Ben looked up from the breakfast table as Joe stood up and said, “I’m going to get a move on Pa.”

        Ben was surprised, “It’s a little early to be keeping an appointment with Parker. He considers banker’s hours too early for him.” Ben and Joe both knew that the accountant rarely left the poker tables before 2 am, although as long as he got enough sleep, his work didn’t seem to suffer for it.

        “I thought I’d check and see how that railroad spur was coming along. They’d planned to be getting to our easement by today.” Joe tried to sound neutral as he spoke.

        Ben knew better. “I know you don’t like the idea of prison labor building that spur, but it can’t be any harder on the men than breaking rocks at the prison.”

        “Pa, it’s no better than slave labor. And it takes work away from honest people who need it. That’s why you argued against it.”

        “But I lost. And once that spur’s completed the mines will provide more jobs than laying the tracks, long-term jobs.” Ben reminded him.

        “But at least I can check and make sure they’re being treated right. And besides we’re contracted to provide the food for the prisoners once they cross onto our land. I need to check on what they want.”

        “Joseph you can’t be taking menus out to a bunch of state prisoners like they were being served at a restaurant.”

        Joe had to laugh a little at that, “I mean I’m going to see if they need us to bring utensils, plates, cups, whether there’s some kind of restrictions we don’t know about.”

        “They already told us nothing that can’t be eaten with fingers or a spoon.  No forks, no knives. Everything accounted for and returned.  Hop Sing and Candy can take out the cups and plates that are already in the chuck wagon in case they’re needed.”

        Ben looked up at his son and realized no matter what he said, Joe had a need to go out and check for himself. He just hoped he wouldn't find anything wrong that he couldn’t do anything about. “Well, take those two fool dogs with you then. They need a run.”

        They both looked over to where the Scottish deerhounds were lounging against the stone hearth in the front room. They’d been a somewhat unwelcome present from a visiting friend of Ben who thought anyone would be honored to have a pair of the royal dogs of Scotland. They did only two things, sleep and chase. And sometimes their twitching in their sleep indicated they were combining the two. Ben would have found them a new home as soon as his friend returned to Scotland but by that time Jamie was in love with them. And he was the only one they showed any affection for.

        “All right  Pa, but if they take off after a rabbit or a coyote, they’ll have to find their own way home.”

        “Come on dogs” Joe called out as he grabbed his hat from the hook by the door. “Lets go show some rabbits your stuff.” As always, he refused to call them by name. The male had already been an adolescent named Angus when he was presented to them. Jamie had named the female pup Agnes without thinking what a tongue twister it would be to call them together. Then he’d insisted he couldn’t change the name because she liked it. The two dogs rose with a slow dignity and deigned to accompany Joe out the door.

        Waiting on the porch, Jamie's third dog greeted the prospect of a run with the appropriate doggy enthusiasm. As always Bramble ignored the two bigger dogs and they him. Joe leaned down to pet the little black and white border collie. “Thanks Bramble, it’s nice to feel appreciated.”

        He looked forward to taking Cochise out today. Joe had reluctantly stopped using him in hard ranch work and on long trips once he’d hit twenty. But he was in good shape for his age and the kind of ride he was going to take today would do the pinto good.

        When he went into the tack room for his saddle, he saw that someone had been working on his mother’s sidesaddle.  Had to be Pa.  Even though no one used it, he took it out periodically and kept the leather oiled. It wasn’t the saddle she’d been using when she was killed. That one was long destroyed. She’d brought this one from home as one of the beloved pieces of the South she had brought West.  It was a part of her Ben could never part with and could never allow to fall apart from neglect.

        Joe went over and stroked the oiled leather, wondering what his father thought about as he worked on it.  Joe’s clearest memory of the saddle was the time when he was seventeen, a girlfriend who’d ridden astride all her life put it on Cochise and rode in circles around the big corral, working on changing gaits in this unfamiliar position.   Joe had been enjoying the sight immensely, the girl and horse trying to figure out what was to them a strange contraption for preserving feminine modesty.  That is he had been until Hop Sing came out and started scolding in his rapid almost unintelligible English.  At first they’d thought he was mad that they were humiliating poor Cochise who was a working horse used to only proper equipment. When they understood that he was worried that his Pa would come home and see them making light of his mother’s saddle, they’d put it away.

        He finished saddling Cochise and headed out with the three dogs running along side.   An hour into the ride, they crossed the little stream below the ridge overlooking the spur. Joe wasn’t sure he was even going to ride down to the work site.  Maybe he’d just check things out with binoculars from the ridge.  Just then the two deerhounds scared up a rabbit and took off.  Joe had Jamie’s whistle with him but he knew better than to bother with it. Once the sight hounds got into chase mode their ears stopped up. The whistle was to call them back after they’d lost the prey or caught it.

        Joe started to speed up in the direction the deerhounds had taken when he heard a piteous barking behind him. There was Bramble on the other side of the stream, running back and forth waiting for his ride. He’d been off on a little excursion of his own when Joe had crossed the stream. For some reason Joe had never been able to figure, the little dog hated to get his feet wet. He called out to him with affectionate exasperation, “Come on Bramble, you can jump it.” But the dog continued his demands for a ride and Joe knew why. There was mud on both sides of the stream bed and wet was wet.

        Joe turned Cochise around and walked him back over the stream. The moment he reached the other side, Bramble leaped up on the saddle in front of him. As they recrossed the stream, Bramble stood on Joe’s knee with his paws on his shoulder and barked defiantly at the dreaded water. He jumped down as soon as they cleared the mud on the other side. “Well,” Joe thought, “at least the damn dog never tracks mud in the house.”

