God So Loved The World
By Rona Y.
“And
I don’t want anyone touching that black filly,” Joe said, pointing to the
glossy black mare in the corral along with the other mustangs. “I want to break
her myself. I think she might prove to need special attention.”
“Right,
Joe,” said Jeb, who was in charge of the horses under Joe. “She does look kinda
dainty, don’t she?”
“If
she’s as good as I think she might be, I think she’s just what Mr Jackson is looking
for for his wife,” Joe admitted. “She’s the right sort for breeding from, too,
so that’s an option if
“When
do you want to get started on the rest?” Jeb asked.
“This
afternoon,” Joe answered, looking at the sky to gauge the time. “I’m expected
back at the house for lunch, then I’ll be back. An hour and a half, say?” He
collected a nod from Jeb and glanced to where the hands were gathered. “Break
for an hour and a half boys,” he called. “Then we get begun.” He saw the men
start to move, heading to get their lunch, and went across to his horse and
mounted easily.
***************
The
family were just sitting down as Joe strode into the house. “Hi, Pa,” he said,
cheerfully and vanished into the kitchen for a quick wash up. He was soon at
the table and lunch began. It wasn’t customary for the Cartwrights to be home
at lunchtime, but this day Ben had news for them that he wanted to impart.
“I
received a telegram from Geoff Smith, owner of the Silver Dollar Mining Company
in
“All
right, Pa,” Joe agreed, easily. He no longer felt snubbed when he got orders
like this. He knew that his contribution to the ranch was as important as
anyone else’s, and the horses were his responsibility. He would have been loath
to leave the horses to move the herd or mark timber for cutting. “When do you
go?”
“Tomorrow
morning,” Ben said. “I’ll get an early start, and I should be there by
nightfall.”
“Any
idea what kind of deadline Smith wants on this?” Adam asked, and they drifted
into intense conversation about the timber. Joe didn’t listen very closely. He
was thinking about the horses he would start breaking that afternoon.
“Excuse
me,” he said, throwing down his napkin and pushing his chair back. “I have to
get going.”
“You
haven’t eaten much,” Ben said, doubtfully.
“I’m
fine,” Joe said, grinning. “Besides, its better not to bust broncs on a full
stomach! See you later.” He threw them all a jaunty wave and headed out of the
door, buckling on his gun belt as he went.
*************
It
was a punishing afternoon. Even the best riders – and Joe was the best –
got thrown occasionally. But that wasn’t the problem. As far as Joe was
concerned, it was part and parcel of the job. The thing that got him down was
the attitude of one of the hands.
Dennis Hardy was a bit older than Joe –
somewhere in his late thirties or early forties – and quite clearly resented
the young man who was his boss. Any order that Joe gave had to be repeated at
least twice and Joe had little enough patience for that kind of nonsense. He
was riding one horse when he saw Jeb talking to the man, but he was sure that
wouldn’t do any good. Joe had met this kind of feeling before, and he knew it
would likely end in only one way.
What
Joe hadn’t expected was that Hardy would blatantly disobey an order that had
come through the foreman. Joe took a long drink from his canteen and looked at
the chute to see if the hands were ready with the horse he’d just come off. And
there was Hardy, trying to force a bridle onto the black filly.
“Hardy!”
Joe shouted. He stalked across, anger in every line of his body. “What do you
think you’re doing?” he demanded. “I gave express orders that no one was to touch
this filly! What part of that didn’t you understand?”
Glowering
at Joe from under the brim of his hat, Hardy didn’t reply. He continued trying
to force the bit into the filly’s mouth and Joe was even more enraged. “Drop
that bridle, mister, and leave that filly alone!” he said, and the quiet tone
of his voice would have sent shivers down anyone else’s spine. But still Hardy
didn’t take the hint.
“You
ain’t the boss here, Cartwright,” he said. “Your pa is, and I don’t orders from
no one but him!”
“I
think you might find you’re wrong there,” Joe said. “I’m in charge of the
entire ranch for the next week, and if you don’t start doing what I say, you’ll
be out on your ear! Is that clear?” He jerked the bridle from the man’s hand
and pushed him away. The nervous filly snorted and danced over to the other
side of the corral. Joe let her go. He knew that she would need time to settle
down before he tried to work with her, and he was furious. Anger and horses
didn’t mix.
Turning
away, Joe didn’t see Hardy jumping at him. Jeb let out a cry of warning, but it
was too late. Joe went down under the other man’s weight, but he came up
fighting. They started to slug it out with Joe pinned under Hardy’s weight.
However, it wasn’t long before Joe managed to throw Hardy off, and both men got
to their feet.
There
was blood on both their faces, but neither seemed aware of it. They wrestled
back and forth across the corral, and Jeb decided it would be safer for both
the fighters and the horses if he got the mustangs out of the corral. Quickly,
he organised the watching hands into shepherding the horses into the adjoining
corral. Turning his attention back to the fight, Jeb saw that Joe had almost
got Hardy where he wanted. The older man had fallen, but Jeb let out a cry as
he saw Hardy grab the forgotten bridle and slash Joe across the face with it.
Joe cried out, and his hands automatically flew to his face.
There
was no longer a question of letting Joe fight this to a conclusion in Jeb’s
mind. He gestured to the hands and they spilled into the corral. But despite
the pain from his face, Joe had no intention of letting Hardy win. He dived at
the other man, who had relaxed slightly, assuming he’d won.
Joe’s
uppercut caught Hardy right on the point of the chin, and all but lifted him
off his feet. Hardy went down, too dazed to try and fight back. By then, Jeb
and the hands had reached them and Jeb left Hardy to the others while he looked
at Joe with concern.
His
young boss peered back at him through the blood running into his eyes. Joe’s
left eyelid was badly cut and swelling rapidly. There was a long cut down his
left cheek, and a nasty bruise forming where the bit had hit him near the
mouth. Joe managed a grin. “I got him,” he slurred, for his lips were split and
swollen.
“You
need to get home, Joe, and get your face seen to,” Jeb said, letting go of him.
“Yeah
yeah,” Joe replied, indifferently. He wiped some blood out of his eyes, and
walked across to Hardy. “You got a choice,” he said. “You work for me, and do what
I say, or you can get your wages and get out. The choice is yours.”
“Damn
your wages and damn you!” Hardy shouted, roughly. He had never been humiliated
like that before. “You’ll be sorry, Joe Cartwright!”
