In the eighth season episode "A Time to Step Down", written by Frank Chase, Joe has to convince his father that old-time wrangler and Ponderosa hand Dan Tolliver (played by Ed Begley, Sr.) is too old to go on the coming trail drive. When a minor accident occurs involving Hoss, Ben reluctantly agrees. Tolliver, however, takes offense at being asked to stay on in a lesser position and quits. He ultimately joins forces with two men who have been fired for drinking on the job and they kidnap Joe. The old wrangler then goes to Ben for the ransom money, full of self-righteous indignation. Ben gives him the money and warns him. When Dan returns to the campsite, a shoot out takes place and Joe is shot by one of the other men but Dan finally comes to his senses and, with his two partners dead, decides that the Cartwrights are indeed his real friends and that he has been foolish.

The following story picks up at this point and includes the last scene but considers the words Ben has stated in no uncertain terms to Tolliver: "…if Joseph is hurt in any way, there isn't anyplace far enough or dark enough that I won't find you." And those words, so clearly, eloquently, and unequivocally spoken, can see him……..

Damned

A What Happened Next Story

 to

A Time to Step Down

            With the rising of the sun over the eastern mountains, Ben Cartwright cursed himself again. All through the long night he had silently paced the great room. When that had grown too small to contain his rising fears and anger, he went into the yard. He had given Dan Tolliver just what he wanted: all the money in the safe. And he had been specific with him. "If Joe comes home by morning, the money is all yours. I'll forget this ever happened but if he is hurt in any way," he heard himself saying again, and again felt the rise of black anger in his chest, "there isn't a place on Earth that is far enough or dark enough that I won't find you." And then Tolliver, an old man and a one-time friend, had shouldered the bulging saddlebags and walked out. Now as Ben strode purposefully towards the barn and his horse, his holstered revolver slapping at his thigh, he felt the anger surging through him again. He had felt it when the door had closed behind Tolliver and it had built within him all night long. Now Joe had not returned with morning's first light and Ben cursed himself for having trusted Tolliver.

            He was in the process of pulling Buck's cinch tight when he heard the wagon in the yard. Shoving the horse to one side, Ben ran from the barn.

            There in the center of the yard stood the buckboard and the team Joe had taken into town the day before. Loaded with supplies, Ben was nearly to the seat before he realized that Joe was wedged awkwardly between the front of the wagon and the seat, blood staining his right side. Looking quickly around for help, Ben saw no one in the yard. He pressed a finger against Joe's exposed throat and while he saw the bruises of a fight on his son's face, he also felt a heartbeat. Ben called Joe's name several times but there was no answer and seeing how pale and cold to the touch Joe was, Ben truly hoped that he wouldn't answer, that he would be unconscious and therefore not feel the pain and suffering Ben would have to subject his son to in order to get him down from the wagon alone. One last time, he called for help. Not a soul heard him.

            By the time Ben had pulled his son's body from the wagon, he himself was shaking and breathing hard. Standing Joe up and leaning him against the wagon side, Ben steeled his own nerves, knowing that getting Joe into the house would be just the beginning of his problems. There was no one else to go for the doctor, no one else to help him get Joe into bed; no one else but him. And worse yet, Ben could feel Joe coming back to awareness.

            The breathless "Pa?" that Joe said so softly Ben almost missed.

            "Shh, now son. Let's get you inside. Can you walk a little for me?" Ben begged, knowing without looking that the wound had begun bleeding again. He slipped Joe's left arm over his shoulders and wrapping his arm around Joe's waist, half carried him towards the house. The sharp cry of pain forced from Joe made Ben stop and lower him into the rocking chair on the porch gently. With one hand, Ben swept Joe's hat away so that he could look fully into his son's face.

            Ben would remember everything in clear detail about those next few moments. The sun, having risen fully now, laid a golden slant of light across Joe's face. When Ben touched his face, Joe's eyes fluttered open and for just a moment, there was no sign of pain in their green depths. There was only the realization that he was home and with his father. His lips lifted in the barest smile of recognition but before Joe could say anything, the sun slipped his face into a shadow and he lost his will to stay awake. Ben's heart stopped beating as the breath Joe had been holding slipped out in a long sigh. Then nothing else.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Joe's chest began to rise and fall again beneath Ben's hands.

 His head bowed in prayer, Ben didn't hear Adam and Hoss until they were right there beside he and Joe. Adam was reaching for Joe's throat, feeling for a pulse and willing there to be one. He wasn't completely sure he would find one after he and Hoss had ridden into the yard and found the tableau they had. And when Ben hadn't responded to their calls, it had doubled Adam's panic.

            "He's alive but he's been shot. Adam, ride for Paul Martin and Roy Coffee. Hoss help me get Joe into the house," Ben quickly ordered, his tone fierce and cold, but within him burned a fire of hot anger towards Dan Tolliver, the man he knew was responsible.

            Thankfully Joe hadn't regained full consciousness in the ensuing ordeal of getting him into the house and into bed. There had been only a deep moan escape him when Ben had tried to remove Joe's jacket, so instead, Ben used a pair of shears and cut Joe's bloody clothes off. When Hoss had gone to pull off his brother's boots, Joe again had moaned and Ben had tersely told Hoss not to pull on Joe any further.

            "Don't move him!" Ben had barked and Hoss had flinched at just the sound of his father's voice. Seeing the pained look on Hoss' face, Ben did his best to gentle himself down. Hoss wasn't at fault any more than Joe was, he reminded himself. "There seems to be a clot of some sort that is keeping him from bleeding too much. We move him and I am afraid that it will break loose. If that happens, Joe can bleed to death in no time. So, please, son, just take your knife and cut his boots off."

            "Yes sir," Hoss mumbled and did as his father asked, his sharp knife slicing through the thick leather easily. "Any idea what happened?" Hoss asked then wished he hadn't.

            "I know exactly what happened!" Ben barked sharply. "Dan Tolliver, we had to let him go. He was just too old for riding herd any longer. He didn't take it well, blamed Joe, blamed me, blamed everyone but himself for it. He hooked up with some friends, he called them. They kidnapped Joe and Dan had the gall to come to this house last night and demand the money in the safe. Said Joe wouldn't be hurt!" Ben paused long enough to try and regain his self-control but Hoss could tell his father was about to lose the fight again. "I told him just as plain and simple as I could that if Joe came home this morning, Dan could have the money free and clear! But if Joe was hurt…" and Ben's words came to a heated breathless halt then he stood and began to pace the room like a caged animal. "So help me, Hoss, I never thought Dan would do this. If I had, I would have followed him last night and maybe none of this would have happened. I'll see Dan Tolliver pay for this, so help me God, I will."

            Rather than risk his father's wrath, Hoss stayed silent. He didn't want to tell his father what he and Adam had found just after daybreak not five miles from the house. It was the signs that someone had made camp there the night before. They had found frayed rope and scuffmarks in the dirt that looked like a fight had occurred there recently. And there was fresh blood on the ground but no bodies. The wagon tracks had headed for the ranch and those, he and Adam had followed. Overlapping them had been the tracks of three shod horses, but they soon veered off in the general direction of Virginia City. If Dan Tolliver had been part of this like his father had said, Hoss couldn't understand why he hadn't tried to cover his trail. And who had helped Joe into the wagon? Looking down at his brother, Hoss knew Joe couldn't have done it all on his own.

            "Go downstairs and get some water heating. Paul will need plenty. Start some coffee as well. Then find all the towels and bandages that you can and get them up here."

            With his head nodding at each instruction, Hoss let his father know that he understood them but still he remained at the foot of Joe's bed. When it dawned on Ben that Hoss hadn't left the room, he turned to the big man and stopped pacing and throwing out orders. With a loving hand to the big back hunched over beside him, Ben also studied the paleness of his youngest laid out so much like a corpse, so still and barely moving.

            "I'm not angry with you, son; I'm mad, angry at myself for having trusted someone I shouldn't have. Please, do as I ask."

            "Yes sir," came Hoss' muted reply and reached out one massive hand to gently touch Joe's blanket-covered leg. "Be easy on Pa, Joe, it don't look like he's had much sleep," Hoss teased gently but it fell flat. Again he patted the leg before him and left the room.

            Assuring himself that Joe wasn't bleeding any more than just the faintest of trickles, Ben decided that anything else was best left to Paul Martin's skillful hands. With some of the warm water Hoss brought up, he did try to wash away some of the after-affects of the fight Joe had obviously had. A bruise, dark and spreading, covered one cheek bone and just wiping gently across it made Joe moan deep in his throat and turn his head away from Ben's touch. His hands, Ben thought to himself, look at his knuckles, all skinned. Good for you son, you tried to give as well as you got. But don't worry. Dan Tolliver will pay for this. I'll see to it. As though Joe could hear his father's thought's, he muttered something too soft for Ben to hear as he fought to regain consciousness. In the end, though, it was too much and Joe had dropped back into the well of welcoming darkness.

            Ben wasn't sure how long he sat there beside Joe's bed and waited. At first it seemed to him that he was waiting for Joe to take one breath then another, his chest so slow in rising and falling that Ben was sure that it would stop and not start again. But after a while, Ben realized that a rhythm had developed and that he could look away without fearing that Death would steal his child when he wasn't looking. He tried to block out all feeling but found he couldn't. One stayed with him: anger. It was an anger so real to him, so real that Ben wanted to slap a saddle on it and ride in search of Dan Tolliver.

