Power Of Love

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Racing into the yard, Ben Cartwright had his gun drawn, his face grim as he faced the scene that he had dreaded. All the way out from town he had convinced himself that his sons would be all right, that Bethany hadn’t really sent men to extract the revenge she had vowed to get.

But it was too late, he saw. Far too late. Adam lay in a crumpled heap by the corral fence. Hoss was stretched out on the porch and Joe… Swallowing, Ben wondered if he really could believe his eyes. Joe… was dead!

“So who is she?” Adam asked, as he passed by Cochise’s stall in the barn, carrying Sport’s saddle.

Frowning, Joe stopped fastening Cochise’s cinch to look at Adam. “Who?” he asked, completely mystified. He couldn’t see a single female of any description in the barn.

“Your new lady friend,” Adam replied, slinging the saddle onto his horse’s back. Sport put his ears back and moved restlessly.

“What new lady friend?” Joe queried. He moved so that he could see Adam’s face more clearly.

“The one you’ve been meeting in town,” Adam responded. He glanced at Joe and saw the blank look on his brother’s face, but he wasn’t put off by this display of innocence. Joe was a consummate actor. “Come on, no games, Joe. Just tell me who she is.”

“If knew, I’d tell you,” Joe replied. “Honestly, Adam, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” He watched his brother adroitly dodge a nip from Sport as the cinch was tightened. “You need to stop him doing that,” he commented to Adam. “A good smack on the nose will sort him out.”

“Sport doesn’t mean anything by it,” Adam replied, rubbing the mole-soft nose. “And stop trying to change the subject; I want to know about this girl.”

“Hell, so do I!” Joe exclaimed. “You make her sound very intriguing. Tell me more about her.”

Sighing, for Joe seemed to be more annoying than usual, Adam took Sport’s rein and led his horse out of the stall. “You met her in town on Tuesday when you were supposed to be collecting the mail,” he explained, patiently. “Then you were seen talking to her after church on Sunday. Now, does that ring any bells?”

“What, you mean Bethany?” Joe asked. “Blonde hair, about so tall?” He indicated a height about his shoulder level.

“That’s her,” Adam agreed. “So tell me all about her. You seem to know her well.”

“Not well,” Joe denied. “In fact, those two occasions you mentioned are the only times I’ve met her. I said hello both times and on Tuesday, I pointed out the dress store to her.”

“Uh-huh?” Adam commented, clearly sceptical. “She couldn’t find the dress store?”

“She’s new in town,” Joe replied, defensively. “And do you think I didn’t recognise an excuse when I heard it?” He walked back to Cochise and finished tightening his cinch. “What’s to tell?”

“You mean you don’t have an assignation set up already?” Adam asked in tones of disbelief. “Joe, you are slipping.”

“If you want to ask her out feel free, big brother,” Joe replied, seriously. “But let me give you a word of warning first. Bethany’s last name is Davis.”

“And?” Adam asked, after a moment. “Is that meant to mean something to me?”

Sighing, Joe led Cochise out of the stall and outside the barn. He swung effortlessly into the saddle while Adam mounted the more conventional way and Joe curbed his horse’s forward movement. Sport was champing at the bit, too. “Does the name Bradford Davis mean anything to you?”

It certainly did. “As in Bradford Davis, who somehow managed to stay out of jail, despite the evidence against him for arranging to kill the legislature of Nevada?”

“That’s the one,” Joe nodded. He allowed Cochise his head and the horse moved out of the yard at a brisk trot. Over his shoulder, Joe called, “He’s Bethany’s father.”

The brothers were working separately that day and Joe didn’t return home for lunch, so Adam had to curb his curiosity until suppertime. He was laying in wait for Joe in the barn when his brother came home that evening, tired and dusty.

“You can’t leave the story there!” Adam exclaimed as Joe came into view.

“What?” Joe croaked. His throat was dry from all the dust he had swallowed as he moved the herd from one pasture to another. It had been a long day and he had forgotten about the conversation he’d had with Adam that morning.

“Bethany Davis!” Adam replied, exasperated. “How do you know about her?”

Sighing, Joe started to untack his horse. “Tell you later,” he croaked. “When I’ve cleaned up and had a drink.” He began to brush his horse’s coat and as the dust rose, Adam could see why Joe didn’t want to talk just then.

“All right. I’ll get Hop Sing to heat some water for you, shall I?” Adam could see how tired his brother was.

“That’d be great,” Joe replied, smiling. His teeth shone through the dust on his face. “Thanks.” He continued with his barn chores as Adam went over to the house. Bethany Davis, he thought. Now there was trouble with a capital ‘T’.

“I met her in the street last Tuesday,” Joe reported quietly. He was sipping a cup of coffee, sitting in front of the fire after supper. The warmth of the bath had almost lulled him to sleep, but Hoss had come in to tell Joe supper was ready, which kept him from nodding off. However, he was a few minutes behind the rest of his family and they had let him eat without asking questions. By then, Joe realised that Adam had told Ben and Hoss about Bethany and they were all eager to find out how Joe knew about her. “I was going to get the mail when she stopped me in the street and asked where the dress shop was.”

“The dress shop?” Ben echoed. “Well, that’s a new one.”

A grin lightened Joe’s tired face. “Especially as we were standing right outside it, Pa,” he laughed. “She wasn’t in the least abashed about being caught out. Just introduced herself right out and asked who I was.”

“Did she know the name Cartwright?” Adam asked.

“Yes, she did,” Joe replied, his tone slightly troubled.

“What did she say?” Ben asked.

“She said, ‘Is Ben Cartwright your father? He is one of the richest men in Nevada, isn’t he? Not as rich as my father, of course. My father is famous; he’s Bradford Davis.’”

“What did you say?” Hoss asked.

“What could I say?” Joe asked, rhetorically. “It didn’t matter, she just kept on talking, telling me how they’ve just moved here and she doesn’t know anyone really and was there a dance coming up soon.”

“A dance?” Hoss frowned. “That’s a funny thing ta say.”

“I think it was an unsubtle hint,” Adam explained. “She wanted Joe to ask her out.” He glanced at his youngest brother for confirmation. Joe nodded and drank some more coffee. “And did you ask her?”

“No,” Joe replied. “I just tipped my hat and excused myself.”

“And what about after church?” Adam asked.

