’s alright son, don’t get upset.”

Ben glanced up at the sheriff. “Are you about finished Sheriff? My son needs to rest.”

The sheriff stood up from the chair he had been sitting in and turned to Ben. “Just one more question and then I’ll be finished.”

He looked down at Joe. “The man you paid and who signed your bill of sale, did he have a long scar running down the side of his face?"

Joe’s eyes widened in surprise and he glanced quickly at his father. He opened his mouth and mouthed the word ‘yes’, and nodded his head up and down.

The sheriff pinched his lips tightly together and glanced at the men in the room. “I was afraid of that,” he muttered.

Ben stood to his feet. He watched the expression on the sheriff’s face as he spoke.

“What do you mean by that?”

“The man…the man that supposedly sold your son those steers was brought in over the back of his horse early this morning. He had nearly ten thousand dollars on him and John Marsh’s pocket watch in his own pocket. He’d been shot in the back.”

Adam moved around the corner of his brother’s bed and stood facing the sheriff. “What are you saying, that the man was the one who killed Marsh and his wife?”

Sheriff Cooper sighed deeply. “I reckon so, Mr. Cartwright, the finger of guilt certainly points to him. Seems that you brother there, must have happened along as Jack Marlow, that’s the man my deputy brought in this morning. Anyway, the boy there must have happened by as Jack was fixing to leave. Unknown to your brother, Jack had already killed John and Lillie.”

“Then them men what hung Joe…they hung an innocent man,” Hoss growled.

His eyes grew dark and his anger began shadowing his naturally docile features.

“What’cha gonna do about them?” he demanded.

Cooper faced the Cartwrights and shook his head. “Can’t do nuthin’ to’em, all the evidence pointed at your brother and besides, out here in this part of the…”

“They didn’t know he wasn’t guilty…they didn’t take time to find out from the way I see it. And how about a trial…they took the law into their own hands, shouldn’t they stand accountable for that?” demanded Ben.

“Yeah…ya gonna try to find out who they are and do somethin’ about it?” growled Hoss. “Cause if’n ya ain’t gonna, we will!”

The sheriff held his hands up to silence the angry trio. “Now you hold on just a minute, the three of you will do nothin’…do ya understand that? This is my job and I don’t need no man ridin’ with me that goes off half cocked!”

Cooper turned to Ben and pointed a finger at him. “You take your son home, all three of them and I’ll see to finding the men who hung your boy there, do you understand?”

Ben glared at the other man. His anger was evident on his face and he was hard pressed to keep it from showing.

“I’ll take them home, all three of them. But you understand this, I’ll be back. I want the men who did this,” Ben proclaimed as he pointed toward Joe. “They should be tried for attempted murder…”

“Pa,” said Adam softly, as he placed his hand on Ben’s shoulder to calm his father.

“Sheriff Cooper, we’ll go home, but as soon as Joe is able, we’ll all be back.” Adam glanced at his father. “I assure you, we won’t go off half cocked, all we want is to see that justice is served.”

“What’ll we do now? That kid dun seen every last one of us,” growled Frank.

“We ain’t going to do a thing…”

“But Boss, the boy knows your name, he knows you’re the one who ordered him hung. And the fact that he didn’t tell the sheriff who dun it, can only mean that he aims on comin’ after you,” Jim, the man who had questioned Zeb at the hangin’ tree, questioned him for the second time in two days.

Zeb took a puff on his cigarette and blew the smoke over his head. He was leaning back against the wall in his chair. Another long drag on the cigarette and Zeb leaned forward, flicking the butt out into the yard. He glanced at his men who had gathered around him.

“And when he does, I’ll be ready for him. Hell, he ain’t much more than a boy. He can’t be a day over eighteen,” Zeb snickered.

“He has family…two brothers and his old man. And from what I hear tell Cartwright’s got money…and lots of it…he’ll bring more men with him. I dun a little askin’ round, and Ben Cartwright prizes nothin’ more than his sons, especially that youngest. I seen the look on his face when he rode out of town, I’m tellin’ ya Zeb, the man’s a force to reckon with,” Smitty stated.

Zeb stood to his feet. “Well then, I suppose I’d better come up with a plan,” he said.

