THE GUNFIGHTER
This
story is a sequel to False Witness and although it would be possible to read on
it’s own, you will need to know the background about
the character Butch Thomas and how he and the Cartwright family came to know of
each other.
I have
changed my mind slightly for this story and it will take place only 3 years
after Thomas was sent to prison for the attempted murder and kidnapping of
Little Joe Cartwright. That makes Joe 19
years old for this story and suits the theme of the story a little better. I was originally going to have it five years
afterwards at the age of 21 years.
Hope
you enjoy this one as much as False Witness:
Three years earlier these few words echoed in Joe
Cartwright’s memory:
“SOMEDAY I WILL COME BACK. YOU AND I WILL MEET AGAIN – I PROMISE”
and now the story turns another page
and continues:
“Joe,
there is nothing out there but a herd of cows,” Hoss said, trying to reassure
his brother. But he could plainly see
that Joe was not ready to be comforted.
How
could he describe the way he felt. He
could see the dubiously looks from the ranch hands and the uneasy glances from
his family. Was it even possible to put
into words the cold sweat that ran down his back or the way the hairs on the
back of his neck stood to attention with the fear coursing through his entire body.
Adam
tried a different tactic. If they
couldn’t ease Joe’s tension by telling him there was nothing out there, he
might be able to try something else.
“What do you see out there, Joe?”
“Nothing!” Joe said firmly, knowing it was an outright lie.
What
Joe really wanted to tell his family was that it wasn’t a ‘something’ out there
but a ‘somebody’. He couldn’t explain
the feeling he had inside. It was like
his insides were twisting into knots in trepidation. The fear gripped him and seized him from
within. He tried to find the words or an
explanation, but there wasn’t either.
“Forget
it, just a bit jumpy tonight, for some reason,” Joe gave as a haphazard
excuse. He felt like he was tumbling
over his own words, but what he was really trying to do was hide the fear that
had appeared from nowhere.
As
is to signal that he no longer wanted to take any part of the conversation, Joe
turned away from his family, glancing over at the other hands as he went over
to his bedroll. The hands gave him
varying looks of sympathy or confusion.
All of them had known Joe for quite a while, but none of them had been
around long enough to know what had happened 3 years ago. They had yet to see fear take a hold of the
youngest Cartwright.
They
had seen his energetic, hard-working, and sometimes prank like nature, and had
come to admire him as a friend and co-worker.
He was easier to approach than Adam or Ben himself, but still expected
the work to be completed at the end of the day.
Tonight,
they were taken aback by the sudden change in Joe’s demeanour. They knew he was still edgy since the
accident with Tom Withers and his death.
But none of his actions this evening seemed to be as a result of that
incident. Something
different entirely.
Ben
didn’t want to leave it unfinished or without an explanation as to what Joe
thought he had seen. It was clear to
everyone else that evening that something has scared Joe quite badly. They were camped out on an open plain, with
no vegetation within one hundred metres or so on
either side.
The
cattle seemed calm enough at the moment and showed no signs of uneasiness that
might indicate that a mountain lion was about.
The hands had been finishing off their meals and enjoying a quiet chat
with each other before getting into their bedrolls.
By
the time Ben walked over to Joe, his son had laid down
and turned his body away from everyone else.
He was not sleeping, though, and Ben knew it a tell-tale sign that Joe
was building up a wall of defence around himself once more. He had done it on many occasions in the past,
even within the last few weeks.
Later
that evening, after the hands had retired to bed, Joe got up from his bedroll
and walked the short distance to the edge of the camp fire. His family had gone to sleep a few hours ago,
leaving the camp silent and still.
Quiet enough for Joe to think as he looked out over the herd of cattle.
The
fear that had coursed through him earlier that evening had lessened a lot. It was not gone altogether, but a shadow
still remained. He couldn’t understand
himself what had caused him to feel so afraid.
It
was just before dawn that he started moving around the camp. Stirring up the coals of the fire to start
some coffee for the men before the work started. Hop Sing came about half and hour later and
was more than surprised to see the youngest Cartwright already awake. The tiredness etched on Joe’s tanned skin
told the Cantonese man that Joe had never gone to bed that night.
“Little
Joe, feel better?” Hop Sing asked cautiously.
“Joe
feels just fine, thank you Hop Sing,” he replied, a small smile creeping over
his face at the man’s outward show of concern.
No doubt his family would be asking the same question when they awoke.
Twenty
minutes later, Ben emerged from behind one of the wagons, fully dressed and
prepared to start a full and long day of work.
With any luck today, they would be back at the Ponderosa before sunset
and could lie in their own beds tonight instead of the hard baked ground.
“Good
Morning, Joseph,” Ben greeted his son, his face scanning his features for any
signs that the previous night still plagued his thoughts. He noted the same tiredness that Hop Sing had
seen, but his son’s demeanour was a whole lot better than it had been last
night.