“Ah, yes.” Joe looked uncomfortable. “She told me that her father would be hosting a dance at the hotel soon and that she wanted me to be her partner. I told her we would be starting round up soon and it would depend entirely on how that was going whether I could attend any dance during that time. She looked annoyed, so I added that we would be going on the cattle drive to Sacramento immediately afterwards. I don’t think she was pleased.”

“Well, you were hardly very tactful, were you?” Ben demanded, slightly annoyed.

“No,” Joe agreed. “But I don’t think tact would have got the message across.” Joe’s cheeks were suddenly flaming as he recalled the overly familiar way she had touched his behind.

“Why are ya blushin’?” Hoss asked, curiously.

“Its nothing,” Joe responded. This, of course, drew enquiring looks from Ben and Adam, and eventually, Joe admitted that she had ‘goosed’ him. Even though a sly smile played over Adam’s lip, both he and Ben understood why Joe was embarrassed. It was one thing coming from a saloon girl and there was no doubt that a young woman of their class should not know of gestures like that, let alone display them.

“Well, Joseph, I can’t say I blame you for not wanting anything to do with this girl,” Ben sighed. “However, do try and be more polite in future.”

“Yes, sir,” Joe agreed, although he privately hoped that there wouldn’t be any future encounters with Bethany Davis.

“What?” Joe gasped, his jaw hanging slack as the barman’s words sank in. “What do you mean, I’m banned? What for? I haven’t had a fight for ages! Cosmo, what’s going on?”

The rotund barman looked uncomfortable and a flush rose in his cheeks. By now, half the patrons in the bar were listening in avidly. “Jist what I said, Joe. The Silver Dollar’s bin bought over an’ the new owner says I ain’t ta serve ya. Ya ain’t even allowed in here no more.” Cosmo genuinely liked Joe and it hurt him to have to be the one to tell him this news.

Stunned, Joe turned away from the mahogany bar and met the eyes of various cowboys. Some were sympathetic, some were gloating. All were surprised. Sure, Joe was well known around the town for having a quick temper and he did sometimes get into fights. But no more than any other cowboy and usually for a good reason, not because he had had too much liquor.

“What’s he still doing here, Cosmo?” demanded a voice above the general hubbub in the bar.

Although he had never heard the voice before, Joe was suddenly sure that he knew who it belonged to. Slowly, he turned his head and met the cold gaze of the man standing on the stairs. “Who are you?” Joe asked.

“Bradford Davis, Mr Cartwright,” Davis replied, coming down the stairs and crossing to the bar. “This is my saloon and you aren’t welcome here.”

“And just why is that?” Joe enquired. His temper was on a slow burn and Joe took a deep breath, hoping to hold it in check. “Because I couldn’t give your daughter a definite answer about her dance?”

Smiling, Davis didn’t answer that question; he just shook his head sadly, as though Joe was suffering from some kind of delusion. “You have a reputation, Cartwright and I don’t want your kind of person in my saloon. Now, I’ll give you about 10 seconds to get out of here.”

“And if I don’t?” Joe demanded, knowing that he had no choice, but unwilling to go quietly.

At that, Davis raised his eyebrow and looked over Joe’s shoulder, smirking. Slowly, Joe turned, and wasn’t in the least surprised to find two large men looming over him. He looked them up and down then turned back to Davis. “Two?” he sneered. “You flatter me, Davis.”

“Its Mister Davis to you, Cartwright!” Davis snapped.

Expressionlessly, Joe looked back, holding Davis’ gaze. He wasn’t intimidated, although he knew he should be. He didn’t want to leave so ignominiously, but he knew he had no choice. However, he held Davis’ gaze until the other blinked and jerked his head. Joe took only one step before he felt a massive hand on his shoulder.

Spinning, Joe managed to catch the first man unawares, but the other was ready for him. As Joe’s fist grazed the bigger man’s jaw, the second man ploughed his fist into Joe’s stomach, following up swiftly with an upper cut to Joe’s jaw that lifted the slighter man off his feet.

By now, the patrons of the bar were on their feet, watching the beating silently. None of them were going to make the mistake of interfering with Bradford Davis. Joe didn’t stand a chance. When the thugs threw him out of the door into the street, he was bruised, bleeding and unconscious.

His return to consciousness wasn’t pleasant. Neither of Joe’s eyes would open properly and he found it remarkably difficult to breathe through his nose. He tried to move and let out a fearsome moan. “Easy, Joe,” he heard a voice say.

Frowning, Joe tried to think whose voice it was, as it sounded familiar. He squinted vilely and finally sorted out his focus to see that Doctor Paul Martin was leaning over him, looking concerned. “Doc?” he croaked. “What happened?”

“That’s what I want you to tell me,” Paul replied, glancing fractionally at the other occupant of his office – Sheriff Roy Coffee, who had found Joe in the street. “Can you remember?”

“Umm,” Joe began and swallowed painfully. His mouth hurt and when Paul gave him some water, he realised that his lip was split and very sore. “I went… for a drink. Davis told me… I was banned. When I… didn’t leave… fast enough… he set his goons on me.”

“All right,” Paul soothed. “Its good that you can remember. That means no concussion. You just lie still, Joe.”

“Wait!” Joe protested and tried to sit up. His body rebelled instantly and he flopped back, groaning and clutching his ribs.

“Why can you never do what you’re told?” Paul chided, going back to Joe. “Lie still, Joe. You’ve got a couple of broken ribs and I don’t want you moving until I’ve wrapped them.”

Putting his head down again, Joe bit back another groan and closed his bruised and swollen eyes. He heard steps and opened his eyes again to see Roy Coffee. “I sent fer yer pa, Joe,” he told the injured man.

“I want to press charges,” Joe whispered. He found it difficult to get the words to come out properly over his sore lip.

“Joe, there ain’t no point, boy,” Roy told him.

“What?” Despite the pain, Joe managed to sit up this time. His head pounded and the pain in his chest took his breath, but Joe was too angry to notice. “Don’t tell me Davis has bought you, too?”

“That’s enough o’ that!” Roy scolded and he sounded really angry. He fixed Joe with a glare that Joe returned at full wattage, despite the injuries to his face. “I ain’t bin bought by nobody, boy an’ don’ ya forgit it!”