        When Joe reached the top of the ridge, he could see that the work was only a few hundred yards from the Ponderosa boundary. He used the binoculars and counted twenty men at work and three guards on horseback. As he watched, he saw one of the guards sight his rifle. He wasn’t aiming in Joe’s direction or at the working men. Joe turned to see what he was aiming at and his heart sank. The two deerhounds had chased the rabbit over the ridge and were paralleling the working men midway down the other side.

        Joe headed down yelling the whole way. But he couldn’t get there fast enough, even if he’d been willing to risk Cochise stumbling on the steep rocky trail. But, as he rode toward them, he saw one of the prisoners hit the rifle with the handle of the shovel he’d been working with and the shot went low and wide. Before Joe could get close enough to stop it, the guard clubbed the prisoner in the head with the butt of the rifle.

        Joe did get there in time to stop the guard from leaping off his horse and clubbing the man again as he lay unconscious on the ground.  When Joe got between the guard and the prisoner, the guard turned the business end of the rifle on Joe. “This ain’t none of your business mister. And you could get shot for trying to help a prisoner escape.”

        Joe looked down at the unconscious man lying face up on the ground with his scalp laid open and bleeding profusely. Man? He looked hardly more than a boy, surely no more than nineteen. Joe tried to keep things calm. “I don’t think he’s much of an escape risk right now,” he said mildly.

        “Out of the way mister,” the guard insisted.

        “Listen, this man just saved you from more trouble than you could know. You should be thanking him not bashing his head in.”

        “What are you talking about?”  The man didn’t believe him but it at least got him curious.

        “That dog you were about to shoot belongs to Ben Cartwright. You know that name?”

        The guard nodded.

        “If you heard the name, then you know he has a reputation as a hard man. He loves those dogs more than his own sons. And I should know. I’m one of his sons.” Joe spoke these bald-faced lies with confidence, figuring men like these would think that anyone with money both hard and capable of loving a prized dog more than a child.

        “If you’d hit one of those dogs, he would have had your job. And you wouldn’t have gotten another one anywhere in this state. Hell, he would have called in some favors and made sure you did some hard time. Those dogs are valuable. A present from an ambassador.   My father might decide to get you fired just for trying to shoot them.”

        The man’s attitude changed a little as he sensed he was dealing with someone with some power. “Now wait mister, uh Mister Cartwright, I thought those were wolves out there. They don’t look like any dogs I’ve ever seen.”

        Joe had to admit that although the dogs really didn’t look like wolves, their gray, grizzled coats might give them that look as they sped by. But he wasn’t going to give this man an out. “You’re not going to win any points with my father with that excuse.”

        Joe didn’t want to waste time arguing. He was concerned about the wounded boy.   “We need to get this man to a doctor,” Joe said urgently. He didn’t really believe they were going to let that happen, but if he started out with that demand maybe they wouldn’t stop him from taking less drastic measures.

        The guard made the expected response. “This man’s a violent prisoner who just tried to escape. We can’t leave the rest of the prisoners and we’re sure not letting you take charge of this one.”

        “Escape?  He didn’t try to grab the rifle or to hit you. He just deflected your shot.”  He added, “Lucky for you.”

        Joe tried to assess what he could do for the boy. “Then let me take him into the shade, wash out that gash and bandage him up. See how he feels when he regains consciousness.”

        The guard hesitated. Joe figured the best he planned to do was throw some water in the boy’s face and poke his ribs with the rifle barrel until he woke up.

        “Look, I owe this man as much as you do. I had charge of my father’s dogs. If one had gotten killed or even wounded he would have skinned me. Believe me, he’s not just a hard man with outsiders. He’d have been likely to take a whip to me.”

        The guard reluctantly agreed. He unlocked the ankle cuff that attached the boy to two of the other men. Without help, Joe dragged the boy into the shade of some nearby trees.  It was easy enough. He must have a couple of inches on Joe in height, but he was at least 20 pounds lighter. His arms and chest were pretty well developed as though from heavy work, but his ribs protruded badly. Joe left to grab a saddlebag off Cochise. When he got back, the guard was chaining the boy’s hands around one of the smaller trees.

        Joe tried to stop him. “That’s can’t be necessary.”

        The guard ignored him while he finished locking the cuffs. Then he said, “We’ve got to get the rest of the men back to work. There’s only three of us. We can’t spare someone to guard this man while you coddle him.” Then in an accusing tone he pointed at the saddlebag. “What’s in there?”

        Joe responded blandly. “Not the keys to those cuffs.” He displayed the opening to the guard. “Canteen, bandages.” The guard walked off with barely a glance.

        Joe did his best to wash out the gash and bandage it up tight. It really should have been stitched.  Either way it would leave a scar, although high enough up in the hairline maybe it wouldn’t show much. Then he tried to wash all the blood off the boy’s face and dark hair. There’d been a lot of it, but head wounds usually bled a lot. He wished he could give the boy a bath.  He looked and smelled like he hadn’t had a bath in months. His ragged pants looked like they’d never seen soap.

        After awhile Joe got the feeling that the boy was conscious but trying not to show it. Joe stopped what he was doing and spoke in a low voice.  “Listen, I’d like to give you some swallows of this water, but I can’t give water to an unconscious man.  If you’re not in any hurry to get back to work, you can play possum as long as you want. They can’t see you here. And if you talk low, they can’t hear you. So maybe you could just let me know if you’re awake.”

        Joe thought he saw the boy’s eyes flicker, as though in indecision. That decided it for Joe. He directed his dog.  “Wake him up Bramble, but quiet.” Immediately, Bramble was on the boy’s chest vigorously licking his face.  No one who was even close to consciousness could ignore Bramble when he was determined. Joe knew. He’d tried.  And chained up as he was, this boy couldn’t even use his arms and hands to deflect the enthusiastic little dog.