From the depth of that anger Ben recalled the old wrangler as he had stood before him, a gun drawn, demanding the money from the safe, using Joe as a bartering tool. Joe, who had known Dan all his life. Joe had looked upon Dan as an uncle almost. Dan had taught Joe how to throw a rope. And had crowed just as loudly and as pleased as if he were the father to the smiling little boy who had roped the fence post. Dan Tolliver. Joe had been right when he had said that Dan needed to step down, that it was time for the old man to rest finally. Ben, his hands clenched hard about themselves, remembered the pain in his son's eyes as he had told his father just that. Dan Tolliver hadn't taken it well. Dan Tolliver had put a bullet in his son to show him just what an old man could still do. Dan Tolliver, Dan Tolliver, Dan Tolliver. It became almost a litany as Ben slammed one huge fist into the other, as he became more and more determined to see Dan Tolliver just once more.

            He heard the sound of horses pulling into the yard and heard Adam's voice calling out for Hoss. Ben looked out and saw Paul Martin hurrying into the house and Adam and Hoss still standing in the yard, their heads together, talking. Hoss reared his head up and seemed to say something to Adam that he didn't want to hear. As Ben watched, Adam's face darkened then he swung back into the saddle again and left the yard at a gallop. Hoss followed Paul into the house, his hands fists, and Ben could see the knuckles were white even from his vantage point.

            Once Paul entered Joe's room, Ben was pushed out of the way. Pacing in the hallway did him no good either. Finally, at a loss for anything else to do, he went down the stairs and sat in his chair before the fireplace.

            "Here," Hoss nudged his father's arm, trying to break into the silence that had fallen over his father. Numbly, Ben took the cup of proffered coffee and sipped it without tasting it.

            "Adam said that Roy weren't there. I told him what you said about Dan Tolliver shootin' Joe," Hoss explained, sitting down on the stonework, his back to the now dead fire. "Adam didn't say anything but that he'd be back in a bit."

            That seemed to shatter the silence around Ben and his head shot up and his eyes, now hard black orbs, seemed to imprison Hoss. "Dan Tolliver will be mine to take care of," he said, so ominous and threatening that Hoss was sure his father meant every syllable.

            "You want to tell me what this is all about?" Roy Coffee asked. The lawman had ridden in just moments before. His knock on the door had not been answered so he had pushed the unlatched door on open just in time to hear Ben Cartwright's words.

            Like a rattler striking out at his prey, Ben rose to his feet and pounced on the sheriff. The look in Ben's eyes made even Roy take a step back.

            "Dan Tolliver!" Ben's voice rose like the sound of a furious storm as he told the grizzled sheriff what had happened the night before not ten feet from where they now stood. When he had finished, Ben was literally panting, pacing in long strides that reminded Roy of a caged tiger he had once seen. Roy simply nodded his head, his thumb tracking down his graying mustache.

            "That must be why Dan Tolliver's in my jail cell right now. Scared to death, he is," Roy said evenly.

            Ben rounded on the other, his fists hard knots at his sides, his brows a single flat line across his brow. "He should be scared!"

            Roy held up both hands, seeking to placate or at least slow the Ponderosa's patriarch down. But it was useless.

            "I told him and I meant every word I said. If Joe came home unhurt, Dan could have every last cent that I gave him out of the safe! And I also told him that if Joe," Ben took a deep breath and struggled with his thoughts a moment before he plunged on, raging in Roy Coffee's face. "I told him I would hunt him down if Joe were hurt. Never in my wildest dreams would I have believed that Dan would shoot him! But he shot Joe!"

            "No, he didn't," Roy sought for calmness in the face of the rising anger he felt sweeping through his old friend.

            With an arm thrust towards the stairway, Ben's voice dropped to an ominous whisper. "Joseph is upstairs with a bullet in his side. God only knows what has kept him alive this long but you and I both know the chances of a man surviving a gutshot. Don't tell me that Dan Tolliver didn't shoot my son because I know he did. And may God have mercy on that man's soul if my son dies because of it. I won't!"

            "Ben! Settle down!" Roy grasped hold of both of Ben's arms and nearly pulled the distraught father from his feet. "You listen to me and you listen real good! Dan Tolliver rode into Virginia City 'bout an hour after daybreak. He had them two lowlifes Sands and Temple belly down over their saddles. He told me everything that had happened. How they kidnapped Joe, how he came to you for the ransom. He swears he never intended for Joe to be hurt but that there was a fight. Joe had killed Temple but Sands shot Joe. And Dan shot Sands. Then Dan helped Joe into the wagon. Way he tells it, Joe was losing blood pretty badly and he got scared. He said he knew you would come after him and listening to you, I believe the man! Anyway, he said he drove the wagon until they were close enough to the house, then he laid Joe over in the seat and slapped the team and sent 'em on. He went back to the campsite and loaded up Sands and Temple then come into town. He begged me, Ben, begged me, to lock him up because he was afraid. And still is!"

            "Dan Tolliver is still responsible for Joe being shot, Roy," Ben hissed, yanking his arms from Roy's grasp.

            "And probably the reason why Joe is still alive," Paul Martin called from the top of the stairs. "Hoss, I need your help up here."

            Ben started for the stairs and Roy let him go but the doctor stopped him. "Not you Ben. Right now I need someone who's in control and you aren't." Before Ben could protest or say another thing, Hoss passed him, briefly touching his father's shoulder as he went up the stairs.

            "What do you mean?" Ben shouted but Paul Martin pretended not to hear.

            "Way I see it," Roy said so softly Ben almost didn't hear him, "we need to wait until Joe can tell us what happened." He gently pulled at Ben's arm and easily propelled him into the chair by the fireplace. Roy spied the coffee service on the table and poured Ben a cup that he literally had to place in Ben's hands. The cup of coffee was the only warmth in the big room.

            In all my times coming out here, I think this is the first time I have ever seen there not be a fire going, Roy pondered and sat down on the cold stones to wait.

            In the next few hours, Adam returned home. After a brief exchange with Roy, Adam had merely sat beside his father waiting. He didn't tell his father that he had ridden like a man possessed into Virginia City in search of Dan Tolliver. When he had found the old man locked in the county jail, he had lunged through the bars, grasping at the man. He didn't tell his father that if he had gotten his hands on Dan Tolliver, Tolliver wouldn't be alive, but the cell bars had protected Tolliver and Clem Foster had finally made Adam leave. Angry, Adam had told Clem that he would be back and when he did, he wouldn't bother with beating Dan Tolliver to death, he would simply do the same thing Tolliver had done to Joe: shoot him down. But in talking briefly with Roy, Adam had calmed down, praying for the chance for Joe to tell them what had happened. He had been torn as to what to do; wait beside his father or go upstairs to help. He chose to stay with his father. If Paul needed him, only then he would go, sure that his father would want to go with him as well.

            The sun was dropping behind the barn before Paul Martin came down the stairs. He looked tired and he was, but first he knew he had a duty to perform. He had heard the exchange between Ben and Roy and knew he had the one piece of proof other than Joe's own words that would save Dan Tolliver's life that day. Even though it was still damp from the repeated rinsings, he dropped it into Ben's hand.

            "That right there kept Joe from bleeding to death. It was crammed into the bullet hole tight. Like I said, that saved your son's life, Ben. I know it ain't Joe's and I know he couldn't have put it in that wound. You recognize it, Roy?"

            Wordlessly, Ben opened the piece of cotton and let it rest across his palm. It was faded so badly that it was more a gray color and the repeated rinsings hadn't washed away all of the blood on it. A lump rose in Ben's throat that he couldn't get his voice around or he would have said that he knew who it belonged to. Instead, he crumpled it into his fist and squeezed it so tight that his knuckles went white from the pressure.

            "It's Dan Tolliver's, isn't it, Ben?" Paul asked, his voice just a little above a whisper.

            Ben said nothing, his chest constricting in pain as he sat there, the center of attention.

            Roy Coffee spoke up first. "Dan Tolliver saved Joe's life with that neckerchief, Ben."

            Ben remained speechless still.

            "How is Joe?" Adam asked.

            "Lost a lot of blood but all in all, I think he's gonna be all right. He's gonna be slowed down some for a while but if I know Joe, he'll be saying he's fine in a week or so!" Paul scratched his head, trying to put assurance into his tone and not sure he managed. He knew that the young Cartwright would face an uphill battle to recover but he was fairly certain that he would recover.

            "Can I….. can we," Adam's words faltered momentarily, "Can we go up and see him?"

            "He's sleeping so if you don't wake him I don't see any harm in it."

            Adam helped his father to stand and walked behind him as they headed for the stairs. Roy patted the black shirted shoulder as Adam passed and Adam mutely nodded his thanks for the consolation in the touch.

            It didn't take the week Paul Martin had forecasted before Joe Cartwright was pestering and haranguing all within the sound of his voice. He was fine, he told everyone within days of the shooting. As long as they didn't see him switching positions, it was almost believable too. That late morning, his target was his father. But his badgering was  having no effect until Adam stepped into Joe's bedroom and said "Dan Tolliver is downstairs, Pa."

            Both Adam and Joe saw the change wash over Ben. They looked at one another then let their eyes follow their father's form as Ben left the room.