“Jim, saddle some horses,” ordered Zeb.

Frank and Smitty glanced at one another. “What’cha got planned, Boss?” Smitty asked with a grin. He turned his head and spat tobacco juice unto the ground.

“We’re gonna take a little trip,” muttered Zeb.

“Yeah? Where too?” Frank asked.

Zeb had been staring off into the horizon but now looked down at the two men from the top step where he stood.

“To find that boy. My guess is, them Cartwright’s won’t live to get home. They might just run into an accident.” His laugher was loud and menacing.

“Get your things together and be ready to ride in an hour.” Zeb turned and walked into the house.

Less than an hour later, Zeb and the others, Frank, Smitty, and Jim were mounted up and on their way.

Ben and his sons had been on the trail for only a short time when Joe suddenly pulled back on Cochise’s reins, halting the horse suddenly. Ben turned in the saddle, seeing Joe stop so quickly and turned his horse around and rode back to Joe.

Joe’s face was drained of all coloring and had turned a pasty shade of white. Tiny beads of perspiration beaded on the boy’s brow. Ben noted how his son struggled with his emotions and the fear that had suddenly cloud his eyes.

“Joe, what’s wrong, boy?” Ben said in a gentle voice. “You feeling poorly?”

Adam and Hoss, who stared at the sudden transformation on their brother’s face, joined Ben.

“What’s wrong?” Hoss whispered.

“I don’t know, he looks as if he’s seen a ghost,” muttered Ben.

He inched Buck closer to Joe’s horse and leaned over, placing a firm hand on Joe’s arm.

“Son?”

Joe’s trance was broken as he turned tear filled eyes on his father. He swallowed hard and then lowered his head so that his family could not see the swell of tears that clouded his vision. He felt himself shiver as if he were cold, though the heat was nearly unbearable.

“Adam, Hoss, give me a minute alone with your brother, please,” Ben requested.

“Sure Pa,” Adam replied and then motioned for Hoss to ride along with him.

Ben waited until Adam and Hoss were out of hearing range and then turned again to Joe.

“What is it, Joe? What has you so frightened?” Ben urged in a compassionate voice.

Joe raised his head slowly and looked at his father. Ben could see the torment in the younger man’s expression and his heart went out to his son. Joe swallowed again and pointed off to the east.

Ben followed with his eyes, the direction that Joe had pointed. He inhaled deeply and then quickly turned to his son.

“Joseph, I’m so sorry…I didn’t realize we would have to come back this way.”

Ben leaned forward and took Cochise’s reins and turned both horses away from the sight of the old oak tree where Joe had come so close to losing his life.

Joe did not put up an argument as Ben took charge of his horse. Once, he looked back over his shoulder at the tree and the memory that had seared itself in his mind and heart forever. When he had lost sight of the hangin’ tree, Joe lowered his head. Two tiny droplets of water slipped from beneath his lowered lashes and dripped onto his green jacket, unseen by his father.

For the remainder of the long, hot day, Joe rode in silence, making no effort to join in the gentle banter between his brothers or in the small talk that his father tried to entice him into.

By the time that dusk had begun to settle in, all four Cartwrights were tired, though none complained as they pulled their horses to a final stop for the night.

“Ya reckon the boys got home all right with the herd?” Hoss asked Ben as he pulled the saddle from Chubb’s broad back.

“I’m sure they did, son,” Ben said, doing the same.

He glanced over at Joe who had already removed his saddle and who had settled himself beneath the shade of an ancient oak. Joe had his head propped back against the trunk and had closed his eyes.

“What happened back there on the trail this afternoon?” Adam asked as he joined his father and Hoss who had begun to set up camp for the night.

Ben glanced at Joe to be sure he was still dozing and then at both his sons.

“I didn’t realize the direction we were moving and when he stopped, it was near that tree…the one where they…hmm…left Joe,” Ben sputtered.

Saying the words were difficult for him, for the memory alone of what his son had been made to suffer, and the fear that Joe must surely have felt and so obviously still carried with him, caused Ben’s words to become lodged in the deepest depths of his throat. Ben lowered his head for a long moment.