        “Ok, Ok, that’s enough.” The boy spoke quietly which told Joe he hadn’t been startled into wakefulness.

        Joe pulled Bramble off immediately. “My kid brother taught him that.  No one sleeps in if the two of them are of a different mind.  It’s even worse when he’s directed to wake you up loud. A dead man couldn’t sleep through that.”

        The boy didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he asked, “You really got some water there?” Joe knew he wasn’t really asking if there was any water, but asking to have some in an indirect way.

        “Sure” Joe gently lifted the boy’s head up and gave him a few swallows of water. Then let him have as much as he could take. He sensed the boy was humiliated by being chained that way and having to be given water like an invalid, but his thirst had won out.

        The boy’s next question was a curious one. “Ain’t you a little old to be getting a whipping from your father? You must want your inheritance real bad.”

        Joe smiled. “That was just something I said to them. My father never even used a whip on a horse. But if you heard that, I guess you’ve been awake for awhile.”

        The boy looked fearful for a moment.  Joe assured him he wasn’t going to tell the guards anything. “Truth is I do owe you a big favor. Not for saving me from a whipping, but for sparing me the look on my little brother’s face if I’d had to tell him one of his dogs got shot.”

        Joe rummaged through his saddle bag and came up a little bag of lemon dropst. “I’m afraid I didn’t bring any food with me, but these things are pretty good.”

        He put one in the boy’s mouth. The boy lay back with his eyes closed. Joe bet he hadn’t had candy in a long time. He wished he’d brought some cookies or something more interesting. But then again, he didn’t think the boy would like being fed chained up as he was.  He had a proud look about him.

        “My name’s Joe Cartwright.”  He couldn’t shake hands. He almost reached over and patted the boy on the shoulder but thought better of it. His introduction just hung there for a moment before the boy answered. “Griff” A little hesitation,” Griff King.”

        Sensing the introductions, Bramble pushed his way up to Griff and put his paw on Griff’s chest. Then, as though discerning Griff couldn’t take his paw, the dog put his head down where his paw had been.

        “Bramble, leave him alone.”

        Griff quickly intervened. “It’s ok, he’s fine. I haven’t had a dog to pet for almost two years.”

        “Looks more like he’s petting you.” Then Joe recognized the meaning behind what Griff had said. Two years. “How old are you Griff?”

        “Almost nineteen. But I guess what you really want to know is what could a kid not much past seventeen have done to land in Nevada State Prison.”

        “It’s none of my business.”

        “Doesn’t matter. Attempted murder.” Griff seemed to almost enjoy the reaction on Joe’s face in some kind of perverse way. “Tried to kill a man with a pick handle.”

        “You have a reason?”

        “Not one the court recognized.  My stepfather liked beating on people and I was usually the most convenient target.  When I tried to stop him from beating my dog to death with that pick handle, he turned it on me. When I got it away from him, I hammered him with it. Maybe I would have killed him if his friends hadn’t pulled me off.”

        “Sounds like no more than assault at worst, more likely self defense. And you were just a kid.”

        “And he was my legal father. When your own father thinks you belong in prison, I guess the court listens.”

        “So you’ve served almost two years. You must be up for parole soon.”

        Griff turned his head away. “On a sentence of five to ten, maybe they’ll consider me in three or four years. But they’d have no particular reason to give me parole.  Especially once Gardner files his report saying I attacked a guard.”

        Joe thought maybe he could prevent that, but he didn’t want to make promises he wasn’t absolutely sure he could keep.  He’d bet this boy had been lied to a lot.  “Well at least we’ll write a letter to the parole board saying you have a job when you get out.  They set some store by that kind of thing.”

        Griff didn’t answer. Joe didn’t know if Griff figured he was just making talk or he didn’t think he’d make it three more years anyway.

        “Griff, there must be something I can do for you now.”

        Griff’s eyes flickered up to where his hands were chained around the tree.

        Joe smiled grimly. “I guess that sounds like a pretty empty promise when I couldn’t even get them to take off those cuffs. But you almost got your head bashed in saving me a lot of heartache.”

        “Didn’t do it for you,” Griff answered curtly.

        “Well, even better. A favor done for a rich man’s son can have all kinds of motivations.  You couldn’t know who those dogs belonged to.”

        “Don’t get sentimental.  I thought they were wolves too.  They looked so free, I just couldn’t stand to let Gardner shoot them.”

        Joe didn’t respond, but he actually appreciated that motive more.  Then Joe tried again. “The Ponderosa is providing the food for the crew the next two weeks or so. There must be something we can bring special for you.”

        Griff visibly brightened. “If you just make sure we get something better than salt pork and beans or beans and rice, I’d be a real hero around here.”

        “That’s already been taken care of. Hop Sing is making pots of beef stew. Good stuff.”

        “With real meat in it?” Griff said wistfully.

        “Well, of course. How else can you make beef stew?”

        “You’d be surprised,” Griff said bitterly.

        “You must have something you’ve been wanting special. Something you remember from before prison.  Pot roast, pork chops . . . .?”

        “Fried chicken. My mother made the best fried chicken.  Haven’t had it since I was a little kid.” The expression in Griff’s blue-gray eyes softened. “My father, my real father, used to tease her, calling it Yankee fried chicken.  He was from Atlanta.  She was from Boston. She made it with mountains of mashed potatoes and gravy.”

        “We can do that.  And you think of what you want after that.  Candy’s going to be bringing out the wagon at midday, you tell him anything else you come up with.”

        “Candy?”  The boy’s voice suggested more than curiosity but Joe couldn’t read what.

        “Not a woman.  Just a man’s nickname.”