            "Adam, help me get dressed, will you? " Adam, even against his better judgement, did as Joe asked.

            Dan Tolliver stood head down just inside the door. He heard the heavy footfalls coming down the stairs and knew it was Ben but he didn't look up. Even when Ben came to stand nearly toe to toe with him, he didn't look up. He just continued to roll his hat in his hands and try again to find a way to apologize to his old friend.

            "Hello, Dan," Ben cautiously greeted, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from striking the other.

            "Ben," Dan muttered and looked to one side, ashamed. "I come to see how Joe was doin'."

            Ben shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. The urge was strong in him to lash out at Tolliver even though Joe had confirmed the truth of what had happened. No matter what, Dan had been part and parcel of hurting his son and that Ben couldn't easily get by.

            "Doc Martin says he'll be okay but he's missed the trail drive, of course."

            The battered hat made another few turns in the old man's hands then he finally looked up into Ben's face. What he saw was a carefully held blank expression, something completely out of character for the Ben Cartwright he had known for so many years. He let his eyes meet Ben's and that was when it hit him the hardest for there it couldn't be hidden. Ben Cartwright was beyond angry.

            "I'm sorry, Ben," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I'm real sorry. Joe was right when he told me that all the money in them bags couldn't buy me a friend like you. If I could take it all back, I would, Ben! Never meant for Joe to be shot like that, I swear it!"

            Ben took a deep breath before he replied. "I know. Joe said as much but it doesn't change things, Dan. What you did, what you allowed to happen, nearly cost my son his life. You never had children, Dan, so you don't know how that makes me feel. You can't begin to imagine how it felt to have my son's blood covering my hands. You can't understand how it makes me feel when I see my son in pain. And all because of money?!"

            Tolliver looked again to his feet and he chewed on his lip a moment then spoke softly as he began to slowly pace the room, looking up once at the staircase. "You're right, I never did get hitched and have my own young'uns. But in a way, Ben, I did have sons. All them boys that come through the ranch here over the years that I taught to rope cows, to brand 'em and such. They were like my children to me. So when one of the ones I prized among the rest of them, your boy Joe, when he told me that I was too old, somethin' snapped in me. I'm sorry, Ben, that Joe got shot and I'll stand up and take any punishment the law will lay on me for it. But that can't be worse'n the feeling I had when I saw Joe go down. I thought for sure he was dead right then and all I could think of was how was I gonna live with havin' been part of the bullet that did it. I can imagine how you felt, findin' Joe like you did, seein' him in pain, seein' him bleedin'. I know because I saw it and felt it too. And now, now I see the hurt in you too Ben. And all I can do is say that I am sorry."

            "Dan, saying that you are sorry isn't enough," Ben coldly stated, turning and watching the old man moving around the room. It struck Ben that Dan Tolliver had aged maybe twenty years in the last few days. As he walked, his steps were more like shuffling. He never looked up for more than an instant and his back was bent forward as though carrying a heavy load. In short, there was no spark left in the man Ben knew.

            "But words is all I got left, Ben."

            "That ain't true," came a much younger voice from the top of the stairs. Joe, fully dressed and upright, started slowly down the steps as he spoke. A quick glance over his shoulder and a wink thanked Adam for his help in getting up and to the head of the stairs. Joe knew he couldn't have done it, despite his big claims to the contrary. The fact was that Adam had just stepped away and back into the hallway, making it appear that Joe had done it all by himself and that wouldn't go unacknowledged either. But now Joe was faced with walking down the stairs. Grasping hold of the railing with one firm hand, Joe had slowly and, to all appearances, nonchalantly took the steps, gritting his teeth with every footfall that jarred his right side. When he finally managed to get to the last one, he found Dan Tolliver there to help him to the sofa. His father had been a short step behind Dan.

            "What in the name of ..? Joseph, I heard Paul Martin say nothing about getting out of bed!" blustered Ben, hurrying to make sure that Joe sat on the sofa promptly. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that the only reason Joe had done what he had was that Dan Tolliver had come calling.

            "I 'gree with Ben. Joe, you be needin' the doctor before the day is out for this sort of foolishness! Even a dumb ol' cow knows when to stay put!" Tolliver clucked his tongue and scowled at the younger man.

            Joe let the two men fuss over him for a few moments then he grabbed Dan Tolliver's arm to stop him. "I wanted to thank you, Dan. If you hadn't helped me into the wagon and gotten me home, Doc says I wouldn't have made it on my own. I gotta agree with him there." To emphasize his point, Joe comically grimaced and held his right side. He would let slide the fact that he knew Dan had panicked, leaving him helpless in the wagon when Tolliver had returned to the campsite.

            The old man's face softened and his eyes regained a little of their sparkle. "Joe, like I told your pa.." he started but Joe held up his hand to stop the apology.

            "No, I need to apologize to you. I thought you were a useless old man who didn't know when it was time to step aside and let us younger ones have a crack at the world. You are anything but useless, Dan. I'm sorry I ever thought of you that way." As he spoke, Joe's eyes, as well as his hand, held the old man. When he finished, Joe looked over the other's shoulder and saw his father just standing there. His father's face was still like stone, cold and unyielding and Joe couldn't understand why his father still carried on like that. If I can forgive Dan Tolliver, why can't you?

            "Sometimes, us old folks need to have you youngsters shove us aside. We been holdin' on to the reins for so long, that our hands feel empty otherwise!" Dan Tolliver teased lightly and gently slapped at the knee before him.

            "Well, seeings how they haven't let me do anything around here lately," Joe bantered back and saw his father stiffen slightly, "I thought maybe we could convince you to come back to work for us. But there is only one problem: Hoss has taken the herd and headed to market with 'em, so there ain't a lot of wrangling to be done."

            Dan Tolliver gradually lowered himself to sit on the square table, letting Joe drop back gently to recline on the sofa but staying directly across from him. He knew where young Cartwright was going and he would go there but first there was the little game to be played so that each man could keep his dignity. Tolliver let his chin come to rest on his fist as he appeared to ponder the words.

            "Go on," he urged.

            In all truth, it didn't take that much convincing for Dan Tolliver to return to the Ponderosa payroll. The remains of the herd would need to be taken to the high meadows for grazing before winter set in. The horses would have to be culled as well, the prime animals corralled to be broken and the rest let back out to run another season. With the coming of autumn, there were ranch chores no end to be taken care, and with Hoss gone, Adam tending to the logging operation and Joe laid up, well, could Dan Tolliver see his way into helping them out?

            With a quick wink to his father who now sat back in his favored chair, Joe went on. "After all, a man of Pa's years, he just isn't capable of getting all that done and ride herd over me!"

            Both older men chuckled but Dan Tolliver's was with real mirth. "Ben, if this boy weren't already in such bad shape, I do believe he'd need a good whippin'!"

            "Well, why don't you hang around until I am healed up, and we'll see if you can still give me one!" Joe warmly teased and leaning forward, patted the man on the leg. It was too bad that he couldn't see the pain cross his father's face.

            "Pa," Adam pleaded earnestly. "If Joe can get beyond this, why can't you? This isn't like you at all!" He settled his saddle into its accustomed spot in the corner of the barn then turned to face his father again, taking his father's saddle from him to do the same.

            "I've tried, Adam. I've truly tried. For your brother's sake. For Dan's sake but I just can't. Every time I see Dan Tolliver's face, I see your brother, blood pouring down his side, sitting there in the rocker on the porch. And just for that one moment when I thought he had died-"

            "But Joe is alive because of what Dan Tolliver did!" Adam insisted and turned back to face his father again. The day had been long and hard on both of them and it showed in his father's face. Together with Dan and few others, they had moved a portion of the remaining herd into new pasture. Each man had done his job to perfection but with so few hands, the job had taken longer to complete. The hours in the saddle were nothing to Ben Cartwright. What had tired him quicker was the strain he placed himself under. All the time he was pushing cattle, he was wondering what Joseph was doing back at the house. Giving Joe strict instructions about not leaving the sofa, Ben was sure had been a waste of time. And seeing Dan Tolliver working the cattle beside him as though nothing had ever happened had not improved Ben's mindset either.

            "I know that!" Ben bit off each word sharply and saw Adam flinch at the tone. "But Dan Tolliver did more than just that! He destroyed something it took years to build! With one selfish act, it destroyed 20 years of friendship between us," he continued and not seeing understanding come to Adam, strode, back ramrod stiff, from the barn.

            Adam's brows twitched. It wasn't like his father to hold a grudge against a man. For any reason whatsoever! Always before with his father, once a sincere apology was extended, he would accept it and move on. Now he seemed to be hanging onto the hate, the anger, the fear. With that last thought, Adam paused. Was that what was driving his father more than anything else: fear? Fear of losing a son? Of course, but there seemed to be an even greater fear underlying all of it. Fear of growing into a Dan Tolliver, trying to still do a younger man's job and failing? He shook his head. Adam wasn't sure if it was either one, both or something else all together. He checked on the horses once more and turned down the lantern light in the barn and headed for the house.

            For once, Joe seemed to have followed instructions because he was just where he had been when Adam and Ben had left that morning: ensconced on the sofa with Hop Sing hovering. Once Adam had shed his hat and gunbelt, he playfully smacked at his brother's head before sitting down in his chair by the fire.