“I didn’t realize it either, Pa…I’m sorry,” Adam said in a low voice.

“No need, son, I should have been more aware. But the only thing I had on my mind was getting Joe out of there and home as soon as possible,” explained Ben.

“Joe…wake up son,” Ben gently nudged Joe’s shoulder to wake him. “Supper’s ready, Joe.”

Joe slowly opened his eyes, seeing his father’s face before him in the soft glow of the campfire. Joe returned the smile.

“I must…” Joe began to cough lightly and grabbed his throat. He glanced up at the dark eyes that watched him with a worried expression.

Joe cleared his throat and then spoke in a whispered voice. “For a minute I’d forgotten what happened,” he said sadly.

“Try not to think about it right now, son, Hoss has us something to eat. Come on over to the fire where you can get warm,” suggested Ben, offering Joe a hand up.

Joe clasped his hand into Ben’s and allowed his father to help him stand up. Almost sluggishly he followed Ben to the fire and accepted a plate of beans from Hoss who smiled up at him.

“Ain’t much little brother, but it beats starving,” Hoss chuckled.

Joe took a seat and looked down at his plate of beans. “I don’t know, Hoss, starving might be a better option than having to eat your cooking,” Joe said with the first real smile since his ordeal.

Hoss put a mock frown on his face and reached to take Joe’s plate from his hand. “Fine, I’ll eat…”

Joe grabbed back his plate, giggling, “Oh no you don’t, I saw Pa doctoring these up earlier, they shouldn’t be too bad.” Quickly Joe began spooning the beans into his mouth.

Ben watched the expression on Joe’s face as Joe winced as the first bite went down. He glanced up to see his family watching him.

“Hurts to swallow,” he said unhappily. “Maybe I’d better stick with just coffee.” Joe handed the plate to Hoss who looked disappointed. “Sorry Hoss,” Joe muttered as he poured himself a cup of coffee and then standing walked back to his bedroll.

Hoss followed his brother’s retreating steps with his eyes. When Joe had settled himself, Hoss turned to Adam and his father.

“Poor kid,” he muttered. “He must’va been scared half outta his mind.” Hoss took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it escape from his lungs. “So help me, if I get my hands on the man who put that rope around Joe’s neck, I’ll…”

“You’ll do nothing, Hoss, and neither will you Adam, is that understood?” Ben glared.

“But Pa…”

“No! Understand me…this is a job for the law, and we will let them handle it,” announced Ben.

“I thought you said we were going back?” Adam spoke up to say.

Ben let out a long sigh of his own.

“I know that’s what I said, and I know I promised Joe that I would find the men who did this to him, and I will, but first I want to take Joe home where he can feel safe. He has had a terrible fright, I can’t imagine what might have been running through his head when he realized that those men were actually going to hang him.”

Ben made a soft groan and stood to his feet, turning his back to his older sons. The thoughts of what Joe must have suffered weighed heavy on the compassionate father’s heart.

Adam swapped knowing looks with Hoss and then stood up. He stepped close to his father and placed a loving hand on Ben’s shoulder.

“Pa, I know what you’re thinking…and you can’t blame yourself for this.”

Ben turned dark eyes toward Adam; his expression was one of anger, not directed at his son, but at what had been.

“I do blame myself. I sent a boy to do a man’s job and…”

“That’s not so, and you, of all people, should know that. Joe’s no boy; he’s a young man doing a man’s job, carrying a man’s responsibly to his duty and to his family. You said as much, you said for us to stop thinking of Little Joe as a boy and give him the credit that’s due a man…you said…”

“I know what I said!” snapped Ben as he moved away. “He’s a boy…” Ben spun around and faced Adam and Hoss, who had joined Adam. Ben pointed to Adam and then Hoss.

“You’re a boy, you’re a boy…to me, all three of you will always be my boys. You’ve grown into manhood, you act like a man, you live like a man, but understand one thing…to me you are my boys! And no one, no one…has a right to do to one of my boys what was done to your brother, and get away with it! “

Ben stomped off and faded into the darkness. He could be heard moving about in the shadows for several moments and then all fell silent.

Hoss gave Adam a weary look. “Wonder where he’s headin’?”