“Morning, Pa,” Joe said, not looking directly at his father
as he spoke. He really didn’t have a
plausible explanation for the way he had reacted last night. He didn’t feel like sharing he deepest thoughts with anyone right at this time. “Coffee is ready if you would like some.”
Ben
quirked an eyebrow at his son’s attempts to avoid talking about what had
occurred the night before. He didn’t feel
like alienating his son so early in the morning. Once they were back
home, perhaps there would be a little more time to unwind and get Joe to open
up a little.
Joe
avoided talking to his brothers much as he did his father, choosing instead to
be saddling his horse ready for the long return journey home when they came to
have their breakfast. Ben mentioned his
notions to Adam and Hoss about Joe evasiveness, telling them to keep a closer
eye on him today, in case something else happened before they were home.
The
first few hours of the journey home were concentrated on keeping the herd
together. Despite their calm mood last
night, something has spooked them this morning and it took all of the hands
riding to the best of their ability and keeping their mounts under strict
control to defuse what could rapidly become a dangerous situation.
Joe’s
own riding skills stood out today, but there was a marked difference in how he
positioned himself and Cochise against the herd of cattle. On the journey out from the Ponderosa, Joe
had wanted to remain at the rear of all the riders, choosing to keep to himself. He had
eventually been coaxed into riding with his brothers, but that had taken some
encouragement on Adam’s part.
Today,
Joe made sure that he was towards the front of the herd. Wanting to keep with the lead steers and
frequently stealing glances over his shoulder as if expecting to see
something. Ben couldn’t help but feel a
deep gnawing in the pit of his stomach that all of this was leading up to something
that was being kept from him.
Adam
had seen his brother glance over his right shoulder twice, and once over his
left in the space of half an hour. The
closer they got to the Ponderosa, the more nervous and agitated Joe became. He had even snapped at two of the other
riders for something that would have been considered trivial. It only went further to convince Joe’s
family that something was eating way at him on inside.
About
2 miles from the Ponderosa, the fear that had steadily been growing within Joe
again over the afternoon took hold so rapidly it took his breath away. He couldn’t have explained it even if the
right words could be found. He didn’t
know why, but his heart and mind where telling him to run and don’t look back.
Without
warning, Joe spurred Cochise into a full gallop, flying along the dirt trail
with the wind in his face and a cloud of dust left in his wake. Cochise seemed to pick up on her rider’s
anxiety and fear, maintaining the speed, her black mane flattening along her
neck.
“Joe,
wait!” Hoss tried to shout after his younger brother, but his words were not
heeded and they all watched as Joe raced towards home as if the very devil
himself was chasing him down.
“We
have to get to the source of this, Pa,” Adam commented, perplexed and concerned
about his brother’s unusual mood swings.
“What would cause him to ride like that?” he asked,
the same question already on the minds of his brother and father.
With
his family still bringing the cattle, Joe arrived back at the Ponderosa to an
empty yard. At first he didn’t
dismount, looking around expecting to find something different. Home was supposed to be where you felt safe
and protected. But even after racing
Cochise all the way to here now, he couldn’t help but feel that the Ponderosa
was the last place he should be right now.
Gingerly,
Joe got of his horse and led her over to the barn. Once inside, he went about his usual routine
of rubbing her down, though the fear cause a few of the strokes to be a little
too hard. Cochise whinnied
her displeasure, nudging her master with the tip of her nose. Joe gave her a soft pat in apology.
By
the time Ben and his sons rode into the yard, Joe was just emerging from the barn
after seeing to his horse. He gave a
wan smile, knowing that there would be questions coming. When trying to come up with an excuse for
dashing off so suddenly, the answer came easier than he might have first
thought.
“Are
you alright, Joe?” Ben asked, still mounted atop Buck. He eyed his youngest son, carefully looking
for any sign of what was bothering him.
“What
made you run off like that, Little Joe?” Hoss asked more directly, with still
with concern on his face.
“Sorry,
my hand has been bothering me all day, I just wanted to get home and see if Hop
Sing had any of that rubbing balm to try and help,” Joe said, holding his
injured hand. He spoke the partial
truth. His hand had been bothering him
for most of the cattle drive, but it now became a convenient explanation to
avoid admitting to himself that he was scared.
“But
Joseph, Hop Sing is still in the wagon behind us with the rest of the hands,”
Ben pointed out, putting a hole right through his son’s alibi. “He will still be a few minutes away. “Why don’t you go inside and see if you
can’t soak it in some warm water for a few minutes until he arrives and unloads
the wagon.”
“That
sounds like a good idea, Pa,” Joe said, leaving the sentence unfinished and
walking towards the homestead. It was
just as Joe reached for the door handle and the beginnings of old memories
began to haunt him once more that Joe stole a last glance over his shoulder
once more.