“Get
out,” Joe said, quietly, and nodded to the men to let him go. Picking up his
hat, Hardy walked stiffly out of the corral and off towards the bunkhouse. Joe
watched him go, then looked round at the men. “See you in the morning,” he
said, and they reacted with relief, heading off towards their supper, chatting
animatedly about the fight they had just witnessed.
“Can
you get home alone?” Jeb asked, seeing that Joe was now feeling the effects of
the fight.
“I’m
fine,” Joe assured him. “See you tomorrow.” He patted Jeb on the shoulder and
headed back to his horse. Joe knew that he would be sore the next day, but he
didn’t worry about that. He was more than sore enough now without borrowing
trouble.
*****************
At
home, Joe lingered as long as he could in the barn, reluctant to face the reaction
he knew he would get when he walked in. But finally, he couldn’t put it off any
longer and he trekked reluctantly across the yard.
The
family were already in, as Joe knew, since their horses were all in the
barn. He opened the door to the house and
slowly took off his hat, jacket and gun belt, rolling the latter neatly before
laying it on the credenza. He hesitated before turning to face the family, who
were all sitting in front of the fire.
It
was Adam who looked at him first. “Joe, what happened?” he said, rising from
his seat in the blue velvet chair.
Glancing
over, Ben was stunned by the blood and bruising on Joe’s face. He was on his
feet, hurrying to Joe’s side before he made the decision to do so. Hoss was at
his heels. They managed a dead heat, Joe noted, wryly. “I had a small problem
with one of the hands. Its sorted now.”
“A
small problem?” Ben repeated. “Joe, your eye…”
“I
didn’t duck fast enough,” Joe said. “He was wielding a bridle.”
Getting
a story out of Joe was like pulling teeth, Ben thought, as he guided his
youngest over to the settee, so he could take a closer look. Joe’s left eye was
completely shut, and the lid badly cut. His cheek had a huge welt on it, and
the bruise by his mouth was quite clearly made by a bit. All in all, it looked
very painful.
Bending
in for a closer look, Hoss’ face was full of sympathy. However, he wasn’t above
pulling his brother’s leg over this accident. “Good thing it weren’t Buck’s
bridle,” he said. “All them medallions would’ve spoiled yer beauty forever,
Shortshanks.”
“Hoss!”
Ben protested, and Joe threw Hoss a baleful look from his one open eye. “Fetch
me some water and the liniment,” he ordered curtly, and Hoss, not quite sure
why his quip had backfired, obediently went off.
The
worst thing about a fight, Joe reflected, was the aftermath. Not only did you
end up stiff and sore, but you had to put up with stinging liniment and
fussing! For the liniment did indeed sting, and Ben fussed endlessly, it seemed
to Joe. At that point, he hadn’t seen his face, and so didn’t realised the
extent of the damage. He tried to stop Ben from bandaging his eye, which of
course involved bandaging round his head, too, but Ben was not to be thwarted!
Gradually,
the story came out. Hardy hadn’t worked for the family for long, but he already
had a reputation for being surly. None of the others had had any problems with
him, but they were all aware that problems often arose with Joe because of his
relative youth. For all that Joe was in his twenties, he could almost pass for
a teenager. It didn’t usually take long for hands to discover that Joe never
asked anyone to do something he wouldn’t do himself, a credo that they had all
learned from Ben, and then problems disappeared. But occasionally, they came across
someone who stubbornly refused to work for Joe. The outcome was almost
inevitable; Joe fought whoever it was and the man either knuckled under or
quit.
Looking
at Joe’s face as they ate their supper, Ben wondered if he ought to stay at
home, but when he hesitantly suggest this, Joe all but jumped on him. “Oh, Pa,
you can’t do that!” Joe said. “You have to meet Mr Smith, and I’m quite capable
of taking care of the ranch. I’m all right, honest. I can manage. Don’t you
trust me?”
“Of
course I trust you, son,” Ben said. “I just wondered if you felt all right. I’d
hate to go away and leave you in charge if you aren’t all right.”
“Honestly,
I’m fine,” Joe assured him in an exasperated tone. “And if something did come
up, Adam and Hoss aren’t gonna be that far away.”
“You
could go and mark trees, and I’ll break the horses,” Adam joked, and Joe glared
at him.
“You
stick to your job, big brother, and I’ll stick to mine!” he retorted. “I’m
running the ranch when Pa’s away and that’s final!”
“Yes
sir!” Adam responded and saluted smartly.
They
all had to laugh, Joe included.
********************
Early
next morning, the family dispersed to their various tasks. Ben rode off to
Alone
in the yard for a few moments after the others had gone, Joe felt a sudden pang
of loneliness. Of course, he wasn’t really alone. There were the hands who were
assisting with the breaking, and back at the house was Hop Sing, who, in all
truthfulness, probably ran the Ponderosa! But the centre of the Ponderosa had
always been his family, and Joe was never entirely comfortable when they were
absent.
Shaking
off the feeling, Joe mounted Cochise and went off down to the breaking corral.
He had plenty of work to keep him busy over the next few days, and then the
family would be back, and they would each have plenty to tell the others. It
was only as Joe dismounted, prepared to start work, that he realised that this
coming Sunday was Easter. He paused for a moment, then shrugged. He would just
have to make up his mind to be alone that Sunday.
***************
The
days were busy, but the evenings stretched out ahead of Joe. He was recovering
quickly from his beating, and although his left eye would take a little longer
to heal than the rest of his face, it was no longer quite as sore. He read, but
he missed the companionship of his family. He had a lot of time to think, and
main thing to occupy his thoughts was the sudden harassment he was suffering.
Several times, Joe had been pounded by a hail of stones thrown hard. Despite
chasing after the perpetrator, Joe hadn’t caught him. He had a shrewd idea of
who was at the back of it though– Hardy!
Mentioning
it casually to Jeb, Joe discovered that Jeb, too had suffered. He’d put the
loosened cinch down to a practical joke the first time, but when his cinch had
proven to be consistently loose, he began to suspect that something was up.
“D’you reckon it’s Hardy?” he asked.
“Who
else?” Joe asked. “Keep a close eye on things, Jeb. I’d hate to see anything
happen to you.”
“You
be careful, too, Joe,” Jeb said. “You’re ridin’ back and forth to the house all
the time alone.”