His jaw jutting, Joe didn’t let Roy’s gaze go. After a moment, when they both just glared at each other, Roy explained. “Joe, I cain’t find no witnesses ta say that ya didn’t start that fight.”

Shocked and disbelieving, Joe thought back to the faces he had seen in the saloon. “But there were friends of mine in there,” he protested. “Why won’t they say anything?”

“Too scared, I reckon,” Roy replied. “After all, they seen what happened ta ya when ya defied Davis.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Joe replied, with the bravado that came as naturally to him as breathing. The statement might have had more credibility if he hadn’t groaned at the end of it, as he tried to move.

“Really?” Paul asked. He sounded angry, too, Joe realised and he squinted up at the doctor. “So that’s why I’m going to have to take stitches in this gash on your hairline. You’ve got broken ribs, too and I’m surprised you can open your eyes at all, Joe. Your lower lip is badly split and I’m thinking of taking a stitch in it, too. And you say it wasn’t that bad?” Furious, Paul glared at his patient. “You’re lucky it’s not a lot worse, Joe Cartwright!”

Shaken by the doctor’s anger, for Joe had never seen him anything but calm, cool, collected and in control, Joe stared at him, open-mouthed. “Doc...” he ventured, but another glare shut him up.

“Joe, your eyes are in a bad way,” Paul went on, deliberately trying to frighten him. “You could have been blinded!” He didn’t say that it was his fear of this very occurrence that had roused his anger.

Silently, Joe submitted as Paul stripped off his torn shirt and firmly bandaged his ribs. Every breath was torture for Joe, but he tried to keep his groans to a minimum. He obediently took the painkiller offered to him and lay as still as he could for Paul to take stitches in his head and lip. He had never felt pain like it when Paul put the single stitch in his lip and the world went very grey for some time. When Joe finally surfaced again, he saw Paul was holding more bandages. “What are those for?” he asked warily.

“Holding ice packs on your eyes,” Paul replied. “We’ve got to try and reduce the swelling round your eyes so I can check if your eyes are damaged or not. I know you can see a bit, Joe, but your eyes are too swollen to allow me to examine them.” He picked up the icepacks, already wrapped in cloth to prevent them burning Joe’s eyes.

“But, doc…” Joe protested, but he knew it was useless. In a very short time, the icepacks were held in place with the bandages and Joe was reduced to a dark world. He hated not being able to see, even if his eyesight was not what it usually was and he especially hated the way that Roy and Paul began to talk about him as if he was not there.

“Ben should be here afore long,” Roy commented.

“Good,” Paul replied. “Joe’s going to need help to get home. I’d really prefer that he stay here, but if I know Joe, he’ll have Ben agreeing to him going home before you can say ‘Jack Robinson’.” Paul’s tone was wry. “So I might as well just let him go. It’ll save on the arguments. Roy, what are you going to do about Davis?”

“What can I do?” Roy asked. “He ain’t done nothin’ that I c’n charge him with, Paul. Its only Joe’s word against Davis’ an’ I bet them men o’ his would stand up an’ say whatever he wants in court.” The cynicism in Roy’s voice took Joe’s breath away.

“You’re not going to let him take over the town are you, Roy?” Paul asked.

“He ain’t gonna git away with anythin’ illegal,” Roy replied. “But ya know Davis’ kind, Doc. They somehow manage ta keep jist within the law.” Roy sighed heavily. “There ain’t nuthin’ I can do then.”

“But what’s at the back of this attack on Joe?” Paul demanded.

By now, Joe was growing sleepy, the pain medication doing its work, but he spoke up. “I said I couldn’t take his daughter to a dance.”

“What?” Paul asked, disbelief in his tones. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Joe denied. He swallowed. “She told me that her father was having a dance and she wanted me to take her. I said it would depend on round up and the cattle drive and she was angry.” Joe tried for a lopsided grin, but it ended in a wince of pain as his sore lip pulled against the stitch. “Guess I shouldn’t be so attractive to women, huh?”

“But that’s no reason to ban you from the saloon or have you beaten up,” Paul objected.

“Perhaps it is to him,” Joe replied, quietly. “After all, this is the man who tried to burn down the hotel where the legislature was meeting.”

“He was found not guilty of that,” Roy reminded Joe, although he didn’t sound in the least convinced. “The jury cleared him.”

This time it was Joe’s cynicism that made the other men catch their breaths. “Yeah, and none of my friends just saw me being beaten up for no reason, either, did they?”

When Ben arrived in town, Joe was sleeping, still with the melting ice packs bandaged firmly over his eyes. Quite naturally, Ben was horrified at this, and Paul hastened to explain what he was doing. The voices woke Joe, who tried to turn over, forgetting for the moment that he wasn’t his usual self. He groaned and clutched at his ribs.

“Easy, Joe,” Paul soothed, going over to his side, with Ben close on his heels. “Take it slowly.”

“How do you feel, Joseph?” Ben asked, taking his son’s hand. Joe’s fingers immediately tightened over his.

“Sore,” Joe replied.

Quickly, Paul told Ben what Joe’s injuries were and began to unwrap the bandages from Joe’s eyes. The swelling had gone down a bit from before, but Ben still gasped. Joe slit his eyes open and peered blearily at Ben. “Hi, Pa,” he offered.

“Joe, I’m going to help you sit up and then I’m going to try and examine your eyes,” Paul told him. “Let me know if you get very dizzy. And I’m sorry, but this will hurt.”

Gritting his teeth, Joe accepted help to sit up and was grateful when Ben sat just behind him, allowing Joe to lean against him. Paul fetched his instruments from his desk. Joe sat still, trying to keep his eyes as far open as possible. It seemed to him that Paul took a very long time to check him over and a growing disquiet crept through his body.

“Well?” he asked, as Paul finally sat back.

“As far as I can see, there ‘s no permanent damage,” Paul replied. As Joe started to smile – once more forgetting the sore lip – he added, “As far as I can see. Joe, that doesn’t mean your eyes are fine. I simply can’t see into them well enough to judge for sure. They are extremely bloodshot, which isn’t a surprise and until the swelling dies down and the haemorrhaging has cleared up, I want you to keep your eyes covered. It should only take a couple of days, and I know that you’ll hate it, but I’d far rather be safe than sorry.” He patted Joe’s knee. “Don’t look so dismayed. I’m fairly sure your eyes are okay, but, like I said, better safe than sorry.”