        “I knew a man named Candy once in Billings.”

        “Could be him.  He was in a lot of places before he settled in with us.  Friend of yours?”

       “No,  just someone I knew.”

        Just then Bramble nudged Joe’s hand as he always did when someone was coming.  Gardner was approaching.  Joe made a show of bathing Griff’s face with his wet bandana as Gardner came under the trees.

        “He awake yet?” Gardner would have nudged Griff in the ribs with his boot if Joe hadn’t grabbed the boot mid-swing.

        “He’s been in and out. Give him another half hour.”

        “He’s had enough time,” Gardner said as he bent down and uncuffed one of Griff’s hands just long enough to recuff them in front.  Roughly he pulled Griff to his feet and gave him a little shove toward the work crew.  Griff made it three steps then collapsed.   Joe caught him as he went down and sat him down with his back against a tree.

        Joe faced Gardner. “This boy’s probably got a concussion.  It’s not going to do you any good to stick him out in that crew in the sun just to have him drop again.  It won’t hurt to give him another half hour.

        A half hour later, Griff made it back to the work crew but he was so dizzy he could barely stand.  Gardner fastened his leg chains but made no further attempt to punish him.  Maybe because someone from the Ponderosa would be returning and would account for him. He knew he’d get the rest of what was coming once they were off Ponderosa property.

        He watched as Cartwright disappeared over the ridge on his pinto with the little dog at its heels. Why hadn’t he told him that he’d only volunteered for what was considered a tough job because he’d heard it was going through the Ponderosa?  Why hadn’t he told him Candy had been a friend, at least so he’d thought?  Was he afraid to be disappointed when Candy didn’t remember him?  Or maybe he didn’t really want anyone who’d known him free to see him chained up like an animal.

        He’d known Candy when he was just fifteen.  When Candy had moved on he’d written him once.  The only letter Griff had ever gotten from anyone.  Candy had told him if he ever wanted to come to Nevada, Candy could get him a job on the Ponderosa working horses.  But when Griff had written back six months later asking about a job, Candy hadn’t responded.  Griff figured he’d probably drifted on.  Or maybe he just didn’t care.

        Joe told him about the kid who’d saved Jamie’s dogs.  The interest Candy showed made Joe wonder why Griff wouldn’t call Candy a friend.  It was clear Candy thought of himself that way.

        “Can’t believe that good-hearted kid could have ended up in prison.  He must have been pushed real hard.  I never met his stepfather.  Griff and I were working on the same ranch.  His stepfather lived in town.  Never heard anything good about him.  Griff wouldn’t talk about his family.  I wrote him once telling him I could get him a job here but he never wrote back.  Maybe I should have tried again.”

        Joe was curious enough about Griff to go with Candy when he took the food out to the prisoners.  Besides he wanted to make sure they hadn’t hurt him after he left.

        Three hours later they drove the wagon up close to the work site and asked one of the guards, not Gardner, for a prisoner to help put things together. “That boy Gardner bashed this morning can’t be much help on the work crew right now.” Joe suggested. The guard didn’t much care, especially as Joe handed him a plate of apple pie. Joe took another piece over to Gardner to distract him so Candy could get a chance to talk to Griff.

        Weller came over carrying a plate full of pie.  Griff didn’t figure he was bringing it to him. Weller put down the pie long enough to separate Griff from the rest. He picked it up, then pointed to the wagon with his rifle. “Over there boy. They want someone to do the dirty work.”  When Griff didn’t move, Weller prodded him with his rifle. “Did you hear me boy? If you don’t want the cushy job, I’m sure someone else will volunteer.”

        As Griff made his way to the wagon, his pace impeded by the chains on his ankles, Candy was unhitching the horses.  He gestured for Griff to join him.  With the team of horses between them and the rest of the crew, Candy looked him over. Griff stared back.

        As he looked into Candy’s eyes, Griff was surprised to see what looked like genuine concern there.  With his eyes still locked on Griff’s, Candy put his hand on Griff’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you come to the Ponderosa boy?  You didn’t have to stay with that man, that man who put you here.”

        Griff didn’t answer right away, but he didn’t lower his eyes.  Finally he said, “I wrote you.  Took me a while to save the money for postage.  Just asking after a job.  Didn’t want charity.  You never answered.  Figured you’d moved on.  Or changed your mind about the job.”

        “I never got any letter.”

        And there it was Griff thought.  He was here because of something as small as a letter not delivered.

       “Candy, we need to get things moving.  You can talk while we serve.  I’ll get a fire started. Griff can you take care of the horses?"

        Griff’s eyes moved from Candy to Joe.  Joe couldn’t read them.  But Griff nodded and walked the horses over to the shade.  Without being asked, he took them water.  Then without a word he started doing whatever needed to be done. He carried firewood, set up a table and got out tin cups, bowls, plates and spoons.

        Joe asked Candy as he gestured toward Griff, “A good one huh?”

        Candy nodded, “He’s grown about half a foot since I knew him.  He must be six foot two now.  He had a real gentle touch with a horse.   Joe, how do we get him out?”

        Joe knew this was coming, but he didn’t have an answer.

        Grodan leaned back in his chair as two of the guards brought Griff into his office, shackled hand and foot. He gestured the guards out, leaving Griff standing in front of his desk.  He made no motion for him to sit.

        Griff stood uncomfortably, wondering why he’d been brought here before breakfast. He’d been hauled out of the hellbox and brought directly here. That had never happened before. No one was ever brought to the warden’s office just to be punished for something.

        Grodan let him stand there as he shuffled some papers around his desk. After a few long minutes, he looked up. “Well, boy.  Looks like you struck the fancy of some rich man’s son. They bought you an early parole.”