“I
am careful,” Joe responded. He looked at the horses in the corral. They were
all broken, apart from the black filly. Of course, there was still work to do
on the horses, getting them a bit more than just green broke, but the majority
of the hard work was behind them. “I’m gonna start on that filly tomorrow,
Jeb,” he said, changing the subject. “I think she’s ready.”
“She’s
sure enough gentled down,” Jeb agreed, joining Joe as he went over to pet the
filly. “Reckon there’s some warm blood in her, Joe?”
“Wouldn’t
surprise me,” Joe said. “She’s a might better bred than the rest of this bunch.
Wonder where the stallion picked her up from?” Joe stroked his hand down the
filly’s glossy neck, and she turned her head to nuzzle his hand.
With
a final pat, Joe and Jeb turned away from the corral. “I’ll send a wire to the
army to let them know we’ll be ready for them the week after next,” Joe said.
“That sound about right to you?”
“No
problem,” Jeb responded.
There
was a sudden shot, and both men ducked. Another shot rang out, and since they
were both unarmed, Joe and Jeb raced for the dubious shelter of a wagon. “Where
is he?” Joe breathed, looking all round. He didn’t spot the gunman, but what he
saw froze the blood in his veins. Slowly standing, heedless of his own safety,
Joe saw the black filly lying on the ground, a bullet hole in her neck.
****************
It
was late when Joe got back to the house that night. He was still angry, and
sorrow for the loss of a promising horse was laid over it. He silently took
Cochise into the barn, and was surprised to see Sport standing in his stall. He
hadn’t expected Adam back so soon.
Feeling
unexpectedly cheered by this, Joe settled his own mount for the night and headed
eagerly towards the house to tell Adam all the news. He frowned as he thought
of the dead filly once more, and vowed that if he ever got his hands on Hardy,
the cowboy would pay for her death!
So
it came as a huge shock when he opened the door, and saw Adam lying unconscious
on the floor, with his hands bound behind his back. Joe’s eyes opened wide.
“Adam!” he exclaimed, and rushed over to kneel by his brother.
The
ominous sound of a gun being cocked froze Joe to the spot, his hands reaching to
untie the ropes binding his brother’s hands. “Don’t move, Cartwright,” said
Hardy’s voice.
“What
do you want, Hardy?” Joe asked, as the man removed his gun from his holster.
“What have you done to my brother?”
“Just
hit him on the head,” Hardy replied. “I wasn’t expectin’ him to be here, but
he’s proved right useful. Get the right bait, you can catch anythin’.” Hardy
laughed.
“What
do you want?” Joe repeated. He still knelt on the floor, his hands raised. He
wondered what his chances were of catching Hardy off guard, but decided they
were small when the gun came to rest on the back of his neck.
“I
want to humiliate you the same way you did me,” Hardy snarled. “You think
you’re such a big man don’t you? The boss, huh? You’ll learn.”
Kneeling
there, Joe didn’t doubt for a single minute that Hardy meant every word.
**************
Jolting
along in the back of the wagon, Joe glanced once more at Adam. His brother was
tied up on the other side of the vehicle, and looked to have no more chance of
breaking free than Joe himself had. Hardy had forced Joe to hitch up the wagon,
and then had tied up the young man before throwing him into the wagon and tying
him to the wagon itself. Joe struggled fruitlessly against the restraint while
Hardy went back into the house. To Joe’s horror, Hardy came back with Adam, and
tied the older son to the side, too.
“Are
you all right, Adam?” Joe asked. He knew his talking irritated Hardy, but he
had to know if Adam was all right. His brother had seemed dazed for quite some
time before he finally acknowledged Joe’s questions.
“I’m
okay,” Adam repeated. His head thumped appallingly, and he felt a bit sick, but
he was basically all right. He was too tired to carry on a conversation, though
and he lapsed into silence once more.
“Stop
your talkin’, Cartwright,” Hardy called back.
It
was on the tip of Joe’s tongue to retort that Hardy couldn’t make him be quiet,
but he knew that in fact he could. So he bit his tongue and said nothing. Once
more, he peered into the darkness around him and wondered where they were
headed. They had been travelling for hours, and by Joe’s reckoning it must be
almost
The
wagon stopped, and Joe was grateful that the jolting was over. Adam raised his
head and looked around. Nearby, they could hear the slap of water on land, and
Joe guessed they were near
“Now
we walk,” Hardy said, and gave Joe a push that almost floored him. The shove he
gave Adam was scarcely less violent and Joe seethed at the treatment his
brother was being forced to endure. But he was afraid to say too much in case
Hardy took his anger and resentment out on Adam. He wouldn’t put anything past
this madman.
They
walked for a long time, stumbling in the uncertain light. Adam was practically
out on his feet when they reached a cave. It seemed this was it, and Hardy
shoved them unceremoniously inside. Adam collapsed to the damp stone floor,
barely conscious. Joe moved to go to his side, but Hardy stopped him. “Get over
there, Cartwright!” He gave Joe another push to emphasise his control of the
situation, and Joe had no choice but to go where he was told.
He
was pushed down and his feet were tightly bound. He glared at Hardy as Adam was
subjected to the same treatment, but Hardy was oblivious. He flicked a
contemptuous glance at Joe. “Now you’re gonna work for me,” he said. “See how
you like being bossed about, Cartwright.”
“You’re
crazy!” Joe stated, defiantly. “Why did you kill that horse?”
This
was the first Adam had heard of this, and he raised his head and tried to focus
on what Joe was saying. Which horse had been killed? Not Cochise, surely? The
world swam and he blinked to clear his vision. He focused on Joe, who was
clearly angry, despite his cramped position. Adam wanted to say something, warn
Joe not to provoke this madman, but he couldn’t find his voice.
“That
horse was gonna be special to you, wasn’t it?” Hardy snarled. “An’ you showed
me up over it. So what else did you expect me to do? Let you sell it and get
praise for it? You must be stupider than you look, boy.”
“You’re
sick!” Joe said, disgustedly. Only too late did he see the blow coming and
hadn’t time to duck away from it. His head rocked to the side, and he felt
blood on his lips. Still defiant, he glared at Hardy. Outside, he could see the
sky lightening as dawn approached.
“You
ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Hardy said as he went deeper into the cave.