Thoroughly dismayed, and struck dumb for the moment, Joe sat silently as Paul bandaged his eyes again and gave Ben instructions for care of his other hurts. Joe hated being dependent on his family and he felt a burning hatred towards Bradford Davis.

The next couple of days were a real trial for Joe, but he bore the indignities as best he could and was rewarded when Paul came out and took the bandages off his eyes. The swelling had gone down and Paul was able to confirm that there was no permanent damage.

Released, Joe went outside to visit with Cochise and Paul accepted a cup of coffee from Ben. “What’s happening in town?” Ben asked, for none of them had been able to spare the time to go in.

Making a face, Paul took a sip of his coffee to buy himself some time. However, it didn’t make the telling any easier. “There are so many stories going around the town about Joe,” he sighed. “The incident in the saloon has grown out of all proportion and Joe is coming off worst, not surprisingly.”

“I don’t understand why Davis is doing this,” Ben admitted. “Does he really think a few nasty stories are going to make Joe do as he wants?”

“The only person who can answer that is Davis,” Paul replied. “But I think he’s become so used to getting what he wants – however it happens – that he expects everyone to cave in immediately. Of course,” he added, trying to lighten the conversation, “he’s never met a Cartwright before!”

“Do you know what it reminds me of?” Ben asked, smiling briefly. When Paul shook his head he went on, “It reminds me of what happened when Sam Bryant was running the town and we testified against Farmer Perkins. Everyone was running scared and when Bryant thought that he wasn’t going to get his own way, he tried to manipulate my sons by kidnapping me.”

“You don’t think it’ll come to that this time, do you?” Paul asked, soberly, for the same thought had crossed his mind.

“I don’t know,” Ben admitted, but his tone was grim. “I hope not.” He gazed at the door for a moment. “If he’d only bothered to find out about Joe, he would realise that forbidding Joe to see Bethany would have got the results he wanted in no time at all.”

“What, if anything, are you going to do?” Paul asked, knowing that passively waiting was not Ben’s style.

Sighing, Ben met his friend’s eyes. “I’ll have to talk to him,” he said.

If Ben thought that seeing Bradford Davis was going to be easy, he soon learned otherwise. Despite repeated calls at the man’s home, office and the Silver Dollar, Ben was unable to track him down. He suspected that Davis was at home at least once that he called, but he couldn’t prove it and it wasn’t a crime to avoid an unwanted guest.

By now, the whispering campaign had reached the ranch and they began to find that some of the new hands they were hiring for roundup were there just to look at Joe and point the finger. One or two of the more foolhardy ones made comments about Joe within his brothers’ hearing, or the hearing of long-term ranch hands and paid for their rashness.

The problem didn’t just stay on the ranch. Joe was finding that whenever he went to town he was subjected to a barrage of stares and snide comments, especially when he went to one of the other saloons. On one occasion, a new assistant in the mercantile refused to serve him altogether and a nasty scene was avoided only by the return of the owner.

And everywhere he went in town, Bethany seemed to be nearby. Joe became suddenly adept at finding other exits from stores and saloons, but he suspected that it wouldn’t do him any good in the long run. There seemed to be a network of men who’s sole mission in life was keeping Bethany informed of Joe’s whereabouts.

The ironic thing, Joe reflected as he led Cochise out of the side door of the livery, was that he would have been interested in Bethany simply because she was a pretty girl. He wondered how long it would be before Davis started taking stronger measures and buying up all the stores in town, so that the Cartwrights were unable to buy the things they needed. So far, it just been him who had been targeted, as far as they could tell, but none of the other Cartwrights had attempted to go near the Silver Dollar and Joe had found that many of his friends had abandoned the Silver Dollar as their favourite drinking establishment when Joe was banned. Joe appreciated their silent support, but none of them was prepared to say what they had seen in the Silver Dollar that day.

How long was it going to go on? Joe wondered. He was getting depressed by the constant surveillance and he couldn’t understand why Bethany would want a man who so clearly didn’t want her. Was she simply so spoiled that she thought she should get whatever she set her heart on? Joe didn’t know the answer to that nor was he sure he wanted to know the answer.

Mounting Cochise, Joe drew a deep breath before heading his mount out into the main street. He wished there was a way to get from the livery to the road leading to the ranch without going through town, but, unfortunately, there wasn’t.

His horse hadn’t taken more than two steps when the four men stepped out into the alley. Joe immediately pulled Cochise to a halt, eyeing the armed men warily. He had no doubt whom they worked for and he thought he recognised one of them from the fight in the saloon.

“Throw down your gun, real careful like,” one of them ordered. “Then get down off your horse.”

Seeing he had no choice, Joe did as he was told, then dismounted, loosely holding Cochise’s rein in his hand. “What’s this about?” he asked.

“We’ve got a message for you, Cartwright,” the spokesman replied. “You’ve got until roundup is over. If you haven’t asked Miss Bethany out by then, your family is going to pay for your mistake, one by one, until you rectify it. Do you understand?”

“Oh sure,” Joe replied, angrily. “I understand that Bethany wants me but can’t understand that I don’t want her. You give her a message for me. Tell her to leave my family alone, or there’ll be trouble!”

“I think there’s going to be trouble before then,” the man responded and even as Joe ducked to reach for his gun, the man jumped him.

Struggling desperately, Joe was no match for the four men and he found himself held in a vice-like grip. He tightened his stomach muscles, preparing for the beating he knew was coming. However, it didn’t happen. The spokesman stepped forward and slowly holstered his gun. He kept his eyes on Joe throughout, seemingly amused at his prisoner’s struggles.

“This is the first payment on your mistake,” he breathed and drew a large Bowie knife from under his jacket. Joe struggled even harder, to no avail. He watched as the knife came closer and closer to him and then the tip bit into the flesh under his chin. “Remember this warning,” the man went on, as he took the knife away. The tip gleamed wetly with Joe’s blood. “The next payment will be a death.” He laid the blade flat against Joe’s face and smiled. Slowly, he turned the knife until the cutting edge was laying down Joe’s cheek. Joe was barely breathing. “But not your death, Cartwright. A member of your family.” He increased the pressure and sudden pain ran through Joe’s face and he could feel blood spilling out of the perfectly straight cut that ran from his eye to his jaw.