        Griff tried not to react, not to show some pathetic semblance of hope that this sadist would then turn against him.  He’d been back here six months and heard nothing from Candy.  Of course, no one ever got mail.  He’d resigned himself to the fact that Candy couldn’t do more than make sure he had a job offer that would convince the parole board to release him at his first parole hearing -- two and a half years from now.

        “I thought you’d be happy to get out of here. Of course, you can always turn it down.” Griff maintained his impassive stance as Grodan looked for a reaction.

        Cartwright’s son could be here any time.  If you accept this parole, you’ll be his, body and soul, for the next five years. You’ll do everything he says – everything. One word from him and you’re back here to finish out your term, maybe with some tacked on if you’ve acted up.  Cartwright owns you.  He tells you to lick his boots you’ll do it.  He wants to take a whip to you, he can.  He want’s you chained up at night, you will be.  You won’t leave his ranch without an escort.  You won’t leave the county no matter what.”

        Griff looked up at that, a hint of foreboding crossing his face. But he wasn’t going to give Grodan the satisfaction of seeing any reaction.

        “Well. you don’t think an important family like that needs to get ordinary ranch hands out of the state prison,”  Grodan said as though Griff had asked.  When young Cartwright came sniffin’ around here, asking about you, he made it clear they were looking for someone they could force to do the work no free man would do.  But still, I suppose the food will be a little better and you won’t get forced to take on some of the men like you did here.

        Griff felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t breath.   He looked up, “You knew. You knew what they were doing to a 17 year old boy and you made no move to stop it.”  Griff lunged forward but was caught up in the chains which kept his feet close together. Grodan grabbed the cane he always had close at hand and cracked Griff across the face. His cheek split open and blood poured down his shirt.

        “Course I knew. I always know what’s going on. This is my prison.  But boys come in here. They have to make their own way.  You should thank me.  You learned to fight.  You’re almost a man.”   Griff made no response, and no effort to stop the blood running down his face.

        There was a knock at the door. “Warden. Mr. Cartwright’s here.” Grodan came around the desk. He gestured Griff to a bench in the corner.  “This is it boy.  Decision time.”
 

        When Joe came in, he immediately saw Griff.   And the blood.  “What the hell happened to him?”  Joe started to approach Griff. Grodan stopped him.  There may be a little problem with his parole.  Some men get like that.  They’re afraid to get out.  Afraid they’ll fail.  They lash out.  Griff got in a fight.  Had to be restrained.  I think I’d better keep him until I report this to the parole board and see what they want to do.”

        Joe glanced at Griff.  Griff slumped down on the bench with his face against the stone wall.  He knew how this was going to end. A crumb thrown his way and snatched from his grasp. There wouldn’t be any point in trying to tell the truth.

        Joe wasn’t going to let this slimy bastard slow things down.  “Are there some papers for me to sign?”

        Joe could tell Grodan wanted something. Did he want a bribe? Or did he resent Joe snatching Griff out of his hellhole.  Maybe his sadistic nature demand some assurance that Griff was going to be as miserable on parole as he was in prison.

        “Look, I’ve gone to a lot of trouble.  I was guaranteed that Griff here was mine for the next five years.  Someone who couldn’t complain about the hours or the wages.  Someone to shovel out the barns, clean the outhouses and all that stuff no one else wants to do.  I’m going to cause a lot of trouble with the Board if I’ve come all this way for nothing.”

        Grodan backed off a little.  “Well, I could overlook the fight. I might have to give the guards a little something to keep their mouths shut.”

        Joe pretended not to understand Grodan’s meaning.  He went over to Griff.  “Get up boy.”

        As Griff struggled to his feet, Joe said to Grodan.  You can have the guards take the shackles off his ankles. He won’t be able to ride in those.  I’ll keep the wrist shackles though.”

        Grodan saw an opportunity.  “Sorry, those are prison property.  I thought you convinced the Board Griff was ready to be out in free society.”

        Joe had decided to keep on with his own tyrant routine to outdo Grodan.  “Look I’m no fool. I’ve got a two days ride back to the ranch. Once we’re back there, the law all over the county is in my father’s pocket. He wouldn’t last a day if he ran off. But here . . . . I’m not going to go to sleep tonight with this con on his first night out of prison just waiting to run off or worse. How much for the shackles?"

      “Fifty bucks.”

        “I’ll give you ten on deposit and send them back when I get home.” Joe took a couple of fives out of his wallet and tossed them on the desk. Without waiting for an answer, he held out his hand for the key to both shackles. He pocketed the smaller one and gave Griff the larger. He didn’t try to help as Griff awkwardly fumbled with the key, his shackled wrists making it hard to unlock the stiff mechanism on the ankle cuff.

        Grodan spoke up again. “He can’t leave here in those clothes.” Joe looked at the tattered filthy prison clothes Griff had on.  “I doubt if he has any sentimental attachment to them. I brought some clothes from home. I’ll get them.” When Joe came back, he handed Griff a pair of pants and shirt from the bundle he’d been carrying. They were almost as shabby as the prison garb. Joe was glad he’d brought some that shabby for the effect.  He'd brought better ones for after Griff got a chance to bath but no point in Grodan knowing that.   “Put these on.”

        Grodan told the guard to take the wrist shackles off so Griff could change his clothes.  “See he doesn’t take anything that doesn’t belong to him.”  Joe turned his back, facing Grodan as Griff changed into a pair of threadbare pants that were too short and a worn shirt with sleeves that didn’t reach to the shackles the guard put back on his wrists. His feet were bare. Josh, pointed to Griff’s feet. “How much for the shoes?” Griff interrupted him with the first words he’d spoken since Joe arrived. “I’d rather go without.”