****************
Shortly
after the sun rose, Hardy came for Joe. He untied his feet and yanked him
upright. “No!” Adam protested weakly. “Leave him alone!”
“Shut
up!” Hardy said, aiming a kick at Adam.
Seeing
red, Joe threw his weight at Hardy and deflected the kick enough that Adam
wasn’t touched, but Hardy was furious. Joe seemed to show him up all the time.
Once, long ago, Hardy had had a younger brother, who was better looking, and
more charming, and who got an awful lot of attention. He had been consumed by
jealousy, and had engineered an accident for the child when he was barely ten.
His brother had died, and nobody suspected that Hardy had been at the back of
it. Being made to work with Joe had just reminded him of his younger brother
and Hardy had been at breaking point when he and Joe had had the fight.
Dragging
Joe to his feet, Hardy began to beat Joe up. He stopped when Joe collapsed,
bleeding, to his knees, dragged the young man to his feet again and shoved him
outside. He glanced at Adam on the way past. “I’d have thought you’d be glad to
be rid of him,” he said, cryptically.
Not
understanding the remark, Adam frowned. “If you harm him, I’m not going to rest
until you’re hunted down, Hardy,” he vowed.
“Harm?
I’m not gonna harm him, Cartwright,” Hardy sneered. “I’m gonna kill him.”
As
Hardy left the cave, Adam made a gargantuan effort to stop him, but his attempt
to get to his feet failed, and he crashed to the stone floor. For a minute,
Adam lay there, panting, his active imagination following Joe and their captor
away from the cave and up onto the hillside above. He was almost sobbing.
But
Adam wasn’t the type to let his imagination run away with him. He was firmly grounded
in reality, and his reality was to get free from his bonds and find a way to
rescue Joe. He had no idea when Ben and Hoss would return home, but he knew
that Hop Sing, their cook, would have come back from wherever it was he had
been and notify the sheriff that they were missing. Or at least, that was what
Adam hoped. But he had no idea of Hop Sing had been in the house before he
himself had gone in or not. He could only hope.
So
Adam struggled against the ropes that bound him. He fought them all day, but
when evening came, he was exhausted and still a captive. And Hardy returned
with the sunset – alone.
*****************
Hardy
forced Joe up the hill, with frequent vicious shoves. Joe fought to keep his
footing in the uncertain light. He didn’t know what Hardy wanted of him, but as
long as it kept Adam safe, he didn’t care. Adam had clearly taken a severe blow
to the head and Joe was deeply concerned about is brother’s welfare. He would
have done or said anything to keep Adam safe.
But
he hadn’t quite envisaged someone like Hardy. Hardy was unlike anyone Joe had
ever met. He wasn’t quite sane, Joe thought. He wondered what was in store for
him. What did Hardy have in mind? What did he really think?
What
Hardy really thought was that Adam would be quite glad to be rid of Joe, the
way he had been quite glad to be rid of his charming little brother. It never
occurred to the man that not everyone felt the same way he did.
Reaching
a large oak tree about a mile away from the cave, Hardy told Joe to stop. It
was none too soon as far as the youngest Cartwright was concerned. Stumbling
along with his hands tied tightly behind his back, after the beating he had
taken, had been quite a chore. But Joe had been determined not to break down in
front of Hardy. It was sheer stubbornness that had kept him on his feet, but he
had managed to keep going. Now, he fell gratefully to his knees and waited to
see what Hardy had in store.
It
didn’t seem terribly onerous at first. Hardy forced Joe to sit down – not a
hardship at that point - and bound his feet tightly together again. He drew his
gun, and pointed it at Joe’s forehead. “Ready to meet your Maker, Cartwright?”
he asked.
Swallowing
with difficulty, Joe met his gaze. “I don’t have anything on my conscience,” he
replied. “Can you say the same?”
“A
conscience is a fairy tale,” Hardy said. “Someone made it up.”
“Its
real,” Joe answered, having suffered through several crises when he was
younger. He had quickly learned that a guilty conscience could make you as
physically sick as an illness. It wasn’t something he took lightly anymore, if
he ever had. He wondered if there was something in Hardy’s life that pricked
his conscience and made him act this way.
“Who
made you better than me?” Hardy asked. The question was serious.
Looking
at him, Joe said nothing. He didn’t think he was better than Hardy. He worked
just as hard, and got paid almost the same amount. He didn’t know where this
resentment had come from. He didn’t try and put on airs and graces when working
with the men – just the opposite in fact. He tried to show them he wasn’t
afraid of hard work when it counted, and expected no less from his cowboys. But
there was almost always one in the bunch; one who thought he should be handed
an easy job with good wages on a plate, and resented Joe and/or his brothers
for having this mythical job.
“I’m
not better than you,” Joe responded, having had a lot of time to contemplate
this sort of thing as Holy Week had gone on. Normally, Joe had a moderate
respect for religion, but didn’t think about it deeply. But something about
being alone on this most special week had moved him to think about his own good
fortune, and he wasn’t slow to thank the Almighty for it. “I’ve just had
different luck.”
“You
youngsters always get everything handed to you,” Hardy said, almost absently.
“You don’t have to work for anything.”
“That’s
not true!” Joe protested, although he’d intended to hold onto his temper. It was
always easier said than done, and he seldom succeeded. “I worked to gain
control of the horses. If I hadn’t been capable, Pa wouldn’t have turned it
over to me!”
“Sure,”
Hardy said, scornfully. “ Like your rich papa wouldn’t have given you a bit of
the ranch to play with. Those brothers of yours must be sick fed up of wiping
your snotty nose for you!”
But
that was one area where Joe was no longer vulnerable. He had long ago learned
that his father and brothers wouldn’t have let him be in charge of Hop Sing’s
kitchen garden if he wasn’t up to it. However, Joe still hadn’t learned to
think before he acted or spoke. “You
must have led a sad life,” Joe said.
With
a strangled cry, Hardy flew at Joe once more. The youth ducked and rolled away,
trying to avoid the brutal punishment that Hardy intended him to receive. He
was only partially successful. Within a few moments, Hardy had him pinned to
the ground, and was looming over him with evil intent clearly in mind. “Little
kids don’t deserve to live!” he muttered almost under his breath. “You ain’t as
good as me!”