Half
an hour later and Ben had settled Buck into the barn for the night and the hands
were seeing to helping Hop Sing unload the chuck wagon. Ben mentioned to the little Cantonese man
about Joe’s hand hurting again. Hop Sing
promised to do what he could.
When
Ben finally managed to enter the front door, he was most surprised to see Joe
reclining back against the settee. His
feet where resting on the table, still with his boots on. His injured left hand was submerged in a
large bowl of water. Joe’s eyes were
closed, but a slight frowning on his forehead indicated that he had yet to find
sleep or rest.
Ben
moved as quietly as he could around to get a better view of his son, trying
hard not to disturb the quietness the empty living room offered. Maybe Joe could begin to drift off if he was
allowed a few more moments of peace. Ben
dipped a finger into the bowl of water and found the temperature to be only
tepid. Probably wouldn’t aid Joe’s
aching hand much, but he loathed to add any more and risk preventing Joe from
unwinding.
Joe
started from his drowsy position as soon as he heard the approaching footsteps
of Adam and Hoss into the house. Hop
Sing soon appeared with the small red jar in hand and a fresh bandage. “Lil Joe be more comfortable in his own bed,” the little man
suggested.
Although
spoken softly, Hop Sing’s words were heeded as though they were an order. Joe allowed his father to help him to his
feet, surprised at how shaky his legs felt and how tired he had begun to feel
in just the few minutes of resting on the couch. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep
his eyes open and longed just to sleep.
Once
they had successfully navigated the staircase, Ben led Joe to the edge of the
bed and allowed him to lower his tired and aching body onto the soft
mattress. Hop Sing busied himself on the
opposite side, Joe barely feeling his touch as he gently took his injured hand
and begun to remove the older and now soiled bandages.
Hop
Sing smiled to himself as Joe lay back against the pillow, his eyelids barely
lifting at the administrations to his hand.
Using a soft cloth and warm water, Hop Sing bathed the knuckles with
care and made sure that the wound was thoroughly clean. Next he applied a small smear of the healing
balm and then made sure that the medicinal herbs did their job by wrapping a
clean white piece of bandaging around the hand.
“Hand
is much cleaner now. A little bruising
from using rope on cows, but it fade in a few days,”
Hop Sing said to Ben. Ben was relieved,
not having given much thought to the idea that any of the rough treatment Joe
would have put his hands through from helping out with the cattle would cause
irritation to the already injured hand.
“Joe
needs to get some rest,” Ben now said, looking down at his son. “He didn’t sleep very well last night, if at
all. He is trying to bottle everything
up again. He doesn’t want any of us to
know that he is wrestling with his fears and emotions inside. Though, it is obvious to us all that he is
suffering.”
“Hop
Sing think number three son will sleep well this night,” the Cantonese man
offered Ben in reassurance. Joe
certainly looked tired enough to sleep through undisturbed. “Hop Sing clean up kitchen,” he said now,
exiting from the room and leaving Ben alone with his slumbering son.
Ben
had already told Joe that he could come to any of them if something was
bothering him. Anyone of them would
listen, if only to hear Joe describe the fears he had. They had yet to understand what causing him
to built up walls of defence around himself
again.
Tom
Wither’s death was still weighed heavily on his heart, Ben knew this. But there was something different about his
reaction around the camp fire last night that made him think that it wasn’t
Tom’s ghost that haunted Joe.
“You
need to give yourself some time, Joseph,” Ben wanted to say to Joe as he
slept. He reached out a hand, wanting to
caress his cheek and allow his touch to reassure his son that he was safe. He stopped though, just before his fingertips
rested on the tan, smooth skin. Instead,
he placed a kiss on his son’s forehead, amidst the wayward curls. “Don’t shut me out of your life, Joseph.”
Ben
quietly left the room, hoping that a new dawn would bring peace for his son and
a sense of normality back to his life.
He didn’t want to assign any demanding work around the ranch to his son,
but knew that Joe would seek work as a source of trying to avoid his troubles
and ignore the signs that he needed to find a way to cope and move on with his
life.
Joe
slept deeply for about 4 hours that night before the dreams began to invade his
peaceful slumber yet again. At first he
awoke, not knowing what had caused him to do so. As he took stock of everything around him, be
became aware that his hand was throbbing quite a bit.
He
took the bandaged hand out from underneath the bedclothes and began to examine
it more closely. The whiteness of the
new bandage made the injury stand out.
Joe attempted to flex the fingers into a fist, but stopped as the
tendons and muscles protested. It was
going to take more time than he would like to admit in healing.
As
he continued to think about the injury and the restrictions that it might place
upon his working routine, more deeper thoughts began
to plague him. He thought back to Tom
losing his arm and what the losing of a limb might have meant to his lifestyle
if he had not taken his own life.