The pain was excruciating. Joe caught his breath and gritted his teeth the better to bear it. He stiffened as his arms were dragged behind him and tightly bound. The he was lifted onto Cochise and his feet tied to the stirrups. His gun was dropped back into his holster. The knife was now resting against his ribs. Waves of pain from his face made him dizzy.

“We need that distraction now,” the spokesman said, and one man disappeared out of the alley. “Don’t say a word, Cartwright,” Joe was warned. “I can kill you just as easily as that.” He snapped his fingers.

Before Joe could think of anything to say, there was a loud explosion. Cochise shied and it took all Joe’s not-inconsiderable skills to stay mounted. From the street, he could hear shouts of alarm and the sound of running feet. Moments later, the man who had set the distraction came back and nodded. Joe’s horse was led out of the alley and trotted down the street. The pace was horribly painful to Joe’s face, and he was reeling when they reached the edge of town. There had been nobody to see his passing.

“Now just remember what you were told, Cartwright,” he was reminded. “Your family will die unless you make the right decision.” An almighty slap on the rump sent Cochise speeding towards home before Joe could muster his strength to say anything.

“Pa?” Ben turned as he heard the soft voice.

“What is it, Adam?” he asked.

Crossing the porch to stand by his father, Adam leaned against the roof support. “I wondered if you were all right, that’s all,” Adam replied. He studied Ben’s face. “Worried about Joe, huh?”

“Yes,” Ben admitted, too tired to even try and make a joke out of it.

“He can look after himself,” Adam assured his father. “He’ll be home soon. You know how many side alleys he’s traversing these days to keep away from Bethany.” Adam tried to lighten the mood, but Ben wasn’t biting.

“That’s what worries me,” Ben sighed. “That among other things.” He looked up to meet his oldest son’s brown eyes. He could read the worry in them quite clearly.

“What are we going to do about this?” Adam asked.

“I don’t know,” Ben admitted. “I just don’t know.” He fell into a troubled silence.

Adam was troubled, too. All his life, it had seemed that Ben knew what to do in any given situation. But not this one. The realisation that his father was merely human made Adam love him all the more. He briefly rested his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “It’ll all work out somehow,” he comforted.

“I hope so,” sighed Ben. He made an effort to shake off his melancholy. “Where is Joe? I thought he’d be home long ago.” Again, their eyes met. “You don’t suppose he’s in trouble, do you?”

“No,” Adam scoffed, but he didn’t quite pull it off. He suddenly did think Joe was in trouble. “I’ll get the horses,” he offered and Ben nodded.

But neither of them had taken more than one step when they heard the sound of hooves and Cochise trotted into the yard, with Joe slumped along his neck. “Joe!” Ben exclaimed and hurried over to catch the horse’s reins. “Joe, what happened to you?” Ben gasped, as he realised that Joe was tied hand and foot. “Adam, help me.”

The blood soaking into Joe’s shirt collar alerted Ben that his son was injured and he raised a shaking hand to gently tip Joe’s hat aside. Joe’s eyes were closed, his face pale, apart from the slender line down his left cheek, and the dried blood that caked his face and neck.

Neither Ben nor Adam could speak. They quickly cut Joe free and Ben pulled his son into his arms. Joe’s head lolled back as Ben carried him into the house, where he laid him on the settee, calling for Hop Sing to bring water and medical supplies.

The line of the cut on Joe’s cheek was perfectly straight. It had already stopped bleeding and didn’t start again, even when Ben washed away the dried blood from along its edges. While Joe gritted his teeth, Ben put a bandage on it to keep it clean. “I’ll go into town and get the doctor,” he said and the tone of his voice left no one in any doubt that Ben was furious.

“Pa, please,” Joe whispered, reaching out and catching Ben’s sleeve. “He said that one of you would be killed if I didn’t do as I was told.”

“This has gone far enough, Joseph!” Ben chided sternly. “I’m going into town to get the doctor out here and I’m going to have words with Bradford Davis while I’m there!” He patted Joe’s hand and tried to disentangle it from his sleeve, but Joe was hanging on fiercely.

“Don’t, please!” Joe begged and Ben could see fear in his eyes.

“You’ll be safe here,” Ben soothed him, not understanding that Joe was not afraid for himself; he was afraid for his family. “Adam and Hoss will look after you.”

Those expressive green eyes widened and Joe tried to sit up. “Pa, please, no!” he cried. “Don’t go!”

“I’m going!” Ben declared firmly and managed to free himself from Joe. He paused for a minute to caress his son’s head, for he could see the tears threatening to fall. “I’ll be all right, son and you’ll be safe here with your brothers.”

“Don’t go!” Joe pleaded as Ben left, but his pleas were in vain.

The ride into town did nothing to quench Ben’s anger; if anything, he was even angrier when he arrived. His first port of call was the doctor’s office, but Paul wasn’t there and Ben had to hunt around for quite some time before he found someone who knew where the doctor was. However, he was out at a ranch on the other side of town, where the owner had had a bad fall and Paul was not expected back any time soon. Since he wanted to speak to Bradford Davis, Ben asked his informant to go and ask the doctor to go to the Ponderosa as soon as he got the chance and tipped him handsomely to do so. That taken care of, Ben decided he’d pay a visit to Roy Coffee and apprise him of the situation.

The sheriff was in his office and he listened gravely as Ben told of the attack on Joe. He shook his head in disgust when he heard about the explosion. “I thought there was somethin’ fishy about it,” he muttered, more to himself than to Ben. “An’ everybody were there gawpin’, so there likely ain’t anyone who seen Joe, is there?”

“No,” Ben agreed, impatiently. “Roy, I’m going over to talk to Bradford Davis right now, and then I’m going back home. I realise that there’s nothing you can do about the attack on Joe, but I’ve had enough and I’m going to try and sort this out now!”

“Now, Ben, ya jist be careful,” Roy warned. “Ya shouldn’t go over there all riled up.”

“If I waited until I’m not riled, Roy; Joe will be old and grey!” Ben retorted and left. Roy sighed, for he really couldn’t blame Ben for feeling the way he did. Roy was finding it increasingly difficult to keep a check on his temper as Davis appeared to be taking over his town and there was nothing that Roy could do about it.