Trying
to protect his vitals, Joe was soon wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. The world
was swirling in large circles when Hardy finally straightened. The older man
blew on his skinned knuckles and looked down on the barely conscious Joe with
satisfaction. “I’ll rid your family of you, and they’ll be happy,” he said, and
his conviction rang in his voice. He truly believed that getting rid of the
youngest Cartwright would make the rest of them happy, although he hadn’t
noticed any such thing in his own family when he’d murdered his brother.
Moving
quickly, while Joe was still dazed, Hardy untied the ropes binding his hands.
He stripped off Joe’s jacket and shirt and changed Joe’s position so that he was
standing awkwardly on his bound feet, re-tying Joe’s hands so that they were
stretched above him, attached to the branches of the tree. He laughed at the
pain etched on Joe’s face. “Don’t go away, Cartwright,” he sneered. “I’m just
goin’ to go an’ deal with your brother.” He paused. “Unless you don’t want me
too.”
There
was no hesitation in Joe’s soul. He ached from every place in his body, and he
knew that he would suffer more. But he didn’t count the cost or hesitate for a
single second, for he loved his brother more than life itself. He knew how
often Adam had put his own life on the line for Joe’s and he was more than
willing to do the same. “Do what you want to me, just leave Adam alone.”
“Really?”
Hardy said.
“Really,
just leave Adam alone!” Joe had no idea what Hardy intended to do to him, but
he knew it would be bad. He was stretched almost on tiptoe, but couldn’t reach
the branches above to help himself balance.
“Tell
you what,” Hardy said, leaning in close to Joe. “You take what I give you an’
I’ll let your brother go free.”
Looking
at the crazy eyes inches from his own, Joe knew he had no way to know if Hardy
meant this, or if it was just another way to torment him. But he couldn’t
refuse, for Adam’s life might depend on him. “All right,” he said, shakily.
Laughing,
Hardy turned on his heel and walked a short distance away. Joe watched him go,
his heart in his mouth. What if he were lying about Adam? Opening his mouth to
shout, he saw Hardy stoop and reach under a large bush. What he drew out caused
Joe to draw in his breath. He’d never seen one before, but he knew what it was
– a cat o’ nine tails.
*****************
The
beating went on and on, and Joe could barely breathe. He longed to pass out,
but every time he looked like he was fading, Hardy would stop, and throw water
into his face, bringing him back to full, hellish wakefulness. Joe choked on
the water, too tired and sore to even shake his head to get rid of the sopping
hair that dangled over his face.
Finally,
after a time, Joe realised that the beating had stopped. His back was aflame
and his arms ached mercilessly. He could barely support his own weight, and his
legs trembled from the effort. Blinking, Joe looked to see if his tormentor was
still nearby. To his immense disappointment, he was. He was drawing something
from a canvas bag, and Joe gaze at the object without recognising it.
“Ever
seen one of these, Cartwright?” Hardy asked, displaying the - thing – to his pitiful prisoner. He didn’t
wait for a response. “Its used in asylums to force feed the lunatics. It keeps
their mouth open, and’stops them talkin’. What a
useful doo-dad, don’t yah think?”
Adrenalin
began to pump through Joe’s system and he fought against his bonds once more.
It didn’t matter. Hardy was exhilarated by Joe’s struggles, and he showed no
mercy in forcing the awful contraption onto Joe’s head.
There
were straps, which went round his head, and two flat metal pieces went into his
mouth. Joe resisted, and his mouth was cut and bleeding when the pieces of
metal were finally slipped between his teeth. In truth, Joe was fortunate that
none of his teeth were broken as the metal was shoved home.
As
Hardy buckled the straps behind Joe’s head, he thought it didn’t seem quite as
horrific as he’d first thought. Although the taste of the metal in his mouth
was awful and his tongue was firmly pressed against the bottom of his mouth, at
least his mouth was closed.
But
then Hardy began to crank a cog on the device, and Joe’s mouth was forced open.
The pain was appalling as the metal cut into the tender corners of his mouth.
Joe could feel the blood trickling into his mouth and he discovered that it was
almost impossible to swallow.
“Lots
of lunatics choke to death wearing one of these,” Hardy whispered. “I might
come back an’ feed you later. Would you manage to eat without choking to death,
I wonder?” He laughed at the look of panic in Joe’s eyes. “Or I could just go
an’ kill your brother now.” He saw quite clearly that Joe was willing to endure
anything for Adam’s life, even this. “Well, I have some more entertainment in
mind. You just wait there.” He slapped Joe on the back, and the pain, which had
temporarily been subjugated by the new torture, re-awoke with a vengeance.
“Oh,
God, help me,” Joe prayed, silently. It occurred to him that this was Good
Friday, the day that Christ had hung and suffered on the cross, and Joe
wondered if He had ever regretted his decision to save others. Joe’s jaws ached
from their unnatural position. What else did Hardy have in mind?
Fortunately,
what he had in mind didn’t involve any more physical abuse, but was unpleasant
enough. He returned with a sackful of ants and bees and emptied it all over
Joe. Then he threw more water over him, and the enraged insects stung Joe in
several places. The ants walking all over his skin made Joe itch like mad, and
he could feel them on his abused back. Some even went into his mouth, and he
retched uncontrollably. Hardy found the whole thing hysterical.
As
the afternoon waned, he seemed to grow bored. It grew colder, and he smiled to
himself. Joe hung there, his hands totally numb, barely able to hold himself on
his feet. Hardy was highly entertained by the whole thing. Only one more thing
was left to do. Joe had to die.
Crossing
to his captive, Hardy unbuckled Joe’s belt and yanked his pants and drawers
down. Joe began to struggle at once, and received a terrible blow to the
stomach to quieten him. Quickly, Hardy untied his feet, stripped off Joe’s
boots, socks, pants and drawers and stood back to look. Joe was totally naked,
and Hardy grinned. He re-tied Joe’s feet, and then went away. Shortly after, he
returned with more water and systematically soaked Joe from head to foot.
Goosebumps
rose on the young man’s abused flesh as he stood there shivering in the icy
wind that had risen from the lake. The sun was heading down fast, and Joe could
see from the clearness of the sky that there would be a frost that night. He
knew he wouldn’t survive it.
“You’ve
been fun, Cartwright,” Hardy said. “I won’t bother feedin’
you. Why should I feed a dead man? I’ll take your brother home, don’t you
worry. Aren’t you even going to say goodbye?” He laughed as Joe raised dull,
pain-filled eyes to him. He lifted his cat o’ nine tails again and gave Joe a
couple of strokes across his stomach. For a moment, he looked at the youth and
then he simply walked away.