            "You get them cattle moved okay?" Joe asked and the other two men could hear plainly the half-whine that said Joe had wanted to be there helping.

            "Of course! What did you do today?" Adam queried, his lips twitching into a smile.

            "Well, I started off with a good nap but Hop Sing woke me up for lunch. I read a little of that book you loaned me, Adam, but I got to tell you that Shakespeare just put me right back asleep!"

            Ben smiled indulgently. Perhaps a day without having to put on a brave face had been good for the boy after all. He knew that every time Joe changed positions, it had hurt, even if Joe tried hard to not show it. Paul Martin had been out two days earlier and seemed pleased with Joe's recovery even if it was a little faster than he had anticipated. That was the way with the young. You could never figure out just how they were going to take things.

            When Hop Sing called that dinner was ready, Joe waved off Adam's offered assistance and got to his feet on his own. Both Ben and Adam tried to not notice how slowly Joe walked to the table or that he half-fell into his chair. After all, Joe figured the sooner he was back to truly being independent and feeling better, the sooner his father would heal as well.

            "You know Joseph, I could use some help on the books," Ben sternly said, purposely not looking at Joe as he filled his own plate.

            "I don't know about that, Pa. You know sitting up in a chair like that and all. Might not be too good for me," Joe ripped back and took the platter of meat from his father's hand.

            Adam laughed aloud. "How do you like that, Pa? He swears he could sit a horse all day but a chair?"

            Ben too chuckled and finally laughed full-throated when Joe's reply that the chair wasn't moving and that would bother him more than a moving horse. Adam laughed and smiled as well, making a mental note to thank Joe later for getting their father to laugh. It had been too long missing. But as quick as it came, it left when Joe asked how Dan Tolliver had done that day. Ben's bitten off word of "fine" sounded hard to both of his sons.

            "Pa if you will just give him a chance-" Joe started and had to stop when his father slapped his hand on the table, demanding that there be no more talk of Dan Tolliver.

            Heads bowed under the onslaught of their father's wrath, Joe and Adam looked at one another sideways. Joe muttered an apology and for the next few moments the only sound in the house came from Hop Sing in the kitchen.

            Ben took a deep breath and looked at the bowed heads around the table. "Hoss should be home in the next couple of days," he said and went back to eating as though nothing had happened. Adam and Joe quickly finished their meal, while Ben kept up a long one sided conversation. Once they finished, Joe put his napkin aside and asked to be excused from the table.

            "Need help, little buddy?" Adam asked, sincere in his asking. Joe nodded succinctly and without another word passing between them, Adam stood and helped Joe to stand. Obvious that Joe was headed upstairs, Adam went with him but Joe waved him off once he got to the stairs. Although Adam doubted his sincerity, he knew sheer guts would get Joe up those stairs and behind closed doors before he would show any weakness. With a solicitous pat on the back, Adam let him go but stood at the foot of the stairs, unsure of what he should do. Finally he turned to his father.

            "What?" Ben asked, seeing the look on his eldest's face.

            "For the first time in my life, I feel like I should chastise my father," Adam said, his lips drawing tight to stop anything else from escaping them. When his father had merely given him a black look, Adam looked up the stairs then back at his father. "Good night, Pa," he almost hissed then took the stairs two at a time.

            In his room, Joe had gotten as far as the chair beside the bed before his strength gave out. Numbly he sat there, confused and hurt by the way his father was acting. For a few moments, he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt then gave up completely. When the door opened behind him, Joe started to straighten in the chair but Adam's firm hand on his shoulder and the soft "don't" kept him where he was.

            "Guess I shouldn't have said anything about Dan Tolliver," Joe groaned. "Adam, what is wrong with Pa? Is he angry with me?"

            "Far from it," Adam replied and sank onto Joe's bed, lacing his fingers together between his knees. "I think Pa is afraid."

            "Pa? Afraid of what?" Joe scoffed and tried again to unbutton his shirt.

            "You don't think Pa could be afraid of anything? He's a man, just like you and me. And I've been afraid of some things in my life. So have you," Adam soothed. "Pa was afraid for you, Joe. Gunshot wounds to the belly aren't the easiest thing to survive, you know."

            Joe shook his head once and let his fumbling tired fingers drop away from the button. "No, this is more than that Adam."

            With a clipped nod that he agreed, Adam stood and pulled his brother up and shifted the younger, slighter built Joe onto the bed with ease. "I'll agree with you but I think it's something else too. I'm not sure what it is but I sure wish he would get over it! You need help?"

            Giving up on the buttons, Joe grabbed his shirttails and pulled the shirt over his head in one smooth move that only made him grunt once as the stomach muscles pulled. He looked at his feet and remembered the fight he had earlier in the day with Hop Sing. He gratefully kicked his slippers off. If they had been his boots like he had wanted, it would have been a whole different scenario. "Naw," Joe sighed, "But I do wish you would figure out what's eating Pa."

            "That's big chore! Good night Joe," and with an affectionate nudge to Joe's shoulder, Adam left the room.

            Once into his own darkened room, Adam didn't bother to light the lamp but striped down quickly and crawled into bed. With a deep sigh, he laced his fingers behind his head and looked out the window into the star-filled sky. He had been joshing with Joe but he had been serious too. Trying to figure out what was eating at his father was a big job and not one he wanted to shoulder. Was it fear the way he had thought and told Joe? Yes, but that was only partly the truth it seemed. There was something there in his father that was bigger than that. And it was making his father excessively moody and down right hard to get along with. Just like Joe when he is feeling guilty about something, Adam thought and smiled. But then his smile fell away. Was that it with his father? But what was it that Ben felt guilty about?

            "This is against my better judgement, young man," Ben scowled. "Just two weeks ago, you weren't strong enough to get out of bed on your own! Now you are fixing to ride out with me-"

            "Pa," Joe interrupted and gingerly stepped into the stirrup and swung aboard his pinto. "I spend another minute in that house and I will go completely stir-crazy. I've got to get out! Besides, Doc Martin said that I could."

            Pulling his hat down firmer on his head, Ben gave his youngest son a hard glare before he too swung into the saddle. "I think Paul had in mind a buggy ride, not you in the saddle."

            In reply, Joe gave his father a saucy wink and pulled Cochise's head around, ready to leave the yard. "Funny. I didn't hear him say anything about how I could get out. Just that I could."

            "You walk that horse, young man. Do you hear me?" and even as Joe walked Cochise out of the yard, behind him he could hear his father's continuing stream of instructions. Joe would only give him part of his attention. It felt so good again to be on a horse, even if he did have to keep the animal at a sedate walk to keep peace in the family. He wondered how long they would ride before his father started hinting that they should be returning.

            Seeing how relaxed Joe was in the saddle, Ben let himself relax as well. The coiled emotions inside him began to slowly unwind and loosen. With the warm sun on their backs and a gentle wind blowing in their faces, it was easy for both father and son to forget the recent past for a while. At one point, Ben had pulled to a halt to just watch Joe move out a little ahead of him. Indeed, Joe rode easy in the saddle. There was no sign of stiffness. No sharp intake of breath that he tried to hide a spasm of pain in. No quick grab to his side either. As Ben watched, all he saw was what he normally saw: a man, his son, more at ease on horseback than on his own feet, the reins held loosely in his hands, one foot half way out of the stirrup.

            Coming out of the trees, they dropped down into a small flat meadow. Joe pointed but Ben had seen it too. At the far end, Dan Tolliver was teaching Cliff Lewis, a young man not twenty years old yet and fresh off the farm. The lanky blonde haired boy sat his horse uneasily and had his head down, paying attention to how he coiled a rope into his hands. Dan's voice carried easily.

            He heard the horses coming and he half turned to see who it was. He didn't like having spectators while he taught his pupils. He had always known that with someone watching, the pupil got more self-conscious and therefore more apt to not be listening to what he was saying. But seeing Ben and Joe, Dan knew he wouldn't, and couldn't, turn them away. But wisely, they stopped a ways from him and didn't interfere.

            "Easy boy," he called again when the boy missed lassoing him by a country mile. "Just let your rope drop easy."

            Dan saw the Cartwrights remained on their mounts, Joe crossing a leg over his saddle horn. He wondered what Ben was thinking. Since it was Friday, and payday to boot, all the men would work a half day. Here it was early afternoon. He had started teaching this young man on his own time and the lessons had stayed that way: not during the hours Ben paid for, not interfering with assigned work. The boy threw the lasso again and missed again.

            "Joe, I swear! This fella here is harder to teach than you were!" Dan called out and saw Joe wave and smile to him so he ambled over to the mounted men. "Say, when I get tired of tryin' to get this boy's rope to go straight, I'm headed to Virginia City. How about you join me and we'll have us a beer together?"

            "I'd like to Dan, but not tonight, okay?" Joe's words were filled with laughter and friendship, pouring over the old man like honey.

            "Sure, son, sure." And for good measure, he patted Joe's leg there in the stirrup beside him. He squinted up at Ben's face as he turned but there was no welcoming smile there. "How about you Ben? I'll even buy the first round for old time's sake."

            "I don't think so either Dan," was all Ben said. Dan tried to smile as he headed back to his student, calling him every thing under the sun but his name.