Outside, Ben drew a deep breath before mounting Buck and riding to Davis’ house. He walked briskly to the door and knocked. A butler opened it and looked down his long nose at Ben, who wasn’t in the least intimidated. “I want to speak to Bradford Davis, and I won’t take no for an answer.” For whatever reason, the butler stood back and admitted Ben, leading him into an over-crowded parlour where Davis sat with Bethany, his daughter.

This was the first time Ben had seen either of them face to face. Bethany was a beautiful girl, with long blonde hair and big blue eyes. She had a peaches and cream complexion and a neat figure. But her eyes were cold and calculating and there was something in her expression that gave Ben pause.

Davis himself was a male version of his daughter, older and heavier but still attractive. Looking at him, Ben wondered if he just imagined the ruthlessness in his face, but then he realised that Davis’ smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Ben Cartwright,” Davis said, smarmily. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“I think you already know that,” Ben replied. He hadn’t been invited to sit down, but he did anyway. “I want you to stop harassing my son, Joseph.”

“Harassing your son?” Davis echoed, lifting an eyebrow. “What makes you think your son is important enough for me to harass?”

“Well, your attitude towards him so far,” Ben replied, coldly. “Let me tell you, Mr Davis, I won’t tolerate it.” He glanced at Bethany, who was listening avidly. “My son told your daughter the truth. Right now, we are in the middle of roundup and free time is at a premium. Next week, we will be taking our cattle to market and will be gone for anything up to three weeks. Quite how my son was supposed to make a firm commitment to anything happening during this time is beyond me. However, his polite refusal seems to have triggered this vendetta against him and I am at a loss to explain why.” Ben returned his gaze to Davis. “I don’t appreciate having my family threatened, Mr Davis.”

“What are you trying to say here, Cartwright?” Davis asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I said what I meant,” Ben replied, mildly, although he longed to grab Davis and shake some sense into him. In truth, he wouldn’t have objected to knocking some sense into him, but his common sense wouldn’t allow him to do that. “Our doctor has catalogued Joe’s injuries and will be coming out to treat the knife wound on his face. Let’s stop this now, before someone gets killed.”

Davis smirked. It wasn’t a pleasant expression and Ben knew instantly that his mission had failed and he had quite possibly made everything worse. However, he met Davis’ gaze levelly and refused to be intimidated. “The sheriff is also well aware of what is going on,” he concluded. “Let’s stop this foolishness now.”

“Too late!” Bethany hissed, spitefully before her father could speak. “Your precious sons won’t have the chance to come to my dance now or ever. They’ll all be dead before you get home!”

For a moment, Ben stared at her, hardly able to believe that those words were coming from a girl of about seventeen years of age. “What do you mean?” he demanded, angrily.

“Bethany?” Davis queried, rising to his feet. “What do you mean? What have you done?”

Smiling up at her father, Ben saw the hardness disappear out of Bethany’s blue eyes, to be replaced with a little girl softness. The transformation was eerie. “Why, Daddy, I only did what you do all the time,” she simpered. “I told the men to go out to the Ponderosa and kill the Cartwright boys. Oh don’t worry,” she went on, seeing the look of horror on her father’s face. “Nobody will know it was us.”

Shaken rigid, Ben barely heard Davis whisper, “Oh Lord, what have I done?” All Ben could think was that his sons were in danger. “Bethany, why?” Davis begged.

“I wanted Joe,” she replied. “I always get what I want, Daddy. You make sure of that. But I wanted Joe and I wanted him weeks ago. You haven’t given him to me, so I told the men what to do.”

“What did you tell them?” Davis all but screamed at her.

“I told them to give Joe a serious warning this afternoon,” she answered. “And when they told me that Joe was still defying me, I told them they would have to follow up on my warning and go and kill Joe’s brothers. I told them to do it this afternoon, but since Joe said he doesn’t want me, I’ve decided that I don’t want him, either and I told the men to kill him, too. If I can’t have him, no one can.”

The most chilling thing about her statement, Ben thought, in an oddly detached manner, was the matter of fact tone of voice that Bethany used. He noticed that Davis was as pale as Ben felt. He knew he couldn’t stand there a moment longer. His sons were in danger and Ben had to get to them.

As he turned to leave the room, Bethany asked, “Daddy, what’s wrong? You do this kind of thing all the time.”

Pausing, Ben turned to look at the other man. Davis’ mouth hung open and his eyes were haunted as he realised what his lifestyle had done to his only child. “I hope you’re satisfied,” Ben hissed. “Do you see what you’ve taught your daughter? Are you proud of yourself?” He didn’t wait for an answer.

Racing into the yard, Ben Cartwright had his gun drawn, his face grim as he faced the scene that he had dreaded. All the way out from town he had convinced himself that his sons would be all right, that Bethany hadn’t really sent men to extract the revenge she had vowed to get.

But it was too late, he saw. Far too late. Adam lay in a crumpled heap by the corral fence. Hoss was stretched out on the porch and Joe… Swallowing, Ben wondered if he really could believe his eyes. Joe… was dead!

Not knowing which son to go to first momentarily froze Ben to the spot. Then Hoss groaned and stirred and sat up, clutching his head. Sliding from Buck, Ben said, “Hoss?”

Glancing over, Hoss squinted at Ben. “Pa, see ta Joe,” Hoss urged. “I’ll git Adam.”

Ben needed no further urging. He ran across the yard to where Joe lay, a knife in his gut, his arms spread-eagled. He looked dead to Ben, with no signs that he was breathing at all. His heart contracted in fear. “Joe!” he whispered, anguished.

To his utter astonishment, Joe moaned slightly.

Falling to his knees, Ben tentatively felt for a pulse. It was there, weak and thready, but there. “Joe, can you hear me?” Ben asked. “Joe?” He looked at the knife sticking so obscenely out of Joe’s body and saw the blood pooling on the ground. There wasn’t as much blood as Ben had expected to see and he grasped this frail tendril of hope with both hands. “Its all right, Joe,” he soothed, even though he knew Joe was deeply unconscious. “The doctor will be here soon.”

“Pa?” came Hoss’ fearful voice. Ben turned and saw his middle son standing behind him, blood streaming from a scalp wound.

“Sit down, Hoss,” Ben urged, rising to grasp his son’s arm. “How’s Adam?” He looked over at where Adam lay against the corral fence and was relieved to see that Adam’s eyes were now open.