***************
“Where’s
Joe?” Adam demanded. He had struggled all day against his restraints, and had
failed to get free. “What have you done with him?”
“I’ve
got rid of him for you,” Hardy said, sounding surprised. “He agreed to give up
his life for you. Good of him, weren’t it? Bet it’s a relief to know that he
won’t be around no more. He were entertaining. I got a lot o’ fun outa him.”
He
dropped a bundle in one corner, and Adam recognised Joe’s blood-splattered
clothes. He could feel the world greying around him, and was glad to let go. He
had failed Joe. He didn’t know if he could live with that knowledge. He was
dimly aware that Hardy was moving him around, dragging him painfully across the
stone floor of the cave, but he was too far gone to resist. When he did come to
again, he found himself out of the cave.
Realising
that his captive was back among the land of the living again, Hardy untied
Adam’s feet, yanked him upright and forced him to walk. Eventually, they
reached the wagon, which Hardy had abandoned the previous night. “Get in,”
Hardy said, giving Adam an appalling shove.
The
older Cartwright was quite glad to be sitting down, although he was once more
tightly bound to the side of the wagon. His head still throbbed miserably, and
the ache in his heart was little less. Adam could think only of Joe, picturing
his broken body lying alone on the hillside somewhere.
It
was still dark when the wagon rumbled into the yard of the Ponderosa. Hardy
jumped down from the seat and disappeared at once. Adam yelled angrily after
him, and fought against the ropes once more, but they still defied his efforts.
He had no idea how he would get out of this mess, but as he slumped hopelessly
down, there was a sound behind him, and a voice spoke sharply. “Who’s there?”
“Pa?”
Adam said. “Pa?” He could hear footsteps coming nearer, and twisted, trying to
see.
“Adam!”
Ben exclaimed, horrified. “Are you all right?” He was immediately slicing
through the ropes binding his son. “Where’s Joe?”
“Joe’s
dead,” Adam said, and was overcome by remorse once more. He could barely bring
himself to gasp out the story, and see the tears standing in his father’s white,
pinched face. “Its my fault,” he said.
“Hush,”
Ben said, supporting Adam into the house. He could see the dried blood on
Adam’s head, and the blood on his wrists where he’d been tied. Ben’s heart was
swelling, and he thought he might die from the grief coursing through his body
for his youngest son. “Its not your fault, Adam.”
It
wasn’t long before Ben had the household roused. Adam found himself bathed,
changed and tucked securely into bed, while Ben brought him up to date with
what had happened on the ranch. Hop Sing had returned on Good Friday morning
from
“Hoss
should be back by daylight,” Ben said. “We’ll track the wagon back and find
Joe, don’t worry. Perhaps he’s all right.”
“Hardy
said he’d killed him,” Adam said. His exhaustion was beginning to get the
better of him, and his eyes were closing.
“Sleep,”
Ben soothed him, and when Adam was resting, left the room. He sat in front of
the fire, waiting for dawn to break. After the initial moment of heart-rending
grief, Ben now wondered if Joe was dead. Hardy might have said so, but there
was no body – yet, he had to add. Perhaps Joe had somehow survived.
*****************
Dawn
broke, and although Hoss had been riding for most of the night, he made no
complaint at riding off with Ben to hunt for Joe. Adam had roused briefly and
wanted to go with them, but he wasn’t fit enough, and to his intense disgust,
he’d been left at home. However, he realised that he wouldn’t have been able to
keep up, as he hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours and was as weak as a kitten.
Still, it was galling to be left behind.
Ben
and Hoss tracked steadily for most of the morning before they finally found the
cave Adam had described to them. They found Joe’s jacket, shirt and boots, but
his pants were gone. Collecting these items, they pushed on up the hill,
following some faint tracks Hoss had found.
Beneath
an oak tree, they found a confusion of mixed tracks, showing someone had come
and gone a lot. There was a bloodstained cat o’ nine tails lying abandoned on
the ground, and an odd looking contraption of metal and leather. They both
looked at it blankly. There was rope and a broken branch, but no sign of Joe.
“You
don’t think he come back an’ took Joe somewheres else, do ya, Pa?” Hoss asked.
He was furious that someone had mistreated his brothers.
“I
don’t know, son,” Ben answered, genuinely perplexed. “Let’s see if we can find
any tracks.” They separated and began looking.
“Nothin’,”
Hoss said, in disgust. “You find anythin’, Pa?”
“No,”
Ben replied, discouraged. They had hunted around for well over an hour. He
glanced around. “It’s going to be dark shortly,” he said. “There’s nothing more
we can do here. Let’s go home and see if there’s been any word from
“I
sure hate to leave,” Hoss said.
“So
do I,” Ben admitted. “But we don’t really have any choice. Joe isn’t here.” He
led the way back down the hill.
*****************
After
Hardy had gone, Joe hung there, shivering in the cold wind, his body rebelling
against even that slight movement. His jaws ached from being stretch so widely.
He wished he could die, just to get it over with and spare himself any more
misery.
And
then a thought occurred to him, a thought so monstrous that his eyes opened
again and he stared blindly into the distance. What if Hardy was going back to
kill Adam regardless? What if he did to Adam the things he’d done to Joe? Joe
was so over wrought by this thought that he didn’t notice the whip lying at his
feet.
But
it gave him a reason to renew his efforts to escape and he fought his bonds,
twisting and turning against them, heedless of the cost in pain from his back.
He panted desperately, almost choking on his own saliva, for he could hardly
swallow. He broke into a sweat, which the brisk wind chilled on his body. He
didn’t notice any of these things. He was intent on getting free to rescue
Adam.
It
had been dark for some time when the branch above him broke. Joe had long ago
given up expecting to get free. His movements had slowed to a standstill, and
he sagged in his bonds. It was this sudden introduction of his weight that did
the job for him. The branch snapped and he tumbled headlong to the cold ground.
Bruised,
winded, Joe lay still, not believing his luck. As the blood began to return to
his arms, they throbbed painfully. Gradually, Joe was able to sit up. For a
time, he just sat there, but he knew he had to get free. Shuffling over the
ground, he came to a boulder with a jagged edge, and began to draw the rope on
his wrists over and over it.