        Joe walked out of the warden’s office without a word. Griff didn’t follow.  Joe turned, a question in his eyes. Griff said quietly, “I want the stuff I came in with.” Joe looked at Grodan.  Grodan shrugged. He went to a shelf and pulled down a small box.  He shoved it over his desk toward Griff. Griff looked through it, tossing some clothes and shoes on the floor.  It broke Joe’s heart to see how much smaller the clothes were than the ones he was wearing now. He must have grown five inches while he was here. Griff apparently came to what he was looking for, a picture without a frame and a little carved wooden figure.  He stuck them in his pocket and turned around.  “I’m ready.”

        Without a word, Joe led the way out to where Candy was waiting with three horses, Griff walking gingerly over the rocky ground with his naked feet. Bramble jumped from his position on Joe’s saddle and ran over to greet them.  Griff knelt for a moment and petted him.  Candy came over and put a hand on his shoulder.

        Joe didn’t speak until they got out of hearing of the guards. “Griff, I just bought that roan gelding on the way here.  He’s barely green broke.  He might spook at those shackles and it might be tough for you to control him wearing them. You’d better ride mine until we get out of sight of the guard tower.”  He started to tell Griff he would take the shackles off then, but Griff had walked to the roan’s head, talking to him softly, rubbing his neck, letting him sniff the metal around his wrists.

        Griff mounted.  The stirrup leathers were a little short for him, but it was clear he didn’t want to wait to adjust them.  Joe and Candy mounted and they made their way out as the gate was opened, Bramble leading the way. Joe watched Griff handle the horse. He didn’t seem to be having any trouble.  Joe and Candy nudged their horses into a lope, wanting to get some distance between them and the prison.   Joe didn’t figure Griff would mind.

        By the time they got to the ford at the wide, fast-moving stream, the guard tower was out of sight around a bend and a half mile back.  Griff was lightheaded and dizzy.  He hadn’t eaten for almost thirty hours, the sun was beating down on his hatless head.  His hands were numb from the tight cuffs.

        Joe took the key out of his pocket. “Hold out your arms.”  As Griff twisted in the saddle and leaned over with his arms outstretched, he blacked out.  He would have fallen hard but Joe caught him and managed to lower him to the ground where Candy caught him.  Candy dragged him a little way to the scant shade from a pile of boulders. He leaned him in a sitting position against one of them. Taking off his bandana, Candy wet it in the stream and started to wipe Griff’s face. Griff came to with a start.

        “You all right?” Candy asked anxiously.

        “Just a little light-headed from the sun I guess. I’ll be OK.”

        Joe unlocked the cuffs and grimaced as he removed them from Griff’s wrists seeing the deep welts left behind.  “Damn it Griff, why didn’t you tell me they were so tight?” The guard’s parting gesture of contempt, he supposed. Griff didn’t answer. He just rubbed his wrists with his hands.

        Candy thought of something else. “When was the last time you ate?”

        Griff closed his eyes, leaning back continuing to rub his wrists. “I don’t really remember. It’s not like the food there is something I’d want to remember.”

        “Well, did you eat this morning?” Griff shook his head. “Last night, yesterday at all?”

        “I was in the hellbox all day. They dragged me out and took me directly to the warden’s office this morning.”

        “Then how did you manage to get into a fight?”  Joe asked. “That blood was fresh.”

        “Grodan hit me across the face with his cane.” Griff didn’t offer more and Joe didn’t ask.

        Joe got the loaf of bread he’d bought that morning out of his saddlebag and handed it to Griff along with a canteen.  Candy gave him some strips of venison jerky and a couple of apples.  “See if this will tide you over. Town’s only an hour away.”

        Griff tried not to wolf down the food and almost succeeded. When he’d finished, he leaned back against the boulder with his eyes closed. Joe pressed a small bag of peppermint into Griff’s hand.  It was the only other food they had with him that didn’t have to be cooked. “Dessert.” Joe said as Griff opened his eyes. Not the slightest hint of a smile crossed Griff’s face.

        Griff struggled to his feet, over Candy’s protest.  “I’m OK. Let’s get away from here.” He glanced back toward the direction of the prison.  Candy pulled a pair of boots out of a sack on his saddle.

        Joe turned to the task at hand.  “We had a lot of trouble getting that roan across the stream.  Don’t think he’s ever been in moving water before, even shallow like this.  You take my horse.  We’re not going to pull you out of the stream.”  Griff didn’t argue this time abou switching horses.  He got up on the chestnut Joe was riding.  Joe mounted the roan. “I’ll go right behind you, Candy behind me.  He might decide its ok this time.”

        Griff started across the ford. The roan was skitterish, but Joe thought he might cooperate by following Griff on Joe's horse.  But just as they were well into the water, a furry bundle launched itself from the boulder farthest out in the water onto the saddle in front of Joe.  That was enough for the roan. He reared and spun, tossing Joe on his back in the water, then took off for the side they’d just left.

        As Griff turned around, he saw Joe lying in the water with Bramble perched on his shoulders. “You hurt?”

        Joe grinned ruefully. “I forgot about Bramble.  He hates getting his feet wet.”

        Candy was almost in hysterics.  And although he tried to hold it back,  Griff laughed. The first sign of any kind of amusement Joe had seen. “Do I need to pull you out of the stream? Or you want me to get the horse?”

        Joe responded, “First, take this damn dog.”

        Bramble licked his face profusely as though just given a compliment.  Joe handed Bramble up to Griff. Bramble stood on his hind legs, his front paws on Griff’s shoulder, barking at the water. He jumped down as soon as they cleared the muddy spots.  Joe struggled to his feet, feeling a bruise on his right buttock that was going to make the rest of the ride a bit uncomfortable.  By the time he got up and oriented, Griff was back on the roan, holding out the reins to Joe for his own horse.  He looked like the food had kicked in.