            "Well, I think you've been out enough, Joseph. Ready to head for home?" Ben didn't wait for an answer but nudged Buck towards the house over the next rise. Joe followed, tipping his hat in Dan's direction but he figured the old man hadn't seen it. He wasn't being the good and obedient son now. A dull ache had begun to creep up his back and every once in a while, a stitch would form in his wounded side. He was ready for his ride to be over.

            Lunch was mercifully short. The ache that had started in Joe's back was now becoming a pounding headache and if he had had to pretend one more minute that he was fine, Joe doubted that he could have. Instead, a small emergency involving a broken fenceline drew his father away from the table in a hurry. Joe sat where he was for long enough to make sure his father wasn't going to come back then he rose, leaning into his right side, his hand pressing there as if to hold the pain at bay. He made it as far as the sofa before his legs just simply refused to go any further. He stretched out, not caring that his boots were muddying the furniture.

            Hop Sing had heard the commotion of Ben leaving and then the sounds that said Joe was leaving the table as well. With a string of short sentences in his native tongue, punctuated by hands waving in the air, he surveyed the half-eaten lunch he had prepared. His sentences grew harsher and shorter yet when he spied Joe sprawled on the sofa in the living room. Fussing grandly, he ended up, his face set in an angry scowl, standing over Joe who obviously wasn't listening.

            "Hop Sing make good lunch. No body eat! Hop Sing clean house. No body care! Leave boots on and get dirt all over! Hrumpf!" Despite his snort and lack of approval, he used a fair amount of care to remove Joe's boots then got a quilt from the upstairs linen closet and covered the sleeping man with it. He harrumphed once more for good measure then returned to his own chores of the day. He had wanted Joe to go with him to pick the wild blueberries that abounded near Tahoe but it looked now as if he would have to go alone. Hop Sing quickly removed the dishes from the table. He figured he had just enough time before Hoss and Adam returned. Now there were people who appreciated Hop Sing's abilities, he thought!

            The broken fence was quickly repaired and the two calves who had made good an escape through the hole were promptly returned by Ben to their mothers. He thanked the men for having taken their free time to help him and told them he would remember to add a little something to their next pay. The men smiled broadly and left.

            It was on the way back to the house that a memory assailed Ben and he slammed his heels into Buck, picking up the pace considerably. It was the last Friday of the month and he had dinner plans to meet with Gary Bowman and discuss Cattlemens Association business before the regular monthly meeting on Monday. What with having to care for Joe and the running of the ranch short-handed, he had forgotten all about it. Once glance into the sky and he figured he had time to get home, get cleaned up some and get into Virginia City but it would be a tight squeeze time-wise.

            He saw Joe was sleeping on the sofa and chuckled softly to himself. Oh, yes, you are just fine, aren't you? That little ride done tuckered you right out, boy! Well, Adam and Hoss will be home later on and you see what you can weasel out of them! Hope Hoss whips you good at checkers for stretching the truth to your old pa!  Rather than stay another moment and enjoy his own private little victory, Ben instead hurried on out the door, tying his tie as he went. If he hurried, he wouldn't be late to dinner.

            "Well, I, for one am glad you are back, Hoss! With our little brother still not able to do chores, that has left more than a little hole in the mess!" Adam slapped Hoss on the back and smiled when dust puffed out. Hoss took off his hat as they crossed the yard towards the house and slapped at his dusty pants with it.

            "I'm glad to be home. Hope Hop Sing has somethin' good cookin' cause I have certainly missed it!"

            "And you look like you have lost what? A pound? Maybe two?" The sound of their boots filled the wide plank entryway and the jostling of the two coming through the doorway should have been enough to bring Hop Sing scurrying from his kitchen.

            "Hey!" Hoss exclaimed when there was no greeting from any one. "Where is ever'body?"

            "Don't know," Adam answered and took the few steps needed to see into the kitchen. It was empty. And uncharacteristically, dirty plates were on the worktable. It was like Hop Sing had left in a big hurry. Scratching his head in wonder, Adam turned to go back into the living room. Hoss was standing there, a funny little smirk on his dusty face, one hand holding up a corner of a quilt.

            "Well I found one of 'em. Ol' Sleepin' Beauty here, all cozy and such. Think I should holler in his ear and wake him up?"

            "Better not," Adam warned and came to stand beside Hoss. "He's had a rough go of it lately." He took the quilt corner from Hoss and started to drop it back over the still unresponsive Joe. That was when he noticed that Joe's face looked a little flushed. Instead of dropping the cover back, Adam moved Hoss aside and laid a cool hand to Joe's face. He inhaled sharply. "He's burning up!"

            The joy of coming home burst like a bubble for Hoss. "Oh lordy, you sure Adam?"

            By now, Adam was kneeling beside the sofa, shaking Joe's shoulder but getting no response. "Of course I'm sure! Get me some water and a rag from the kitchen. Then see if you can find Hop Sing or Pa!"

            There was no one else to be found and Hoss hurried back to inform Adam. He found Adam still beside Joe. Adam's head lifted expectantly when Hoss came barreling through the door.

            "Pa's horse is gone. So's the buckboard. Think Pa went after help?"

            "Don't think he would have left Joe like this. Hoss, help me get Joe upstairs then you ride for Doc Martin."

            Hoss could feel the heat coming in waves off Joe as he easily lifted him. Joe made not a single noise but lay limp, his features flushing deeply. With Adam opening the bedroom door, Hoss got Joe into his room without any problem. He was about to leave when he heard Adam's curse and turning back, saw that Joe's body had gone tight as bowstring, his back arched, his head thrown back.

            "Help me, Hoss! He's having a convulsion!" Adam screamed but what either of them could do was a mystery to both. Frantically, Adam tried to cool Joe's body down and little by little it seemed to help as Joe's body slackened, falling finally into complete relaxation.

            "Adam, I'm riding as far as the first man I find. I'll send him for help then come back," and before Adam could argue, Hoss was gone.

            Willy Turner was the first man Hoss Cartwright came across. Hastily he gave the young cowpoke instructions. To get the doctor was an easy one for the other to remember and to do. But the second one, young Turner would spend time accomplishing. He had no idea where to find Ben Cartwright in Virginia City. Where would a man as important as Mr. Cartwright go? All Willy knew was that Ben Cartwright certainly didn't favor the sorts of places he did. It only occurred to him later in the evening to tell the sheriff and even then, he wasn't sure just what was wrong out to the Ponderosa. Hoss hadn't told him so when he asked the sheriff where he might find Ben, he hadn't said anything other than he needed to find him. Roy had given the man directions to where he thought Ben was having dinner: the home of Gary Bowman and his wife. But Turner spent another fifteen minutes looking at houses and, unable to read the street signs, missed the Bowman house completely. Finally he saw the buckskin horse he usually saw Ben Cartwright ride. It was tied up outside of the International House Hotel and, thankfully, Ben Cartwright stood beside it.

            "Mr. Cartwright!" Turner hailed and skirting a lumbering wagon, hustled across the street.

            "Evening Willy," Ben greeted cordially but then saw that the other was in a near panicked state for some reason. "What can I do for you?"

            Panting and out of breath, Willy told him what Hoss had said to tell him. "You need to get home right away!"

            Ben pressed for more information but Turner couldn't supply it, only adding to his statement that Hoss had told him to get Doc Martin as well.

            The same fear he had felt before came rushing back over Ben. "Is it Joe?" He grabbed the other man's shoulders and demanded attention. "What's happened?"

            "I swear, sir, I don't know! Hoss was in a powerful hurry and he didn't tell me much."

            "But you went to Paul Martin's first?" Ben pleaded, begging for an affirmative.

            "Yes sir, right away like Hoss told me but I have had a time finding you! I looked this whole town…" By that time, he was speaking to no one. Ben Cartwright had thrown himself onto his horse and was a dwindling figure in the twilight.

            When Ben pulled Buck to a lathered halt in the yard, he was beyond fear and into full-blown panic. Every light in the house seemed to be lit, the front door stood wide open as did the kitchen door. Paul Martin's buggy was pulled up to the hitching rail but wasn't secured. Chubb stood to one side, still saddled, but ground tied. But what made Ben's heart pound even harder was Paul's shout for Hoss to help him. It came from upstairs. It came from Joe's room.

            Ben hurried, his feet not carrying him fast enough. He paid no heed to Adam's voice when Adam shouted for his father. He took the stairs two at a time and if Joe's bedroom door hadn't already been open, he would have battered it down. Paul Martin and Hoss blocked his view of what was happening but it appeared that nothing was. He pushed Hoss aside. There on the bed, tangled in wet sheets, Joe laid, his eyes closed and his chest heaving, fighting for breath.

            "Ben," Paul's voice was stern but soft in his ear. "Come out here, into the hall."

            Numbly, Ben shook his head and stayed put. A glance at Hoss gave him no clue what was happening.

            "Ben, Joe has a fever. A really high one right now. He's fighting, fighting hard. As a result, he's been having convulsions. It's not something you want to see happen to your child. No parent does. Please Ben. Go back downstairs. Help Adam. He's been chipping ice, making cold packs for us. That's the only thing that is going to bring Joe's temperature down."

            "What's…. causing …the fever?" Ben's words stumbled. Paul pulled again at his arm but Ben would not be moved and he couldn't pull his eyes from the bed.

            "I think it's that wound. Infection set in after I closed it up. It's tender and under the skin, it's hard but not like muscle tissue. I'm gonna have to open him up again but I can't do that if there is the possibility of another convulsion."