“He’s bin shot,” Hoss reported. “But the bullet went right through his shoulder. I reckon he’ll be all right, Pa.”

“What happened?” Ben asked.

“These fellers came ta the house,” Hoss replied. “I were out here when they arrived an’ one o’ them shot at me. I didn’ git a chance ta fight back, Pa. Next thing, one o’ them hit me real hard from behind. I dunno what happened after that.” He closed his eyes for a moment and Ben saw once again how white-faced Hoss was.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ben soothed. “You sit here with Joe while I check on Adam.”

“But, Pa,” Hoss protested. “We need ta git the doctor out here fer Joe. Unless he’s…”

“Joe’s alive,” Ben immediately interrupted. “He’s hurt bad, but he’s alive. Don’t worry, Hoss, Doc Martin is on the way already. I asked him to come earlier.” He eased Hoss to the ground beside Joe and took another anxious look at his youngest son before hurrying over the yard to his oldest. “Adam?”

“Hi, Pa,” Adam replied. He tried to smile, but he was clearly in a lot of pain and it didn’t quite come off. “Pa, those men… They were… too quick for me. I tried to keep Joe safe.” Adam moved slightly and winced. “Sorry.” He bit his lip.

“Joe’s alive,” Ben told Adam. “He’s gravely hurt, but he’s alive.” Gently, Ben moved aside the torn, bloody shirt and looked at the bullet wound in Adam’s right shoulder. It was ragged and bleeding, but as Hoss had said, the bullet had gone straight through. “Let’s try and get you into the house, Adam,” Ben suggested. He pulled his son to his feet and supported him inside the house, where he made Adam lie down on the settee. It was only then that he realised that he hadn’t seen Hop Sing.

Hurrying into the kitchen, he found the Chinese cook sitting on the floor, holding his head and moaning. Hop Sing quickly assured his employer that he would be all right and he got to his feet, determined to start boiling water and preparing for the doctor’s arrival. Satisfied that Hop Sing hadn’t suffered any serious injury, Ben went back outside to sit with Joe.

It seemed to Ben that an inordinate amount of time passed before the doctor arrived, but later he decided that it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes or so. But that was still too long for Ben’s peace of mind as he watched over Joe, who remained unconscious, although the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

Jumping down from his buggy, Paul Martin hurried over to Ben’s side. He felt Joe’s pulse and nodded. “We need to get him inside at once,” Paul commented. “Is Hoss here to help?”

“Hoss and Adam were injured, too,” Ben told him. “Hoss took a bad knock on the head and Adam was shot in the shoulder. Hop Sing was knocked out, too.”

“In that case, its up to us, Ben. Easy does it.” He slipped one hand under Joe’s shoulder and the other under his knees. Ben, on the other side, copied him and they carried Joe carefully into the house.

In the great room, Hoss started to rise as he saw his brother carried into the house, but Paul Martin shook his head. “Just sit right back down, Hoss and stay there!” he ordered. “You’re too shaky on your feet to help us. Keep an eye on Adam for me.”

Soon, Joe was lying on his bed, looking deathly pale. Fresh blood was oozing out of the wound again. “Ben, get me some towels and hot water, please. Then go downstairs and tend to your other sons while I removed this knife.”

“But, Paul…” Ben protested.

Putting his hand on Ben’s arm, Paul met his gaze squarely. “Ben, trust me on this. You don’t want to see this operation. I can’t promise to save Joe’s life, because I don’t know what kind of damage the knife has done, but I will do my very best. Should anything happen, I’ll call for you at once. But I can’t do this with you in the room.” He patted his friend’s arm. “Please, Ben, its for the best.”

With one more anguished look at Joe, Ben went to get the things Paul needed. He brought them to the room and lingered for a moment, stroking Joe’s hair in that familiar gesture. Then, silently, he left the room and didn’t look back.

The silence in the room was palpable. Adam dozed restlessly on the settee. Hoss sat slumped in the blue velvet chair at the foot of the stairs and Ben gazed blankly into the fire. It seemed that Paul had been upstairs for a very long time, but no matter how often Ben looked at the clock, he could detect no movement of the hands. Not that it would have mattered; he had no idea what time it had been when Joe was taken upstairs.

At long last, footsteps were heard on the stairs and Ben found himself standing at the bottom looking up, his heart thumping painfully against his ribs as he waited to hear what Paul would say. The doctor’s face was drawn and tired and Ben didn’t know how to interpret what he saw. “Paul?” he asked.

“It was tricky,” Paul replied. “Very tricky. But I got the knife out and it didn’t do too much damage. There was a little internal bleeding, but not much and I got it stopped. Joe’s going to be very sore, but as long as infection doesn’t set in, he’s going to be fine. He’ll be weak for quite some time, and I don’t want him to set foot out of that bed for at least a week.” He allowed a small smile to cross his lips. “But he’s alive, Ben.”

“Thank you!” Ben breathed. He wanted nothing more than to dash up those stairs and sit with his son, but he had other sons who needed him, too. He hesitated.

Brushing past Ben, Paul had a quick look at Hoss’ head. “Good thing you Cartwrights all have hard heads,” Paul commented. “Joe had had a knock on the head too, Ben, probably when he fell. He did waken up before I gave him some ether. Hoss, go to bed and have a good sleep. I’ll come and waken you in a couple of hours.” He patted the big man on the shoulder and pointed to the stairs. “And don’t get up before tomorrow!”

Turning, Paul went over to Adam, who was sitting up slightly. “Let’s have a look at you.” He pulled the shirt away and examined the wound closely. “A good clean and a few stitches will put you right,” he announced. “I can manage that without your help, Ben, so off you go and sit with Joe. He’ll be coming round soon.” He slid an arm under Adam’s shoulder. “Come on, Adam, let’s get you to bed.”

Ben came over to help, but Adam was much steadier on his feet than he had been earlier and Paul waved him away. “I can manage, Pa,” Adam assured him. “You go and see to Joe.” He watched Ben mount the stairs before giving Paul a small smile. “That was very adroitly done,” he complimented the physician.

“Thank you,” Paul replied. “I’ve had lots of practice!”