It
was incredibly painful and difficult, for Joe’s arms were leaden and he had
little feeling in them. But he persevered, resting frequently, until finally the
strands parted and his hands were free. Gazing at them in disbelief, Joe
realised how swollen his fingers were. Would he be able to unfasten the straps
holding the hated contraption round his head? After a couple of minutes rubbing
his hands together, he began to fumble with the straps. It took several
attempts, but finally the buckles yielded and the thing came loose. Gently, Joe
drew the metal out of his aching mouth, gratefully closed his jaws and
swallowed.
For
a while, that was all Joe was able to do. He leaned against the rock and
drifted in a sort of stupor. However, he roused as a particularly cold gust of
wind hit him, and began the awkward task of freeing his feet. It must have
taken him another hour to get them free, and by then, Joe was shivering
uncontrollably.
Resolutely,
he got to his feet and started down the track to the cave. Part of the way
there, he came across his pants, and gratefully slid them on. After a resting,
Joe set out again, aiming for the cave, but he was exhausted and his sense of
direction had got turned around, and Joe wandered for quite some time before
realising that there was no way he was going to find the cave.
But
his sub-conscious must have been helping him out, for he was heading towards
home. Joe knew it would be a long walk, and he was barefoot, but he set off.
***************
As
dawn crept into the master bedroom at the Ponderosa, it found Ben Cartwright
still awake. All the previous day, he had searched for Joe, and finally had
been forced to stop by the onset of night. He had made Hoss and Adam go to bed,
and had lain down himself, but he had never closed his eyes. Joe was out there
somewhere and he didn’t know where. As of last night, Roy Coffee had had no
luck locating Dennis Hardy either. Ben seldom felt the need to take the law
into his own hands, but he knew that if he met Hardy, he wouldn’t be
responsible for his actions.
Rising
stiffly, Ben dressed and went downstairs. The house was silent, and he was
alone with his thoughts. He poked up the fire, and went to make some coffee.
The clock read
From
outside, there came a sound. Ben cocked his head, wondering what on earth it
could be. He rose from his chair by the fire, and was shocked rigid when the
bell rang. He stood frozen for an instant before dashing across the room,
throwing the bolt and yanking the door open.
An
apparition stood there, clinging onto the bell-string. Ben gaped in astonishment.
“Joe?” he ventured, disbelieving.
“Happy
Easter,” Joe said, obviously disoriented, and collapsed in a dead faint at his
father’s feet.
***************
Complete
pandemonium ensued as Ben called for help to get his unconscious, badly beaten
son into the house. Joe was filthy and exhausted. Hoss, once roused, carried
Joe tenderly upstairs and then hastened to get the doctor. Adam dragged himself
out of sleep and hurried to help.
As
Ben washed the dirt off Joe’s face with warm water, his son roused, and peered
at him blearily. “Pa, he’s got Adam,” he said.
“I’m
here, buddy,” Adam said, leaning in so Joe could see him. Of necessity, Joe was
on his stomach, his back being too inflamed to risk laying him on it. “I
thought you were dead.”
“I
almost was,” Joe said, and slid off into a deep sleep.
They
left him undisturbed until Paul Martin arrived with Hoss and Roy. Ben and Adam
had speculated endlessly on where Joe had been, but they knew they wouldn’t get
any answers until Joe was well enough to tell his story.
Escorting
Paul upstairs, Ben told the little he knew. Paul went over to the bed, drawing
aside the covers and gasping as he saw the broken, lacerated flesh there. He
got to work at once, gently wakening Joe to peer into his eyes and check for a
head injury before giving Joe a painkilling injection that sent him once more
into the arms of oblivion.
For
a long time afterwards, Paul was busy cleaning and stitching and generally
working his magic on Joe. When Ben was finally allowed back into the room, Joe
was awake, and lying on a huge pile of pillows. He was swathed in bandages, and
had dark shadows under his eyes. However, when he saw Ben he smiled, then
winced. “Pa,” he said.
“How
do you feel?” Ben asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Sore,”
Joe responded.
“I’ve
given him something for the pain, Ben,” Paul said. “Everything will settle down
again now that I’m finished with him. But he’ll be there for some time to come.
You’ll have to be careful with his back. There’s some infection there, and on
his feet, obviously.”
“His
feet?” Ben said, not having consciously noticed that Joe had no boots on when
he arrived home. He glanced down the bed in time to see Paul draw the covers
back slightly and reveal huge puffballs where Joe’s feet should be. He looked
back at Joe. “Your boots are downstairs,” he said, and Joe laughed.
“That’s
why I couldn’t find them then,” he joked weakly.
Smiling,
Ben ruffled Joe’s hair. “Can you tell us what happened to you?” he asked,
gently, and the smile ran away from Joe’s face.
“Yes,”
he said, but there was the faintest tremble in his voice.
“It
would be best if we had Roy Coffee up here, too,” Ben said, in warning, and Joe
simply nodded.
“Let
everyone come,” he said, and he sounded tired. “Then I won’t have to tell it
again.” He lay back against the pillows while Paul went to call the others. Ben
put his hand on Joe’s, and found his son clutching his hand like a lifeline.
Joe’s fingers were swollen and cold, and Ben gently chafed them.
“You
don’t have to do this, you know,” he said softly, and Joe looked at him, his
eyes suddenly very green.
“I
do,” Joe said, resolutely. “I must.” He swallowed. “But it’ll be hard,” he
added, and tears suddenly slipped from his eyes.
Gathering
Joe carefully into his arms, Ben held him close. “I’m here for you, son,” he
said. “I’m always here for you.”
They
heard the others at the door, and Joe moved slightly. Ben took the hint and
helped Joe lie carefully back. Joe glanced over and smiled, wincing once more,
at his brothers. “Hi,” he offered, and they both responded in kind, but
although little was said, much was meant and felt.
“Can
you tell us what happened, Little Joe?”
Starting
at the beginning, with the confrontation over the filly, moving on to the
harassment of stone throwing, via the shooting of the filly, to his kidnap
along with Adam, Joe told it all. When he began to catalogue what happened to
him on the hill, his voice quavered and broke. He couldn’t contain his tears, and
the other men looked away, to allow him to regain his control. Ben helped him
drink. Thanking Ben, he continued on, and told them of how he agreed to
whatever Hardy wanted, to spare Adam’s life. Adam coloured as Joe threw him a
loving glance. It was plain to see his delight that Adam was indeed alive.