Joe
recalled his usage of the cutlery at the dining room table a few nights before
and how clumsy and inconsistent his movements seemed to be. The injury had been sustained to his left
hand. His natural
hand. The one he relied on most
to do simple things like tie off a rope on a steer. To pull his boots on first
thing in the morning. To button a shirt. And most importantly of all, his hand for his gun.
Joe
pulled himself into a sitting position, the desire to sleep now long escaping
him. He looked down at his hand,
wondering what he would do if he wasn’t able to use his hand for his gun. He tried to flex his fingers again, grunting
slightly and hissing the pain that ran down the knuckles and into his wrist.
Even
if he could hold a pistol in his hand, the resistance in his muscles to react
would make his firing time slow. He
wouldn’t be able to rely on the speed and accuracy he had devoted hours of
practice to. How would he defend himself
with a weapon if it became necessary?
The
feeling of uselessness seemed to multiply as the hand of the clock moved closer
to dawn. It was only now that his eyes
rested on his right hand. The one that wasn’t adorned by a bandage and had not been hurt. Something in the back of his mind made him
attempt to flex the fingers on his right hand.
The
action was slow at first and deliberate, as if to
detect any stiffness or resistance to the same muscles that impeded his left
hand. There was none that he could
immediately detect. He tried for a
second and third time, carefully waiting for any pain. Perhaps he could use his right hand for his
gun until his left healed fully.
The
notion certainly sounded plausible. But even upon flexing his fingers like he
would before using his left hand for firing his gun, he could feel the
awkwardness of his fist and how different this hand felt trying to mimic the
actions of his natural hand. There was
still an hour or so before his father or brothers would be wake and ready to
start the day. Maybe he could go
downstairs and bring his gun back to his room to test his theory.
Wiping
the lingering tiredness from his eyes, his mind firmly fixed on wanting to know
if he would be able to use his right hand to shoot or not. He opened the door silently and slowly,
not wanting the slightest creak to come from the solid wood and
metal hinges.
The
hallway and stairs were all quiet. The
doors to Adam and Hoss’s rooms remained closed. He waited for a few more moments, listening
for any sign that his brothers were awake yet.
It took almost fifteen minutes for him to reach the bottom of the
staircase that lead into the living room.
He paused every second or third step, making
sure that his movements were not being watched or heard by his family.
By
the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, his hands were slightly clamming
with the deception he was about to do.
He knew what his father’s stern rules were when it came to guns being in
the house. Ben had
taught his boys from a very early age that weapons of any kind where not
to be abused, nor were they to be taken out of the living room to anywhere else
in the house. That was especially so
for the boy’s bedrooms.
The
need to know, though, overrode any rationalisation of rules and what danger
could come from taking his gun to his room.
Carefully watching the kitchen doorway and listening for any sign that
the little Cantonese man had already started his day. As quickly and quietly as he was able to, he
grasped his gun belt and turned to return to his room.
For
a brief moment, he considered hiding it underneath his clothing in case one of
his family should see him before he could make it
inside his room. But upon looking down
at his nightshirt, he came to the conclusion that concealment would not be an
option. He started climbing the stairs
again, his heart beating a little more rapidly. He let out an audible sigh of relief when
he reached the sanctuary of his room and was able to lock the door behind
himself.
Now
being able to concentrate fully on what he needed to know, Joe moved back to
the bed and held the gun belt in front on his lap. He wanted to test how the gun felt in his
unnatural hand, and he guessed the best place to start was right now, before he
even considered drawing it. Using his
right hand, he carefully brought the weapon out of the holster.
Joe
berated himself harshly; feeling like this was the first time he had ever held
a gun before. But to be totally honest
with himself, that is exactly what it felt like. The first precaution to take, seeing as how
he had deliberately disobeyed one of Pa’s number one rules concerning guns in
the house; was to remove the bullets and ensure that no mishap, accidental or
otherwise could occur.
Needing
both hands to do this task, he held the gun in his left hand briefly, knowing
that he couldn’t risk the gun falling out of his hands and onto the floor. Until he was confident and knew he could use
his right hand correctly, he removed each of the cartridges with his left hand.
With
the gun itself now rendered harmless, he felt a little more relaxed about it
being in his room, but kept stealing glances towards the door, expecting to
hear approaching footsteps at any moment.
Looking
more intently at the gun in his lap, Joe started to examine it from all
angles. At first, it’s comparison to
other guns about
The
handle, a white bone colour was what had drawn his attention to it in the first
place. The fact that it had stood out so
sharply from all the other guns in the display case the day his father
accompanied him to buy it. Back then he
had been like a little boy in a candy shop, barely able to contain his
excitement and eagerness to learn. That
seemed such a long time ago from now.
“Come
on, this isn’t helping,” he hissed to himself, knowing that morning had already
come and soon his family would be asking what he wanted for breakfast. If the weather was fine enough, he would take
his gun a good few miles away. To a
place that few others visited. And there
he would practice shooting with his right hand.