During the night, Joe began to run a temperature, and Paul anxiously checked the wound on his stomach, but there was no sign of infection and by daybreak, his temperature was falling again. Joe had opened his eyes briefly during the night and had accepted water, but hadn’t spoken. However, as dawn broke, his eyes flickered open and he gazed blearily at Ben.

“Hi, Pa,” he whispered.

“Hi yourself,” Ben replied, leaning in close. “How do you feel?”

“A bit strange,” Joe murmured. “Like I’m floating.”

Smiling, Ben replied, “That’s the morphine.” Paul had given Joe quite a hefty dose of it to tide him over the first few hours of consciousness. “Do you remember what happened?”

A frown crossed Joe’s face. “Those men came again, Pa. Hoss was outside and we heard him shout and when Adam opened the door, he was lying on the porch. Adam went for one of the men and they fought, but another one shot him.” Joe’s eyes widened. “Is he all right?”

“Adam’s fine,” Ben soothed. “He got hit in the shoulder, but it’s not serious. He’ll be up and about later on.” He knew instinctively the next question and answered it before Joe could even form the words. “And Hoss is fine, too.”

Relief caused Joe to relax on the bed and his eyes closed for a moment. Opening them, he went on with his story. “I went for my gun, but I wasn’t quick enough. Two of them caught me and dragged me outside. One, the one who did all the talking in the alley, told me that Bethany didn’t want me any more and that if she couldn’t have me, no one could.” Joe’s eyes closed again and he swallowed convulsively. Ben took his hand and Joe’s fingers tightened around his. “And then he stabbed me,” he whispered. A lone tear trickled down his cheek.

Hearing Joe telling the story brought it all vividly to life for Ben, far too vividly for his liking. It had been bad enough knowing that his sons were in danger as he rode home. It was worse to know what they had faced without him there to help. This time, Davis had gone too far, and Ben was going to see that those men were stopped.

“Easy, Joe, its all over now,” Ben soothed. “You’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

He sat there for a long time, just stroking Joe’s arm, until his son slipped back into a healing sleep. Rising stiffly, Ben went to check on the rest of his family and found that Adam was getting dressed with some help from Hoss, who looked back to his usual self. “How’s Joe?” they chorused.

“He’s been awake and talking,” Ben replied. “He told me what happened.” He drew in a deep breath. “How are you both this morning?”

“Fine,” Hoss replied.

“Better,” Adam answered.

“Good,” Ben nodded, relieved. “I’ve got to go into town and speak to the sheriff and I’d like you boys to keep an eye on Joe. Paul said he’d be back later just to check him out.”

“What are you going to do?” Adam asked.

“I’m going to press charges,” Ben replied. “I saw Davis yesterday and his daughter admitted to both of us that she sent those men after Joe, and then after you all.”

“Bethany ordered this?” Adam gasped.

“Yes,” Ben replied, grimly. “She had seen her father doing this kind of thing all her life and didn’t see why she shouldn’t do it, too.” Thinking back, Ben remembered the look on Davis’ face. “I don’t think he had realised what his lifestyle had done to his daughter.” Sighing, he rolled his tired shoulders. It had been a long night. “I’ll be back soon.”

However, he didn’t have to make the ride into town, for Roy Coffee arrived before Ben had even got out of the house.

“Paul came an’ reported the gunshot wound,” he told Ben. “That’s the law.” He accepted a cup of coffee and sat with Ben at the table while the other man finished his breakfast. Ben told Roy about his visit to Davis the previous afternoon and Roy was soon back on his horse, riding back to town to arrest the men involved and Davis’ daughter. Ben, relieved of the need to ride to town, went to bed.

“Gone?” Ben looked stunned.

Nodding, Roy confirmed it. “Yep. Lock, stock and barrel, Ben. There ain’t a sign o’ them anywheres. The house is unlocked, the furniture is all there, but all their clothes and horses are gone. Cosmo said that Davis came in and told him the Silver Dollar is up for sale. Cosmo is to find a buyer and put the money in an account in the bank and Davis will get it ‘later’.”

“What about his bully-boys?” Adam asked.

“Took them with him, as far as I can make out,” Roy replied. “They’re gone, at any rate.”

“So now what?” Ben asked.

“I’ve sent out wanted posters,” Roy replied. “After all, they are wanted for attempted murder. But I don’t know when, or even if, we’ll hear anythin’.”

“Isn’t there anything else you can do?” Adam demanded angrily.

“Like what?” Roy asked. He could understand Adam’s anger very easily. He felt it too. “We’ve had a posse out lookin’ fer them an’ we didn’ find anythin’. There ain’t nuthin’ more I can do, Adam.”

“Well, that’s that then,” Adam commented after Roy left.

“I’d better tell Joe,” Ben murmured and went back upstairs.

Joe was asleep when Ben went in, but he was moving restlessly and within a few minutes had wakened. Ben helped him to pee and then gave him some more painkillers, since he was still very sore indeed. Having to do these things angered Ben, because he now knew that the people who had done this to Joe would probably never be caught. It made him feel very impotent.

“What’s wrong?” Joe asked, quietly and just for an instant, Ben wished Joe wasn’t so sensitive to atmosphere and unspoken thought.

“Davis, his daughter and their men have disappeared,” he told Joe. “Vanished without trace.” He watched Joe, but his son didn’t have the energy to spare in impassioned outbursts and took the news more quietly than Ben had expected.

At length, Joe spoke. “What made her think she could do that and get away with it?”

“I don’t really know,” Ben replied, for this was a subject he had spared a lot of thought about that day. “But Davis had been doing shady things all her life and I think Bethany had grown up thinking this was the way everyone behaved. She was certainly very spoiled, but that doesn’t explain why she did this. I wish it did.”

“Her father seemed to have a lot of power,” Joe commented.

“Yes, he did,” Ben agreed. “And he used that power the wrong way.”

“Yeah,” Joe nodded. “He should’ve used it to show Bethany the power of love, like you have with us, Pa.”

For a moment, Ben was struck dumb. Compliments from your children are always the hardest to take, he thought, wryly. “Thank you,” he stuttered finally. Joe gave him an angelic smile.

They were silent for a while longer as Ben once more mused over Davis’ reasoning. Then Joe spoke again and voiced the thought Ben had been trying to not think of.

“Do you think they’ll come back?”

There was no answer for that except the truth, however unsatisfactory and disquieting it was.

“I don’t know,” Ben admitted.


The End

 

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