Finally, he told them how he had broken free and trekked home. It had taken him
all day, as he had to rest, and fell asleep.
When
he finished there wasn’t much anyone could say. Adam had already crossed to the
bed, and was sitting close by Joe, not saying anything and not touching him,
but conveying what he felt nonetheless. It was humbling to realise that Joe had
agreed to all that simply to keep him alive.
Mumbling
something about a posse,
**************
When
Joe woke later, he looked a lot better. The shadows were going from under his
eyes and his eyes had regained their sparkle. But as Ben fed him some soft
eggs, Joe was quite serious. “This is Easter, isn’t it, Pa?” he asked.
“Its
almost supper time,” Ben said, “but yes, its still Easter. Why?”
“Because
I was thinking about that a lot this week when I was on my own,” Joe said. “And
what happened to Adam and I was sort of like the Easter story.” He flushed as
he realised exactly what he’d said. “I don’t mean to sound presumptuous,” he
said, hastily. “But there was a willing sacrifice, and a resurrection of
sorts.” He frowned and Ben forbore to interrupt him. “And I got a glimpse – the
barest of glimpses – of how it must have been for Christ on that cross,
“Yes,”
Ben said, huskily. “I understand, son.”
Very
quietly, Joe said, “God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son
that whoso believeth in Him shall have everlasting life.”
Ben
had never heard it said with any more meaning.
***************
When
Hardy hadn’t been found by the next day, Adam and Hoss both went out with the
posse hunting for him. They had no better luck. By then Adam had told the odd
story of how Hardy had thought he would be glad to learn that Joe was dead.
It
was Jeb who unexpectedly found Hardy a few days later. He was on his way up to
the big house to tell Joe that they were still on target with the training of
the horses. He wanted to see how his young boss was doing, too.
As
he rode into the yard, a shot rang out, and the bullet whizzed past Jeb’s
cheek. Without hesitating, Jeb urged his horse into the barn, ducking as he
went through the door. Safe for the moment, he slid from his horse and went
cautiously to the door. The door to the big house opened and Ben stepped out
onto the porch. A shot bit into the post near his head. With a startled sound,
Ben ducked back to safety.
The
second shot had given Jeb the chance to locate the gunman, and he slipped out
the side door of the barn and eased through the corral. The horses there were
milling about anxiously, and Jeb was able to use them for cover quite easily.
Behind the bunkhouse, he looked up, and there was Hardy, lying on the sloped
roof. His attention was fixed on the big house, and Jeb cocked his gun. ”Don’t
move,” he warned.
Hardy
turned and fired a quick shot, but Jeb was ready for him, and was no longer
standing there. He was no longer alone, either, for Adam had been in Joe’s
bedroom, heard the shooting and located the gunman, too. He had come out of the
side door, and round the end of the bunkhouse, safely unseen. “Hold it!” he
ordered, and Hardy took heed of the steely tone of Adam’s voice.
Herding
the man into the house, Adam felt an almost uncontrollable urge to crash the
butt of his gun over this man’s head, as a small payment for all that had
happened to Joe. But that wasn’t Adam’s way, and he did manage to control
himself.
It
was difficult to say which of the Cartwrights was angriest, but Hardy didn’t
seem to care. He slouched on the hard chair he was thrown into, and looked
around with interest. “Not much sign of mournin’ here,” he commented.
“Joseph
is not dead,” Ben said, clearly, and they saw the shock on Hardy’s face.
“I
can finish the job if’n you like,” he offered. “These little ones is a real
pest to get rid of.”
Although
rage was nearly choking him, Ben decided to play along to get the man to tell
them why he had done it. “Have you any experience?” he asked, shooting a glare
at each of his sons, daring them to speak.
“Sure,
I done in my little brother afore I was 10,” he said, proudly. “Nobody guessed
it weren’t an accident.” He scratched his head. “There was others, but I ain’t
always too clear on the details. But I strung a few o’ ‘em up. Want for me to
finish the job?”
“Get
the sheriff,” Ben said, disgust clear in his voice. “He’s going to be busy.”
Hoss
headed off to do his father’s bidding. Adam and Jeb kept their guns trained on
the prisoner. “Why’d you shoot at me?” Jeb asked.
“You’re
the youngest, ain’t cha?” Hardy asked, sounding surprised. “Didn’t cha tell me
you was the youngest?”
“And
Mr Cartwright?” Jeb persisted.
“He
was gonna try and stop me,” Hardy said.
“I’ll
be upstairs,” Ben said, and left before he could throttle the deranged creature
before him.
**************
“Don’t
drop me!” Joe said, sounding slightly panicked as Adam and Hoss carried him gingerly
downstairs a few days later. Joe was feeling much better, but it would be a
while before his feet were up to bearing weight.
“If’n
you don’t stop wrigglin’ like that,” Hoss puffed, “I am gonna drop ya!”
“Promises,
promises!” scoffed Adam, who had to admit that their stairs were not built to
take three abreast – or at least not when one of them was Hoss’ size. He
tightened his grip on Joe’s leg as he felt his brother slip.
“Adam!”
Joe protested, his hand clutching harder at the material of his brothers’
shirts.
“Honest
to goodness,” Ben said, coming into the room and failing to hide his laughter.
“Do you boys have to make such a meal of this?”
“I
ain’t gonna eat him,” Hoss protested. “And I ain’t takin’ him back
upstairs if’n he’s gonna wriggle like that.”
“I’m
not wriggling!” Joe exclaimed, indignantly. “You almost dropped me!”
Still
bickering amiably, Adam and Hoss carried Joe over to the table and deposited
him in his usual place. “Supper downstairs,” Joe said, grinning. He was tired
of being stuck upstairs. He didn’t even complain when Ben stuffed a pillow down
his back.
“It
may be a little late,” Ben said, when they were all seated, and before Hop Sing
brought out the food. “But I thought about what you said, Joe. Easter is past,
but this Easter I learned the story anew, and it means even more to me now than
it did.” He bowed his head. “Lord, thank You for the gifts You have given us,
and for the love You bore the world when You gave us Your Son. Amen.”
“Amen,”
his sons echoed, and seldom had the simple prayer of blessing seemed so
profound.
For
God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whoso believeth
in Him should not perish, but have ever-lasting life.
The End
Easter 2003