For
now, he wanted to know how it felt. The metal of the gun in contrast to the handle. It was gleaming back at him. Joe had always taken very good care of his
guns. From that day in
the store. He oiled it and
cleaned it regularly, ensuring that each component would work effectively when
required.
Holding
it in his left hand, ready to take it in his right, his injured knuckles
reminded him that they were yet to heal.
Even adjusting the grip of his left hand, the tendons and muscles
protested into a dull, persistent ache.
No, he would not be able to use this hand to defend himself for a few
weeks.
Joe’s
concentration was broken as he heard a footstep on the floorboards in the
hallway. Listening closely for another
moment, and hearing two more coming closer to his bedroom door, he quickly took
evasive action and hid the weapon underneath the bedclothes.
His
haste only seemed to heighten any fumbles from his hands, and he almost cursed
out loud as he sat down awkwardly over the spot on the bed as the door was
opened. Joe greeted his father with a
smile, though he didn’t know if Ben had seen his last minute rush to sit down
on the bedclothes.
“Morning,
Pa,” Joe greeted his father, but the pitch was a little higher than he would
have liked, almost giving Ben reason to think that a deception was being
carried out.
“Good
Morning, Joseph,” Ben said in return as he surveyed the room. “Are you alright?” he asked, knowing it
sounded wrong when everything appeared to be perfectly normal.
“Fine,
Pa, just great. How
about you?” Joe replied, but again, his voice betraying the fact that he
wasn’t completely telling his father everything that was going on a few moments
ago in the room.
“I
will meet you down stairs for breakfast son,” Ben said, giving one more look
around the room and then closing the door.
He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he couldn’t help but
shake the feeling that Joe was being as evasive as on the cattle drive. He didn’t have the scared look that he had
worn around the campfire, but there were certain similarities in the way Joe
was holding his posture his answers were short and concise. Almost as if he was too afraid of speaking in
case he revealed the truth.
As
the lock on his bedroom door made closed, Joe let out the breath he had been
holding and sighed audibly in relief. He
felt like a snake in the grass, hiding the weapon from his father, but the
alternative of admitting his deception was not something he would have enjoyed
sharing.
Joe
put the gun away safely in his bedside table, knowing that there would be
little opportunity to sneak it back downstairs without his family
noticing. He would have to wait until
later and find an excuse to come back to the house when the coast was clear.
Joe
poured some clean water into a bowl on his dresser and tried to calm his nerves
by caring out his normal morning rituals.
He scrubbed at his face, and looked back at himself in the mirror, not
feeling very good about what he had just done. But the need to know if he could use his
right hand to use a gun or not was still eating away at him inside,
and the question still remained unanswered.
Dressing
in a fresh shirt and pulling on his boots, Joe now headed out of the bedroom,
ready to meet with his family over breakfast.
He promised himself that sometime that day he would find some solitude a
little further away from the Ponderosa to practice his shooting skills.
It
wasn’t until he began descending the stairs that he could hear voices in the
dining room. The first one was his
father, but the second one, listening for a few more moments carefully,
belonged to Sheriff Roy Coffee.
‘I
wonder what he is doing here this morning?’ Joe asked
himself.
Ben
smiled as he looked at his son walk across the room. Joe had been secretive and elusive upstairs a
few minutes ago, now he wore a pleasant, but still reserved look on his face.
“Good
Morning, Joe,” Ben greeted his son. “Have some breakfast will you?”
“Yes,
thank you, Pa,” Joe said as he quietly took his seat at the breakfast
table. He started to fork some of the
food from the table onto his own plate, briefly glancing at his father and the
lawman as he did so.
“What
brings you out here to the Ponderosa, Roy?” Joe asked noting an awkwardness
that hung in the air since he had arrived at the table.
“I
brought this here telegram out for your Pa, Joe,”
“Why us?” Joe asked after sipping at his coffee. Seemed strange that
“Well,
that’s the strange part about it, Joe,”
Ben
was waiting for an objection and indignation from Joe about his name being left
off the telegram, but to his outright surprise, Joe shrugged his shoulders a
little and then turned his attention back to his breakfast.
Ben
found himself asking his son about his disinterest, “You really don’t object to
staying here, Joseph? I have no idea as
to why your name was left off the telegram, but I am sure that it was only an
oversight from whoever sent it. I am
sure they would not truly object to you coming along should you wish to.”
“Pa,
to tell you honestly, I don’t feel like going anywhere right now. We just got back from the cattle drive and
there is more than enough work that I want to get done. Heading off to some town so that we can
interfere in someone else’s affairs, doesn’t really appeal to me,” Joe replied.