            Ben nodded briefly, understanding and taking it all in finally. "Hoss, go down and help Adam. Bring up the rest of the ice from the spring house."

            Hoss exchanged looks with the doctor. He would have spared his father what he had experienced that evening. The uncontrolled and uncontrollable muscle spasms that made Joe's body stiff, arching his body painfully until something in him shut down and he would fall limply back to the bed; these were hard to deal with. But just as hard had been the ice packs that fought the fever and Joe unconsciously tried to escape from when placed against his flesh. Finally, the decision had been reached and they had tied Joe's hands to the sides of the bed. Now, with his father standing there and telling him to leave, Hoss wanted to go but wanted to stay as well. Only years of discipline made Hoss leave with an ashamed and mumbled "yes sir."

            Paul shook his head slowly. He didn't want Ben here. He didn't want the man to see his youngest son suffering this way. But as Ben shed his jacket, the physician knew there was no way to remove Ben.

            The minutes ticked by slowly. Cautiously, Ben untied Joe's nearest hand and took it in his as he settled beside the bed. Paul touched Joe's forehead, searching for the again rising fever that would precipitate another convulsion. All though it was still uncomfortably warm, it hadn't spiked again. When a half-hour had passed without another onset, Paul Martin began his own preparations. He listened and found Joe's heartbeat, although a bit faint, it was still there. Pushing Ben to the head of the bed, Paul again gently probed the still vivid scar on Joe's lower right side.

            "It's either now or never, Ben," he warned, a hand to Ben's shoulder to gain his full attention.

            Ben blinked twice then nodded, returning his attention to watch his son.

            "I'd rather not do this with you here. If things don't -"

            "What do I need to do?" Ben interrupted. "Tell me and I will do it but I am not leaving Joseph."

            "Fine then but don't get in my way. Here, take this," and Paul handed Ben a cloth he had poured chloroform on to, " and keep it over his nose and mouth. Not tight, just enough pressure to keep it there. When I tell you," and he pressed the bottle into the father's hand, " put a few more drops but not a lot, you understand? He has got to stay still during this. I don't know what I am going to find, Ben. Maybe a bullet fragment I missed, I don't know. It may not be even from the gunshot. But this is going to be the only way to find out. Can you handle that, Ben?"

            "Course I can," Ben replied, a touch of cold heat in his tone.

            Over Ben's head the physician told Hoss he needed more light and for Adam to bring up any more clean towels he could find. And would Hop Sing please bring him some boiling water to clean his instruments? Ben turned and watched as Hoss and Hop Sing quickly disappeared. He had been unaware that they were even there. But Adam, Adam stayed, finally coming into the room when Paul went to one side to sort through his instruments for what he would need.

            "Pa," Adam whispered, "you don't need to do this. I'll -"

            "You'll do as Paul asked. I am not leaving this room until this is over," adamantly Ben seethed. "Why are you all so intent on my not being here?"

            "I don't want to see you hurt, Pa, that's all" came Adam's consoling reply as he finally knelt beside his father. Looking up into his father's dark eyes, Adam wasn't sure but what he wasn't too late.

            "I stay," Ben responded flatly.

            Mercifully, Joe didn't move so much as an eyelash. At first, Ben was captivated by Paul's hands as they moved with such dexterous swiftness. He watched up until the point Paul paused with the scalpel over the reddish scar already on Joe's side. From that point on he couldn't watch. That was his son's flesh being opened, his child's body being pushed into by bloody fingers and cold heartless metal. To Ben, it was as though it were his own. He trembled and looked away, afraid that he would have shouted for Paul to stop otherwise. When instructed, he let the few drops go onto the white cloth covering Joseph's lower face. He fixed his eyes on the widening ring they made, his hand resting on his son's chest. Ben let his own breathing fall into the same rhythm as Joe's. Within his mind he spoke to his son, telling Joe and himself that everything was going to be fine. He mentally spoke a parent's nonsense to a fevered child, letting himself forget for that time that the child was a man grown.

            "Ben," Paul's voice called him back and the doctor's hand, now clean, took away the bottle and the chemical laced cloth. "It's over, Ben. We were right all along. An abscess had formed deep in the wound. I've cleaned it out good."

            Instinctively Ben looked to where Paul had gestured. The once healing wound was now opened yet filled with gauze.

            Before he could ask, the doctor answered Ben's question, "No, I'm not going to sew it closed right now. I have it packed with alcohol soaked gauze to try and draw the rest of the infection out. We'll change that every few hours until the infection is gone. Then I'll close it up. Right now I need your help in helping me get a bandage around this boy to hold all that in place. You help me?"

            "I will," was Adam's prompt reply, not giving his father the opportunity. "You just hang on to him, Pa. We'll take care of this." With his eyes, Adam gestured to his father's hand that had some how wrapped itself around Joe's.

            By dawn, Joe showed virtually no sign of fever. When he finally came awake, he reached for his side instinctively. The burning pain there had disturbed him long before he was able to open his eyes. Only his father's strong hand held his back and the words that were murmured to him, reassuring him, telling him that it was all over, were like a gentle caress that washed across some hidden part of him, letting him know that his father was close by. With a small sigh, he opened his eyes. Without even asking, his father was lifting his head so that he could drink from the glass of water.

            "It's all right now, Joseph. You've had a rough time of it but it's all right now. Go back to sleep. It's all right." Over and over again he heard the calm reassurance in his father's whisper, felt his father's hand brush across his face warmly. Listening and believing, he let himself fall back into a deep sleep.

            "Pa, Roy Coffee is downstairs. Says he wants to talk to you 'bout somethin'," Hoss shyly broke into his father's litany. "You go on and talk to him. I'll stay here with Shortshanks."

            "Adam?"

            "He went to bed a long time ago and he's still there. Doc Martin's across the hall. Hop Sing has some hot food for you too so you'd best go."

            "If Joe-"

            "Go on, Pa, I've been takin' care of this 'un for a long time too, ya know."

            Reluctantly, Ben gave up his post and looking out the window, saw that it had to be mid-morning at the earliest. He ran a hand over a stubbled chin as he went down the hall and the staircase. Roy was still standing by the door, his hat in his hands.

            "How's Joe?" Roy asked right off. "Hop Sing told me he'd had a bad set-back. He gonna be okay?"

            "Yes, Paul worked another miracle I think. Joe woke up a bit ago but not for long." Ben rubbed his hand over the back of his neck as he spoke, feeling for the first time the effects of a night spent hunched over a bedside.

            "That's good to hear, Ben, it surely is. But I didn't come all the way out here to ask about Joe. I've come on official business Ben."

            Ben quit massaging the back of his neck and came erect, cautious. "Oh?"

            "Ben, did you see Dan Tolliver last night? Did you speak to Dan Tolliver last night?" the sheriff asked, his head dropping a little to one side.

            For a moment, Ben thought back over the events before he had gotten home, before the Turner boy had spoken with him. "Yes I did. Dan wanted me to go have a drink with him but I was on my way to dinner with some other friends."

            "Where were you when you spoke with Dan?"

            "Beside the International House, in the alley to be exact. Why are you asking, Roy?"

            Roy puffed a sad breath into his mustache and studied the floor at his feet before he spoke again. "I was afraid you were gonna say that. I'm sorry Ben but I got to take you back into town with me. Dan Tolliver was found dead this morning. In the alleyway beside the International House. I spoke with Gary Bowman. He said you never showed up for dinner like had been planned."

            "This is ridiculous. I was late getting to Gary's. They had left for the evening. I went back to the International House for dinner! " Then the full realization hit Ben hard. "You think I killed Dan Tolliver, don't you?"

            Roy Coffee had no words for his oldest friend.

            He was floating on a cloud. There was nothing solid around him, only warmth and a feeling of weightless floating. He reached for something to anchor himself but found nothing there for his hand to grasp. From somewhere off in the distance he could hear Adam talking then Hoss responded but Joe was too disoriented to understand what was being said. He tried to call to them but couldn't make his voice be heard outside of his own thoughts. He tried to reach out for them, to get their attention, but he found his arms uselessly numb. It didn't bring panic to him, just the disjointed thought that he couldn't do something. Then there were hands touching his wrist and something cold on his chest. He ghosted a smile. It was Paul Martin, Joe knew it was. He raised his consciousness enough to assure himself that he was right and was about to drop back into the sweet oblivion he had come from when a bolt of hot fire, stinging and burning lanced through his side. Gasping, he tried to writhe from its track but strong hands kept him pinned.

            "Easy Joe," Adam's deep baritone soothed but Joe continued his escape try. "It's all right. It'll be over in a minute, I swear it will." True to Adam's words, the pain did back away and Joe opened his eyes. "Afternoon," his brother greeted and Joe concentrated on his brother's face for the few remaining moments of pain. The burning sensation was gone and he could feel himself being moved. Then a warm quilt dropped back over him, whispering security to him with its presence.