        “I’m going to take Bramble across so he doesn’t get in the way or spook the roan with his barking.  He tends to bark at the water, like he can keep it away.  You ride double on Candy’s horse until you get across.”

        Griff protested. “I think I can get him across. You got him over here.”

        “I think I just wore him out. Took us over half an hour.'  Joe chuckled slightly,  Course Candy wasn’t helping.  Just sat on the far side of the water laughing.  I almost left him tied up there.  We would have had to ride double this far.  You get him across on the first try, we’ll start you off as a horse trainer instead of just a beginning hand.”

        Griff looked up. “What does that mean?”

        “Well, $5 more a month to start.”

        “You’re going to pay me?”

        Joe made an exasperated sound. “Damn it. You didn’t think there was any truth to anything I spouted off to that bastard Grodan did you? I could just tell he was going to try to cause trouble if he thought you were going off to anything better than slave labor.  Look, we’ll talk about this after we cross.  You can ask any questions you want.”

        They actually got across fairly rapidly.  Despite Bramble’s barking at the water from his perch on Joe’s knee, the roan seemed to get confidence from the way Griff handled him.

        After the crossing, they rode on quietly.  Griff didn’t seem to want to talk and neither of the other men pushed it.

        It was almost noon when they got to town. Joe had Griff and Candy wait with the horses while he went into a saloon and came out with three cheese sandwiches.  He handed one each up to Griff and Candy.

        “This should tide you over for an hour or so. On my way out I made sure the bath house would have hot water for three  of baths ready by the time we got here.”

        Griff felt like he was already getting ordered around. “I’m OK.”

        Candy responded immediately to that.  “The hell you are.  We’re not riding with you one mile further until you wash that prison stink off you.”

        The bath house was just a big shack with five large tubs in it. Nothing resembling privacy, but no one else was using it this time of day. The attendant filled three tubs and left some buckets of very hot water next to them. There were brushes and some harsh looking soap. Griff didn’t exactly dive in.

        “You get started. I’m going to put the horses up in the livery with some grain.  Candy can pick you up some decent clothes.  By the time we finish dinner, they’ll have had some rest and we can push hard until nightfall.”  As Joe and Candy turned to go out the door. Griff stopped him. “You’re going to leave me alone?”

        “You doing a Bramble number on us? The water’s not that deep Griff.”

        Griff didn’t laugh.  Maybe one a day was his limit.

        “I mean, aren’t you worried about leaving me alone?”

        “Why, you planning to run off?”

        “Well, I could.”

        “You going to run barefoot back to prison?”

        Griff didn’t answer. Joe faced him. “Look Griff, you’re not my slave or my prisoner.”

        Griff interrupted him, “Oh, aren’t I?” He sounded both bitter and angry.

        Candy started to intercede, but Joe stopped him with a gesture.  Joe was getting a little fed up.  “Have I given you any reason to think I plan to mistreat you?”  He stopped a moment, looking on the still prominent red welts on Griff’s wrists and the tattered clothes he had on.  “I mean besides letting you hear me tell the warden that you were going to be spending the next five years cleaning outhouses sixteen hours a day and making you ride half a mile in cuffs so tight they cut off your circulation and having you put on clothes not much better than the ones you wore inside.”

        If Joe hoped for a smile, he was disappointed. “Griff, I have to trust you. I don’t plan to chain or lock you up for the next five years.  I have to believe that you’ll at least give it a chance. The reality is, you don’t have anywhere else to go.  Candy’s the only person you have a connection with in these parts.  The Board will put a reward on your head if you take off. So we might as well start trusting you now.”

        “You’ll feel better in some decent clothes.  We weren’t sure enough of the size to bring any with us.  And besides, there was no point in getting that prison stink on them.  I’m going to bring back a barber. We could all  use a haircut and a shave.  Especially you.”

        Griff started to protest.  Joe cut him off , “Now don’t tell me you have some objections to a barber.”

        Griff got his back up. “Maybe I want the beard.” What happens if I refuse?”

        Joe shrugged. “Griff, don’t use this as some kind of declaration of independence. I’ve gone out on a limb for you.  So has Candy.  But the best we could have done was make sure you got out when your first parole date came up two and a half years from now.  We had to convince my father to use his influence to get this early date. My father’s a fair man, but he expects people to put their best foot forward. The least you can do is look respectable when you meet him.  After you’ve started work and he sees you’re worth your wages, you can grow your hair down to your ass if you want.  So just for now . . . Please.”

        As Candy started to walk out with Joe, he turned, “Griff, I hate to break it to you, but that’s the sorriest excuse for a real beard I’ve seen since Joe’s brother Jamie tried to grow one.”

        Griff almost smiled.  And he was ashamed of his outburst, but wouldn’t admit it.  He didn’t respond.  He just turned toward the tub and made a show of testing the temperature. Two minutes later, Griff was in a hot soapy tub. He scrubbed everything as hard as he could, then just lay back after replenishing the hot water from a bucket beside the tub. By the time Joe and Candy came back, Griff was almost asleep.

        They weren’t alone. Joe had brought the barber from next door. Candy laid out some new clothes for him.  “You’re going to have to try on some boots.  I bet you don’t even know what size you wear any more.”

        Griff made no resistance.  By the time they were all finished, Griff was hungry again.  But they had to stop for boots.   Griff tried to refuse but Joe pointed out that it would just slow them down to have Griff walking around barefoot all the way home.  Griff insisted the money be taken out of his wages, “If you’re really paying me.”  Joe just nodded., refusing to even show his irritation.