“Well,
I really wouldn’t call it interfering, Joe,” Ben said as he looked over at
“I
wouldn’t normally ask your brothers and Pa if I could find a way to do it
myself, Joe,”
“So
when will you be leaving and how long will you be gone? Has Adam and Hoss agreed to this yet?” Joe
asked. In the back of his mind he was
still trying to find the time to do his shooting practice. With his father and brothers talking of
leaving the Ponderosa to go to this other town, the perfect opportunity might
have presented itself to him.
“Your
brothers have not come down to breakfast yet, but I will speak to them when
they do. If they agree, then I don’t see
any point in delaying leaving today,” Ben answered. “There will need to be a few arrangements
made before we leave for when we are away.”
“Did
someone mention our names?” came the deep voice of
Adam as he descended the stairs followed closely by Hoss who was still donning
on his large hat. “You haven’t eaten all
the breakfast yet have you, Joe?”
“I
figured you would be looking for something a little more than just plain old
bacon and eggs and coffee, brother,” Joe commented playfully.
A
smile came to each of the faces of his father and brothers. That had almost sounded like the old Joe
Cartwright. The one that joked and
fooled around at the breakfast table most mornings, but sure brought a welcome
ray of sunshine to their lives.
“Don’t
go getting all soft on me now, Joe,” Adam retorted. “I am sure Hoss here will out eat both of us
and Pa too. Morning Sheriff Coffee.”
“Dadburnit Adam, that just ain’t fair. I can’t help it if I am a growing man,” Hoss
said as he sat down in his chair with a over-exaggerated
pouted face. Good Morning,
“Soon
there won’t be a cattle ranch big enough in
All
three brothers laughed heartily with each other that morning, and it was a
sight that Ben could be truly thankful for.
Joe had the best smile on his face he had seen in quite a while.
“Boys,”
Ben said, changing the tone of the morning to a more serious one as he planned
to explain the reason for
“Go
ahead,
“So,
you want us to go with you? Adam asked as he sat back in his own chair and
pondered whether or not he wanted to join his father. He looked over at Hoss and saw that his
larger brother had already made his decision and would go with Ben to help out
for as long as they were needed.
“It
sounds as if they really need our help son,” Ben said, not wanting to pressure
any of his sons. He noted like Adam, that
Joe kept his attention focused on the plate and not adding anything to the
discussion.
“Well,
I don’t have anything to do here that is pressing. I guess going down there to help is the right
thing to do. When do you plan to
leave?” Adam questioned.
“I
was just speaking to Joe about that when you came down to breakfast. There are a few arrangements to be made with
the hands and in town, but they can be done quickly enough. I was hoping that we might be able to make a
start later this morning. It might be a
long ride today, but we should make it before it gets dark,” Ben answered.
“Better
get a move on then, and go get ourselves packed,” Adam suggested, Hoss nodding
his head in agreement. “Just make sure
you don’t pack too much this time Joe.” he chastised in fun.
“Ha,
I travel light compared to the both of you, but you won’t need to be concerned
about me this trip, older brother, because I am staying right here,” Joe shot
back. “I decided that I have had enough
of your ornery company on the cattle drive.”
Adam
and Hoss looked at their brother and then their father with confusion. Both of them had naturally assumed that Joe
would be joining them.
“You
mean you are not going, short shanks?” Hoss asked.
“Nope,
but don’t think I will be doing all of your chores while you are away. They will all be still here, waiting for you
when you get back,” Joe replied.
“The
telegram only asked for the three of us, although I am certain that they
wouldn’t object to Joe coming along if he wished to,” Ben interjected,
explaining to his two eldest, the reason for their younger brother not coming
with them.
“Well,
Ben, I best be getting back to
“Happy
to be able to help out
Ben
saw
For
the next two hours, Adam, Hoss and Ben kept themselves relatively busy with
getting supplies and gear ready for the journey. Joe had chosen to take himself out to the
barn to keep out of everyone’s way. It wasn’t
until he found himself out in the barn alone that he had the same feeling begin
to creep over him that he had when he rode back into the yard yesterday.
Joe
tried to pass the time until his family would leave by doing some menial chores
in the barn to pass the time. He began
to curry Cochise, but found himself glancing over his shoulder every few
minutes as if he could feel someone’s presence nearby. He carried on with another few soft strokes,
when the feeling began to grow even more intense.
There
was no reason for it that he could openly describe or explain. It was like feeling someone’s breath on the back of your neck. The fine hairs standing up on end in
apprehension. His heart sensed something
nearby, but he couldn’t see it.
He
finally gave the brushing away as a bad joke, and proceeded to hide his fear by
throwing himself into some more manual work.
He grabbed a fork and began replacing some of the older straw in the
horse stalls with fresh stuff. The fear
didn’t disappear, it only seemed to make his body work
harder to mask it. By the time he was
finished, the back of his shirt was lathered with sweat and he felt incredibly
tired.
Joe
had just walked out to the water trough alongside the barn and began to splash
some cool water on his face and neck, when Ben came over to speak to him.