            "Welcome back little buddy," Adam crooned again and smiled for his brother's sake. He was a long ways from feeling like a smile though. He glanced down from his position at Joe's head and noted that Paul Martin was sorting things from his bag over on Joe's dresser top. Hoss was fussing with the covering over Joe and Hop Sing had just scooted from the room, carrying away the fouled gauze and bandages they had all just had a part in changing. "Want something to drink?" offered Adam and without waiting for a reply, took the glass of water laced with painkillers that Paul had prepared before the latest ordeal had begun. Adam lifted Joe's head just enough that he could sip some of the liquid. A few moments before and Adam had wondered where Joe had gotten the strength to arch away from the stinging alcohol Paul was using but now, it seemed to Adam that Joe had no strength at all. Again he lifted Joe's head and forced a little more down his throat, giving him gentle words of encouragement because Paul had said that Joe needed to drink all of it. There was no fight in Joe or Adam knew he would have had a full-scale rebellion on his hands, getting Joe to finally finish the bitter draught.

            "Let me there, Adam," insisted the doctor and Adam gave up his place at Joe's head. "Okay then, young man," Paul addressed Joe, making him concentrate with just the tone he used, "how many fingers do you see?"

            As the drug-induced lazy euphoria swept into Joe, he groggily replied "one" which was correct but Joe couldn't fathom why Doc Martin was asking him about fingers.

            "You remember your name?"

            A smile twitched on Joe's face and he mumbled an answer that was vaguely taunting. "Sure, don't you?"

            The physician shook his head. "Guess you're all right or you will be. I'm gonna have Hop Sing bring you up some broth. I want you to swallow every last drop of it, you hear me? I have to go into town for a while but Adam and Hoss here know what to do. I don't want to hear of you giving them any trouble. Okay?"

            The small smile, brought on by the medication more than anything else, drifted in and out on Joe's face until he seemed to think of something. "Pa?" he whispered, his throat thick and his tongue heavy.

            The other three men in the room looked quickly at one another. There had been a brief discussion since Joe was bound to ask for his father when he awoke. No one wanted to tell Joe that Ben had most reluctantly left that morning with Roy Coffee and when he would return was unknown. Paul Martin had been most adamant: tell him very little. "You tell him that Ben has been taken in for questioning for Dan Tolliver's murder and Joe will come right off that bed. You know he will. Besides, we won't know anything for certain until after I have done an autopsy on Tolliver. Could be the man died of natural causes for all we know."

            The two brothers had shook their heads, not wanting to lie to Joe and, at least as far as Adam was concerned, considering the possibility that their father had gone off half-cocked and done…no, he could believe that. But Adam had had to push hard to get away from the thought of his father killing Tolliver.

            "Pa ain't here right now, Joe." Adam easily moved back into the spot where he had been most of the day. "Don't you trust Hoss and I to take care of you?"

            Joe's eyelids were getting heavy and Adam's voice was drifting away. He couldn't find the strength again to do much more than smile faintly for Adam. The banter and quick comebacks would wait for another time. For now, he would go back to resting on that cloud and feeling nothing. Maybe next time when he woke up, his father would be there.

            "Okay," Doc Martin took a deep breath as he spoke the single word. "Like I said, I want those bandages changed every four hours at least! The infection is about drained out completely but I don't want to take any chances. When he comes around again, get that broth into him. Push fluids into him every opportunity you get. Don't back off on the painkiller, either. It's going to do more to help him stay still and quiet than anything else I know of and he needs that right now. I'll be back just as soon as I can. And Adam, get some sleep. I don't want either one of you as a patient too!"

            The afternoon drug by slowly. At the appointed time Hoss and Adam did as the doctor had instructed: replacing the gauze plug for a fresh one liberally soaked in alcohol then clean bandages wrapped around Joe's waist and firmly secured. When it had brought Joe out of his laudanum-induced coma, they had given him the warm and nourishing beef broth Hop Sing had prepared. He even managed to swallow about half the glass of milk that went with it before he simply dropped away from them like a pebble tossed into Tahoe.

            Wiping away the lingering drop of milk from Joe's lip, Adam said, "Well that went better than I though it would.'

            "Maybe for you," Hoss groused. He hated what they had done, the pain they had caused even though he and Adam had been as gentle as they knew how to be. Hoss hadn't been the one handling the stinging alcohol but just the thought of it had made him wince. Now as he gathered together the soiled bandages and prepared the fresh ones for the next go-around, he couldn't help but feel so overly incompetent.

            Adam's eyebrows twitched. "Well, at least he didn't ask for Pa more than twice."

            "And how long do you think it's gonna be before he doesn't swallow your explanation? What are we gonna do Adam? I feel so, I don't know the right word for it but I guess it would be 'torn'. I want to help Pa but I want to help Joe too and I can't do both at the same time."

            "You heard what Pa said when he left. He was going to get this all straightened out and be back before dark. Pa's a big boy and can take care of himself, Hoss."

            Hoss gestured with his head to where Joe lay sleeping. "In case you missed something, big brother, that one there is a big boy now too and he can't no more take care of his self than the man on the moon could."

            "Joe's different. And if he could take care of himself right now, would he ask for Pa every time he wakes up?" Adam pulled the quilt back up over his brother's chest.

            A big finger thumped Adam's shoulder rather soundly. "You put yourself in his place and I bet the first thing you would do is ask for Pa too. I know it 'cause I've seen it."

            Adam smiled ruefully. Hoss had him dead to rights. Whatever the connection they had as brothers was only exceeded by the one they had as Ben Cartwright's sons. When the world looked at them, it might see four men, independent and strong in their self-assuredness. But their father had lavished enough love and attention on them in private over the years that they had come to depend on him for that. And that is what made them what the world saw. Yes, when the chips were down, their father was there with understanding and love--Adam's thoughts stopped abruptly. A strong feeling of guilt washed over Adam for his behavior towards his father over the past few days.

            "Hoss, sit down a minute and listen to me, will you? I've got something I need to get out in the open."

            The bigger man put the basin he had in his hands down and pulled a chair around to sit, leaning his arms across the back of it. For Adam to make this request had gotten his immediate attention. It wasn't often that Adam said things like this, that he opened up and spoke to Hoss but then again Adam seldom did. Had Hoss known that he was the receiver of the majority of those times, he might have felt a little differently but he merely thought that it was a rare thing for Adam to do. "Shoot."

            "Something has been bugging me about Pa. He's been short tempered, in a black mood," Adam began.

            "You can say that again. Since Joe was shot, he's been so dad-blamed mad at ever'one and ever'thin'," commiserated Hoss when Adam had paused.

            "He's not angry, Hoss. He's been feeling…guilty, I think."

"Guilty? What are you talkin'? Why would Pa feel guilty?"

"Guilty because he just gave Tolliver the money. Guilty that he trusted the man that Joe wouldn't be hurt. Guilty because Joe was hurt and it took so long for him to get to help. Guilty because he wanted Dan Tolliver dead. Guilty because if he and Joe hadn't fired Dan, none of this would have happened." With each utterance of the word 'guilty', Adam had slapped one hand into the other palm, reinforcing the word.

"That's a powerful lot of guilties, Adam. You gonna tell me now that you think Pa really wanted ol' Dan dead?"

Adam swallowed hard before he answered his brother's question. "I did," he admitted and found he could no longer stay seated and still. He rose and began to restlessly pace the room. "When I rode off that afternoon, I went back into town, looking for Tolliver. I'd hoped to find him drinking, gambling with that blood-soaked money. I had it in my head that I would call him out then shoot him down like the dog I knew he was! But instead I find a frightened old man who had locked himself in Roy's jail. But even that didn't change what I wanted, Hoss. If it hadn't been for the bars on that cell, I would have gotten my hands on his neck and broken it with my bare hands. And Joe is my brother. I can't even begin to put myself in Pa's place, seeing what happened to my son."

Hoss nodded. He understood what Adam had spoken of since he had felt that urge rise in him too when his father had told him that Tolliver was responsible. But, unlike Adam, Hoss had not acted on that feeling, that all-consuming urge for revenge. Maybe it was because he had stayed and helped his father; maybe it was because he had heard Joe's explanation first hand but Hoss had let it pass. Surely it was the teachings of his father that had let him forgive Dan Tolliver's actions. It was those same teachings that had let Joe do so and if any one had a reason to feel angry about what had happened, surely it was Joe.

"Adam," Hoss put out a hand and grabbing hold of Adam's arm in passing, stopped his older brother's pacing. "You think Pa killed Dan Tolliver?"

He shook loose Hoss' hand and went to stand at the window overlooking the yard below. The late afternoon sun washed the dirt there into a soft golden color. Adam looked to the cloudless blue sky then closed his eyes for a moment before he spoke. "If Dan Tolliver had turned up dead right after Joe was shot, yes, Pa could have killed him. But now, weeks later? No, I can't believe Pa would have."

"But right now, Joe's in just as bad a shape or maybe worse. Maybe somethin' in Pa just finally pushed him over the edge and he went looking for Dan."

"I could believe that except for one thing, Hoss: Pa wouldn't have left Joe alone if he knew he was that sick. Look at how he acted when he got home! A team of wild horses couldn't have gotten Pa away from Joe!"

Hoss' face pulled to one side as he thought on what Adam was saying. It was true how Pa had acted and it was entirely just like Pa. And Pa's going with the sheriff when requested, however reluctantly, showed Hoss just how much respect his father did have for the law. But Adam hadn't been in the room and seen the look on their father's face. Hoss knew that look. He'd seen it plenty of times, mostly when dealing with a fast-talking wayward little brother who had gotten into trouble again. It was one of resignation.