“Probably down to the creek. He needs time alone Hoss, he’s blaming himself for what happened to Joe,” said Adam as he sat back down on his bedroll.

His eyes ventured in Joe’s direction. “Wonder where Joe made off to?”

Hoss followed Adam’s line of vision and then scratched his head. “Probably had to relieve himself.”

Hoss lowered his massive frame down onto his bedroll and picked up his plate of beans and resumed eating his supper.

Adam snuggled down into his blanket and covered his face with his hat. Within minutes he was asleep.

Hoss finished his supper and made quick work of cleaning up before he settled in for the night. He slipped into his bedroll, giving one last glance in Joe’s direction to see that Joe had not yet returned. Ben stepped into the edge of firelight just as Hoss pulled the blanket up around his chin.

“Where’s Joe?” Ben asked, leaning down and whispering so as not to awaken Adam.

“Not sure Pa, guess he had to take a little trip to the woods. Don’t worry, I heard him moving about a coupl’a minutes ago,” offered Hoss as he scrunched up his face and rubbed his nose. Yawning, the big man closed his eyes and was soon sleeping.

Ben poured himself another cup of coffee and leaned back against his saddle. His eyes kept roaming toward the empty bedroll where Joe had spread his gear. He wondered what was keeping the boy, though he figured that having caught a nap, Joe might have done as he had done, and being unable to sleep, had ventured down to the creek to be alone.

Ben tossed the remnants of coffee from his tin cup and set the cup on a stone near the fire. He scooted down into his bedroll and with one last quick glance at Joe’s gear Ben closed his eyes and fell into a deep slumber.

“What are we going to do with’em, now that we got’em?” Smitty dared to ask.

“Tie him across your horse. Make sure he doesn’t wake up, if he does, hit him on the head again. We’re going to go back to the ranch…”

“Back to the ranch? Why for God’s sake?” Frank questioned.

Zeb Willis was stooped over the unconscious boy and jabbed at the still form with the toe of his boot.

“Cause, it’ll be the last place that anyone would ever think to look for him. And besides,” said Zeb as he moved to his horse. “The deputy said that the kid didn’t tell the sheriff who hung him, and it isn’t likely that he’s had a chance to tell his old man. Seems logical that his family won’t have a clue as to where to start looking for him. Now hurry it up, sling him across that horse.”

Smitty and Frank gathered Joe’s body into their arms and without much ado or concern for how they handed the body, they slung Joe, face down, across the saddle of a horse. Frank tied Joe’s hands tightly together while Smitty make sure Joe’s ankles were tight and then slipped the rope under the horse’s belly. Frank took the loose end and pulling the rope snug, tied it to Joe’s wrists, being sure that Joe’s body would not be bounced off the horse. The rope was then tossed over Joe’s back, criss-crossed and secured.

“What are you goin’ do with the boy once ya got him back to your place?” Jim, the oldest man of the group asked.

Zeb had mounted up and he glanced through the darkness at the motionless form and shrugged his shoulders.

“Don’t rightly know, might hang him again…but this time, I’ll make sure he’s good and dead…or I might take him to the high country and let Ma Farrow have him,” Zeb snickered at the joke he had made.

Jim looked back at Joe and made a disgusted face that he kept hidden from his boss. His mind was racing at the image Zeb’s words had conjured up of Ma Farrow and what she had been know to do to other non-suspecting young men.

Jim knew all about Ma Farrow, she was a nasty, foul smelling, snaggled-tooth old lady who ruled the mountain. Her man, Seth Farrow had been killed nearly ten years ago. Seth had been accused of murdering a rich cattle baron’s son, which Ma swore on her own son’s grave that her man had not committed the murder, but no one believed her. Since that time, Ma had moved herself to the highest peak of the mountain and had built herself a nasty reputation. She hated all men, young and old, especially the young men. It had been a young man who had placed the hangman’s noose bout her husband’s neck and then left him swinging from the high branch right before the woman’s eyes.

It was whispered among the local gossips that Ma was touched in the head and they had raised up their sons with the knowledge that they stay far away from Ma Farrow’s section of the mountain. Over the years, several young men had disappeared, never