“Hard at it son?” Ben asked, a little bemused at why
Joe was driving himself to work so hard.
There were certainly chores to be done around the ranch,
that never changed. The fact that
he and his two eldest sons were going away needn’t make Joe think that he had
to take on the whole work load on his shoulders.
What
Ben had not expected was the reaction in Joe as he turned to face him. “Sorry son, I didn’t mean to startle you
like that,” Ben apologized. It was right
then that all of Ben’s fears about this son’s well-being were reignited.
The
wild look and the way Joe had spun around as though bitten, reminded him of how
his son had been back at the campfire on the cattle drive. And the way he seemed spooked when they had
been returning home and how he had ridden Cochise into the yard like the devil
himself was close behind.
“It’s
alright Pa, just d-didn’t hear you come up behind me is all,” Joe said, trying
to get his breathing back under control.
Inwardly he was berating himself harshly for acting like he had.
“I
was coming to tell you that we are about ready to leave,” Ben informed him,
still looking at Joe intently for any sign that he was keeping something
hidden.
“All
packed then?” Joe asked as he walked back to the homestead with his father.
“Hoss
is just about to see to saddling the horses, but yes, I think everything we
need is packed,” Ben answered. “You sure
you don’t want to change your mind and come with us? Its still not too
late. Won’t take long for you to get a
few clothes together and whatever else you need.”
“No
thanks, Pa,” Joe said, seeing that his father was only asking out of concern
about leaving him on his own. “I am
looking forward to just staying at home after the drive and doing what needs to
be done around here. I have a few other
things in mind to keep myself occupied.”
“Oh,
and what might those other ‘things’ be young man?” Ben asked with mock
sternness in his voice. Joe had matured
more over the last few years than he could have ever imagined and he had no
doubts that Joe would keep out of trouble while the rest of the family were
away. The ranch was in good hands and
they would be only gone a few days at the most.
“Just
a few odds and ends,” Joe replied, not wanting to give any information away
about his intentions on practicing shootings.
“I thought I might clean those rifles in the cabinet.”
“Well,
I don’t mind at all,” Ben said with a genuine smile. Cleaning and oiling the rifles was a job usually
assigned to Adam because Joe and Hoss openly objected so much. If Joe was offering to do it freely, then he
wasn’t about to tell his son that he couldn’t.
“Just make sure you are careful,” he added.
“I
will be Pa, everything around here will be just the same when you get back,”
Joe promised.
“You
look tired, son,” Ben commented, seeing Joe rub the back of his neck for the
third time since approaching him outside the barn.
“Yeah,
a bit,” Joe admitted ruefully. “But that
is probably after being on the cattle drive.”
“Yes,
I wasn’t particularly looking forward to spending my day in the saddle again so
soon,” Ben said. “Hop Sing should keep
you company while we are gone and he will fix you a good hot supper tonight.”
Adam
and Hoss had playfully told Joe to mind his manners and made sure he was in bed
at a reasonable hour. He was also
reminded that all friends he intended to invite to the ranch while they were
away were to be on their best behaviour as well.
“See
you in a few days, son,” Ben said from atop of Buck before they had all bit Joe
goodbye and had were slowly riding their mounts away from the Ponderosa.
Joe
stood for a few minutes and watched them ride away, preparing to go inside and
soak in a nice hot bath and enjoy his solitude for what remained of the day.
What
they didn’t expect at the time was they would be meeting again in a few days,
but the circumstances would be very different from what any of them
expected. The cards were about to be
placed down on the table, but the dealer had yet to reveal his plan and his
cast of people that would help him achieve his revenge on the Cartwright
family.
************************************************
In
the town that Ben and his two boys were headed towards, the only noise that
could be heard down the street, was coming from the
local saloon. Everyone that was
involved had been summoned there to hear what the next stage of the plan would
be.
A
large figure sat at a lone table in the corner of the room, watching the others
he had called here and taking in all of their traits and personalities. He had picked some of the best he could find
for this particular little operation.
But then he had been forced to make up the numbers with a few that he
was not so familiar with.
Striking
a match from the heel of his boot and lighting his cigar, he stood to his feet
and approached the bar, ready to address them all.
“Gentlemen,”
he said in a low voice.
Some
of ten men gathered at the bar had turned at the sound of his approaching
footsteps. A quick or sharp nudge with
an elbow to, caused the remaining few to turn and face their employer.
“Nice
little set up you got here, Boss,” one of the men commented, but quickly
retreated back from the group a little at the cold stare he received in return.
“You
all know the reason I have asked you here.
What you may or may not understand is the rules and conditions that I
have imposed,” he began making sure that he had everyone’s full attention.
“The
rules are simple; my rules. If you don’t
like my rules, then leave now.”
Not
one of them moved towards the door that would have allowed them out of the
game.