            "But maybe we are jumping the gun here. Maybe Dan Tolliver died of a heart attack or somethin'. He was an old man," excused Hoss.

            "Dan Tolliver is about the same age as Pa, Hoss. And both of them are, well, were in good health. Both worked hard and I don't believe Dan drank any harder than Pa does! But I'm like you. I hope he died of natural causes."

            Paul Martin walked reluctantly into Roy Coffee's office that early evening. In his hand was the official death certificate and autopsy report for Dan Tolliver. The ink was still a little damp on them. He had hoped to deliver his report much earlier, get a nap and get back out and see how Joe Cartwright was faring but he hadn't been able to. Now, he would wait until morning before he returned to the Ponderosa. He only hoped that he could deliver his findings to Roy in private. He wasn't able to do that either since Ben Cartwright sat across the desk from Roy Coffee.

            "Paul, that the autopsy report?" Roy asked. No one present had to ask whose autopsy.

            "Yep," the doctor couldn't look Ben in the eye. "Hate to say it but cause of death is uncertain."

            Both other men quickly looked to the doctor so he continued. "I can't decide whether it was the blow to the head that killed him or the broken neck. Both happened about the same time and either one would have been fatal."

            "Can you tell what sort of object hit him on the head?" Roy asked, rising to his feet.

            "No I can't. Sorry." The little doctor looked down into Ben Cartwright's eyes, searching for something there, searching for remorse in the very least. The velvet brown eyes were narrowed, as though in caution, Paul thought.

            "You got something else on your mind, Doc?" Roy queried, noting the other man's strange reticence.

            Paul swallowed hard and tossed something round, heavy and brown onto the desk before them all. "I found this clutched in his hand. Looks like its been torn off. I think Dan struggled, reaching and grabbing. I checked his own clothing and it wasn't his. I'd say that it belonged to the last person who saw him alive." The doctor was careful to not say the word 'killer' but only because he couldn't imagine it of one of his oldest and best friends but the proof was there on the desktop before them.

            When it fell from Paul's hand, Ben immediately checked. The motion didn't go unnoticed by the sheriff and he saw what Ben saw: the button on the desk, with its brown threads still clinging to tan fabric, matched the others on Ben Cartwright's jacket. Right down to the spot where one was missing.

            "Ben," Roy sucked in a noisy breath then went on. "I'm sorry but this makes it official. I'm arresting you for the death of Dan Tolliver. Until we can get the judge to set a bail for you, I'm gonna have to lock you up."

            Those final words seemed to bring Ben alive. He stood quickly, his eyes flashing in the light of the kerosene lamps. "No," he sharply said, "You can't do that. I need to be home. Joseph needs me!"

            "I'm sorry Ben but I got to do my duty to the law. Now please, just hand over your gun," Roy urged and prayed that Ben wouldn't fight him but he could already see Ben's hand slowly sweeping back his jacket and reaching for the grip of his revolver. "Ben, don't do somethin' we'll all regret." Roy held out his left hand, just the mere motion begging for sanity and reason to prevail yet his own right hand was resting easily on his own sidearm, just in case.

            Paul Martin watched the scene and stepped forward to Ben's side and easily intercepted the man's hand. He wasn't sure if Ben had been going to pull the gun to shoot Roy Coffee or simply to hand it over. It wasn't his intervention that assured all that there would be no bullets flying that night but his words. "I'll see that Joe is all right, Ben."

            "And I'll have your lawyer over here first thing in the morning. But come on, Ben, if nothing else, you need a good night's sleep and I got to lock you up. Don't want to but I got to." Between he and the doctor, Roy managed to get Ben maneuvered into the cell and sitting on the narrow cot. Roy was more than a little shocked at how lifeless Ben had been but he put it down to all of the events of the last few days. He wouldn't let himself believe that his long-time friend was guilty of another's man's ruthless murder.

            Instead of doing as he wanted, Paul Martin hitched a fresh horse to his buggy and headed for the Ponderosa ranch house. Someone, and he guessed he was as good as anyone, would have to let the family know about Ben's official arrest. To keep himself awake during the long drive, he ran what he knew about Dan Tolliver's death through his mind again. Like he had told Roy, it was either the blow to the head or the broken neck that had killed the old wrangler. He hadn't been there when the body was found so he had no idea what the scene would have been like. It was possible that Dan had hit his head on something there in the alley as he fell following his neck being broken. Or his neck might have broken with the impact of hitting the same something that cracked his skull. He had been relieved to find that there were no bruises on Dan's neck, saying that he had been strangled or the like. What truly bothered him was that if Dan's neck had been broken by someone else, the most logical position for the attacker would have been behind the victim. The button he had pulled from Tolliver's grasp had come from the center of Ben's coat, indicating that they had been face to face. That also meant that Ben couldn't have struck him on the head since that blow had come from behind as well. But there again, who was to say that the button tearing loose hadn't happened prior to the deathblow, say during an argument? Was Dan's death the result of a heated argument? Was it an accident? If so, then why hadn't Ben said so? Too many whys and not enough answers kept Paul Martin awake all the way to the yard of the house. He knew one thing and one thing certain: Ben Cartwright loved his sons enough to kill a man who hurt them. And Dan Tolliver had hurt one of them.

            Even though the house was quiet, there was a light still lit on the table beside the stairs. Doctor Paul Martin hadn't bothered to knock on the door, knowing it would be open to him no matter what the day or time. He slipped into the house, greeted by the warmth of the fire still burning in the fireplace and the deep resonate voice of Adam Cartwright from the shadowy alcove of his father's desk.

            "Dan Tolliver was killed, wasn't he?" There were the sounds of a chair scraping the floor and then nothing until Adam appeared silently in front of the doctor. There was the faint smell of whiskey but it wasn't enough to concern Paul.

            "I thought I told you to get some sleep," Martin gruffly said.

            "Answer me," and the words, so cold yet so hot with recrimination, made the other man flinch.

            "He died from either a broken neck or a blow to the head. Or both. Close as I can tell, they happened simultaneously."

            "And? Where is Pa?"

            The physician looked straight at Adam's dark form. He could see little in the darkness but he didn't need to have light to know what the eldest Cartwright son looked like. And he wouldn't be cowered by that imagined vision.

            "Arrested for it. Dan Tolliver had some rather incriminating evidence."

            The shadowy figure in front of him exploded. "Son of a bitch!" Adam cursed and moved towards the fire, his motions fluid yet strained. He halted, outlined by the fire's glow. Sensing little danger directed at him personally, Paul went closer, ending up standing just an arm's length away.

            "I'm sorry, Adam," was all he could think to say. "How's Joe?"

            Pulling his shoulders taut, Adam seemed to gather himself together. "How do you think he is? Every time he wakes up, he asks for Pa. I keep lying to him, just telling him that Pa isn’t here. What am I going to do when he sees through the lies? You got anything in your little black doctor's bag for him then? When I have to tell him that Pa is accused of killing Dan Tolliver, what's it going to do to him?"

            "No, Adam I don't have anything for that. Hopefully, once Roy can get a judge to set bail, your father can come home. There will be a trial, Adam, and then, and only then, will your father be found guilty or innocent. Don't have him hung before then, son," Paul cautioned, hoping to make the other see some sense.

            "Do you think my father killed Dan Tolliver?" Adam asked, his voice now soft, his venom spent apparently.

            The doctor had to answer him truthfully. "I don't know, Adam, not for certain."

            "But going on what you know, your experience, do you believe Pa did it?" pushed Adam.

            "Yes, all the evidence I know of now points in that direction."

            Again Adam swore and this time shook his head and looked to the floor resignedly.

            "But it may have been an accident, for all we know."

            "Has Pa said that it was?" Adam asked, his voice so low that Paul had to strain to hear his words.

            "No, I didn't hear him say too much of anything. Just that he didn't want Roy to arrest him because he felt he needed to be here for your brother," and looks like you too, the good doctor finished by thinking. "Adam, this is doing neither your father nor Joe any good. Go to bed. Sleep. Tomorrow, go into town. Talk with your father. Talk with your lawyer. Hell, talk with half the town! But first you have to sleep. Come on," Paul grasped the hard black-clad shoulder beside him and using a nominal amount of pressure and force, aimed the oldest Cartwright son up the stairs and down the hallway. When Adam paused at Joe's close doorway, Paul merely pushed on, not letting go until they stood at Adam's bedroom door. "I meant what I said. Get some sleep." He opened the door and made sure a reluctant Adam went into the room. For a few long moments, he waited outside the closed door. Hearing the bed creak, he figured Adam had at least sat down on it and that was close enough. He headed back down the hallway. Pushing open the door to Joe's room, he wasn't surprised to see the hulking shape of Hoss trying to stay in the chair at his brother's bedside. Slipping around the sleeping giant, the doctor checked on his patient. He too was sleeping, with no sign of fever. Lifting the covers, he examined the bandages by the dim light. There was nothing on them to cause alarm or concern so he dropped the cover back down. With the bottle of laudanum held to the lowered lamplight, he could just make out the level. The two brothers had apparently done their job well.

            "Well, doctor," he chuckled softly to himself as he slipped back passed the gently snoring Hoss, "time you took some of your own advice." Paul Martin left the door open to Joe's room and going silently down the hall, found the guestroom prepared for him. Without undressing, he stretched out on the bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.