        So for the first time since he was fourteen, Griff had the feel of stiff new clothes on his back, clothes not cast off from someone who’d gotten all the good use out of them. And boots that would have to be broken in instead of needing newspaper worn inside against the holes.

        The café was the next stop. Joe saw that Griff couldn’t even begin to decide what to order. The first thing he tried to make clear was that he wasn’t taking Joe’s charity.   Candy put up a hand and interrupted him, “My treat.  I guess if Joe can take my charity, you can."

        Candy  just told the woman who took their order, “can you just bring us a big platter with some of everything you’ve got back there.  Steak, chicken, pork chops, big plate of fried potatoes maybe.  Some kind of greens. Biscuits and honey.  And bring us more than we could eat.  Except for the greens. We’re probably going to ride through supper and could use some extra for the road.  Not to mention, we have a hungry little dog over at the livery with our horses who's given me the best entertainment I've had all month.  He deserves a reward.”  Candy winked at Joe as he added the last part.

        While they were waiting for their food, Joe decided to set things out for Griff as plain as he could and see if he could open him up enough to get him to ask some questions.  Joe could tell Griff had something on his mind. Most likely he wanted to know what was expected of him.

      “Griff, what did they tell you about the conditions of your parole?”

       Griff was caught by surprise. “I didn’t even know about this parole thing until five minutes before you showed up.  Nobody even asked me if I wanted it.”

        “You mean you might have turned it down?” Joe was surprised no one had ever talked to Griff.

        “I think I could have been asked before they just gave me to some stranger to run my life for the next five years.”

        “I don’t want to run your life Griff.  It’s a full-time job running my own. And I’m in charge of most things on the Ponderosa now.  You’ll just have to see to running your own life.”

        “Can I leave if I want?  Can I wear a gun?  Can I lie around in bed all day if I choose?  I know damn well if I do any of those things I’ll be back in prison so fast . . . .”

        Joe interrupted, “Griff let me make one thing clear.  The only way you’re going to end up back in prison is if you do something against the law or in violation of your parole conditions that gets the court or the parole board to send you back.  It’s true you can’t leave the county unless you’re with me or Pa or Candy.  And you can’t wear a gun.  If you want to lie around in bed all day, you won’t be paid, but you won’t be sent back to prison either.”

        So what happens if I decide to take off?”

        “One of your conditions is that you report to the sheriff in Virginia City once a month.  If you fail to report, he’ll wire the parole board and they’ll call in the bond we put up and put it out as a reward on your head.  $5000 would be a powerful incentive for someone to bring you back in. And I guess for me to bring you back before the sheriff sends that wire?”

        Griff was shocked. “Why would you spend $5000 for me?”

        “Didn’t.  We put up a bond.  We won’t lose anything unless you rabbit.  We’re just betting you won’t.  Candy assured us you won’t and I trust him more than most anyone I know.  If we lose the money, it’ll be Candy paying it back for the rest of his life.  Not because we’d expect him to, but because his sense of honor would make him. And he’d rather have to do that than see you spend one more day in prison.”

        Griff looked at Candy.  Candy just held up his hand.  “I figured it was a safe bet.”

        Griff looked back at Joe, “Why are you all doing this?  Because I stopped some thug from taking a pot shot at a dog?”

        “Hardly.  But that said something about the kind of man you are.  Mostly its because  if Candy feels you’re worth it, I don’t need any other reason.”

        They hit the road with a packet of food and didn’t stop all day except to water and rest the horses.  By the time they stopped for the night they had to wake the man at the livery to put up their horses. The man at the hotel was still up but he only had one room left.

        Joe figured they were so tired it wouldn’t matter. He’d shared beds smaller than the one in that room with his brother Hoss and lived to tell about it.   They were going to go odds and evens to decide who would get the floor but Griff reminded them he didn't have any coins anyway.  He threw his  saddle and bedroll on the floor and stretched out. “I’m used to it” was all he said before turning his back and giving the appearance at least of falling asleep.

        Joe woke up well before dawn only to find Griff gone.  Saddle and bedroll too.  He woke Candy.   “Damn,” Joe said, “I thought he’d at least give us a try.”

        Candy didn’t seem worried.  “Don’t jump to conclusions Joe.  A man fresh out of prison just might not want to sleep in a small room with two other men.  Griff isn’t going to put me on the line to pay back that $5000.

        Joe hurriedly got dressed and went down to the livery.   Candy followed him down.  Joe lit a lantern and went to the stalls their horses had been in.  He was relieved to see they were all still there.  Then he worried that Griff might have stolen one elsewhere.  But even as that thought crossed his mind, he heard Griff’s voice from the stall where Bramble had been left sleeping.

         “Don’t worry, nothin’s missing.”

        Joe shined the lantern into the stall and saw Griff bedded down in a pile of clean straw, Bramble curled up next to him.

        “Good. I thought we could get an early start. I guess you’re ahead of me.”  Joe decided not to let on what he’d really thought.  “We should be able to make it to the ranch before nightfall.”

        Griff was too keyed up to be tired even though it was almost dark by the time they reached Joe’s home. This was going to be his new prison for the next five years and he had a big curiosity about it.  Candy pointed out the light in the front room.

         “Joe, Your Pa’s still up. Maybe we should introduce him to Griff here first thing. Then I can take him over to the bunk house to get settled.”

        So Candy and Joe took him into the main house.  The grandest damn house Griff had ever been in. The silver-haired man who stood up from behind the desk looked well over sixty but had a commanding presence that everyone seemed to respect.  "Griff this is Ben Cartwright."

        The silver-haired man extended his hand.  Griff hesitated a minute, then extended his own. So this was the warden.

THE END (for now)
For another Griff story see "Some Girls Do"