“Good,
glad we understand one another.”
“When
are they getting here?” came the question from another
man in the group.
“They
should be on their way here now. I
expect them to ride into town sometime later today. When they do, I want you all in your assigned
positions. I don’t want any of you going
off too early and spooking them before they make the livery stable.”
“When
do you expect this Joe fellow?” came another question.
A
smile formed on the man’s face at the mention of Joe’s name. “Not until I have everything prepared and
ready for him. Once we have the others
in custody, then I will make the arrangements to get him here. Ain’t nothing like a bit of
family honour to make them all fall.”
“I
want each of your names and where you are from so that we know each other
before the Cartwrights get here.”
The
men nodded and starting in no particular order, one by one they introduced
themselves.
First,
a man with fancy black boots and a black trim hat stood forward, “Name is
Johnny Pardon, but they call me “Ace” because I am the best damn card dealer
that ever was.”
A
couple of the other men had snickered openly at the man’s bold statement of
being the best card dealer.
“Where
you from ‘Ace’?” one of them asked with sarcasm dripping from his words.
Before
the man could laugh any further, Johnny had produced a stainless steel knife
from a hidden sheath in his boot. “From
After
the tension in the room had subsided a little, then a large black man spoke up
next.
“Walt
Hays, from
The
others in the group nodded their acknowledgement until the next man stepped
forward to introduce himself.
Next,
a man dressed in an army uniform and sash spoke, “Captain Samuel H.C.
Wetherspoon.” But he gave no indication
from where he was from or any other information about himself or his past.
An man of Indian descent now spoke his name to the group,
“People call me Eagle Claw” he said, not offering any further information
either. What he and the others failed to
notice was the scowl on the face of Captain Wetherspoon from behind. The look of loathing and
contempt of all Indian races clearly evident.
A
much smaller man now stepped forward to introduce himself, wearing a large
sombrero hat and clothing native to his people. “My name is Jose Martinez from Mexicana” he said in a heavily accented voice. “I am here to fight for the money you offer.”
Butch
Thomas smiled at the Mexican’s honesty.
At least he knew where they stood. Some of them were here to prove a
point or themselves, others, like Jose, were only motivated by greed and the
promise of a fortune at the end of it all.
Thomas
introduced the next two for them: “These two men are Dusty Slade and Peter
Williams. Both were inmates with me at
Yuma State Prison. They both have killed
in the past and will do so again, given that they are now wanted fugitives from
the law.”
The
next man to introduce himself to the group, was the
man Butch Thomas knew the least about.
When he had started hand picking this group of men, this stranger had
approached him, rather than be asked to fight against the Cartwrights.
“Wilson
Hughes is my name. Until a few days
ago, I was one of the ranch hands on the Ponderosa working for those no good,
high and mighty Cartwrights,” he said.
“That was until that young pup Joe Cartwright thought he was better than
me with a gun and forced me and two other fellows off the land.”
Out
of any of the men in the group, Hughes was the one with the most recent contact
with any of the Cartwrights. He had even
spoken to Joe Cartwright and seen the kid draw.
He would be most useful indeed, Butch said to himself.
The
only two other men left, were dressed exactly the same as each other, including
boots, hats and long leather coats. They
both chewed a cigar stub on the same side of their mouths and blew two
identical smoke rings into the air before they spoke.
“Names
are Henry Parker and Frank Fulton,” the first of them spoke. We don’t do nothing unless its
together. We rely on each other and only
each other. That way we live longer and
don’t have to trust anyone but ourselves.”
“Well
gentlemen, that was informative if nothing else,” Butch now remarked, trying to
figure out which of them would cause trouble and which ones would prove a good
enough ally to go against Joe Cartwright.
“Go
back to your drinks until I tell you its time to get ready.”
“Henry
and Frank, I want you two up on top of the General store roof, covering the
Cartwrights above with rifles.”
“Ace,
I want you in the alley way on this side of the street.”
“Captain,
you have the alley way on the other side of the street.”
“The
rest of you will be with me and given your positions as the time gets closer.
It’s almost time for the trap to be set and the game to begin.”
TO
BE CONTINUED …………………….
Okay,
there are the 10 new characters for you.
Don’t worry if you haven’t learned all of their names yet by reading
this chapter. They will be introducing
themselves again a little differently to Joe and the family in the next
chapter.
You
can probably guess a few things that are going to happen from this chapter,
other little things are still yet to be revealed. How the Cartwrights are captured and Joe
lured to the town are yet to be seen.
No Joe and his family have no idea that Butch is back yet, but they will
soon enough.
Joe
and Butch will make up the cast of 12 for Butch’s new game. You will learn a lot more about each of them
as the story continued. Be prepared for
a bumpy ride, as not all is as it seems.
There are those that may not be who they say they are.
Please
let me know you are reading and review.
JULES